The holiday seasons are once again upon us. This year I know the true meaning that they hold. This year I know how to be truly happy during this season . This year I know that happiness doesn't come wrapped in beautiful paper with bows. It doesn't come in turkey around the table. It doesn't come sitting in front of the fireplace. These things do bring happiness, don't get me wrong. It is just that these things mean more to me this year because of a friend I ran into a couple years ago. She took me to the other side of the holidays. She told me her story on how she became truly happy. So sit back and enjoy as I share her story with you. As we take you to the other side of the holidays.
It was the day before Thanksgiving. As she made her way into town, down Crawford street, and onto First, she was noticing the red, blue, white Christmas lights hanging in the small trees that lined the streets. She was heading to a little simple duplex where her Hospice patient was waiting for her, with his "Teddy Bear". That is his name for his devoted girl friend.
She noticed that there were two other cars parked in front of the house, as she parked and ran into the house. There just inside, her little man laid in his bed, the Hospice nurse was at the table with his girlfriend, and there was another young lady standing beside the bed. They were asking and answering questions. They were finding another place for her little man to go. She just stood there listening.
After the lady left, the Hospice nurse came to the bed and talked directly to her special little patient. She called him by name and said, "Do you understand what is happening here?" He said in nearly a whisper. "No not really." She once again leaned down and said. "Do you remember that you always told us that there was a cuckoo clock inside your body that keeps you going? " Our little man shook his bold head yes and she continued. "Well that cuckoo clock is starting to run really slow. We want to take you somewhere where you will be cared for and loved. Do you understand?" and she mentioned his name once again.
He just shook his head yes and said very slowly: "Yes my cuckoo clock is slowing down." then he gave them his little smile and looked over at the table where his "teddy bear" sat quietly. Her heart was breaking for these two dear friends. These two who had made her world smile for about six months.
Today she stood just outside that little white house beside "teddy bear" and together they both watched those ambulance doors close, and drive away. The two friends turned and walked hand in hand back to the car, got in and followed Norman to his new home. She knew that this dear man was leaving home for good.
My friend sits at her desk in the bright surgery family room. Two black phones set before her, connecting her to the surgery rooms and the recovery rooms. She looks out over the room, gets up and starts to walk from one family to the other. Some are reading the paper, some looking at their phones. Some are idly playing with the TV remote, not really thinking about anything in particular. One family had brought their late lunch back and sat at the little round table close to her desk. They took hold of each others hands, bowed their heads and gave thanks. She bowed her too, and listened as the words of thanks fell into her ears.
She stopped beside a family, sat down in the empty chair beside them or on the coffee table and placed her hand on theirs. "I'm your afternoon volunteer. I will be keeping you informed about your loved one. If you need a hug, or a question answered, just come to me." She then gave their hand a squeeze, smiled, rose and went to another anxious family.
She filled the coffee pots, answered the phones, chatted with a older man who appeared anxious, comforted a family who sat near the back of the room. She walked to a young wife, placed her hand softly on her arm, smiled and said, "You can come with me now. Your husband is out of surgery and the doctor wants to visit with you."
She took her cell phone out of her bag, walked to a gentleman who appeared to be very uncomfortable in this setting because he was a farmer. She sits down beside him and asks "My husband and I farm, do you?" He nods and answers "Well yes....how did you know?" She laughs and says to him. "I can pick out a farmer anywhere. Do you want to see some pictures of our calves?" With this she takes up her phone and together, for just a little while, they visit the farm.
Just behind those double doors and down the hall, are doctors, nurses, anesthesiologist, are busy at work, saving a life, making a person healthy again, and my friend was part of it all. She could take a cup of coffee to an anxious mother, she could hug a young wife or comfort a old lady as she waited alone there in a chair. Yes there was peace and happiness "on the other side of the holidays.
She was just done wiping clean a table in the family room of the ICU. She picked up her spray can, turned to walk out when to her surprise a lady with gray hair came rushing into the room, sat down on the little couch and put her face in her hands and started to sob. She sobbed hard, hardly getting her breath.
My friend quietly walked to the couch, sat down beside this mother, and pulled her gray haired head gently down so it was resting on her shoulder. They sat there for awhile. The mother sobbing and my friend just waiting, quietly. After a little while the mother said between sobs. "My daughter is dying. I don't know what to do." My friend just sat there holding her. She handed her a kleenex and said "Do you have someone with you?" "My husband is on his way. He went home for the night but I just couldn't leave her." My friend said in a quiet calm voice. "I'll stay with you until your husband gets here if you want." That mother raised her head and looked at my friend and said. "I really appreciate your kindness but I would rather be alone." My friend smiled back at her and said. "I do understand. Let me take you to the mediation room where we can shut the door and you can be alone." So they walked out together and into the small quiet room. My friend gave that poor mother a box of Kleenex, a hug and walked out the door, quietly closing it behind her.
The next morning my friend was on duty once again. The main waiting room was packed with family members, friends, and nurses. She sat at her desk observing the outstanding care, love, compassion shown by friends, and nurses that were on duty, to this dear family. That mother saw her there sitting at the desk. She came over to her, reached out her arms and drew her into a hug. My friend was right in the middle of all that compassion. She was a part of this grieving families experience.
Yes...as they stood there together, all sharing the same feelings, all crying the same tears, my friend learned the beauty of walking to the "other side of the holidays." She knew that just inside those double closed doors, nurses, doctors and family members were working to save loved ones. She knew that monitors were being watched, oxygen tanks were working, IV's were dripping, and compassion was very much alive.
And there she stood, surrounded by a family that only a couple days ago were strangers to her world. But today, there in that ICU family room, they were her family. She felt their sorrow. She felt their tears on her cheek. She had become their friend.
One day just before the holidays, my friend was eating her lunch in the car before heading to help with surgery. She heard a load unusual noise and looked up. There before her rose a white and blue helicopter as it made its way up into the blue skies and headed south. Someone was being transferred from her hospital to a bigger one. Her heart was inside that big blue bird as it disappeared into the distance. Who was in there? Who had to leave their hospital? She wondered about their family. She wanted to hold them close and tell them she cared. She wanted to tell the men and women who were responsible to get the patient to their destination, a big thank you.
But all she could do was sit there in her car, eating her lunch. But she was once again thankful for the little journey that took her caring heart back to the "other side of the holidays."
So while I sat there listening to my friend, she told me of the empty chairs that would be at a table in some home. She reminded me of the men and women who were willing to work while others shared the day with family. She reminded me of the homeless, the hungry, the needy.
So soon afterwards, I volunteered. I was in the same place as my friend. This year the holidays mean so much more to me. This year I know the real meaning of family and friends. This year when I hear the words Happy Thanksgiving or Merry Christmas, I know the real meaning of the holidays. I know that its not just pretty wrapped gifts with a bow. I know its not just turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy and dressing. I know its not just gathering of family and friends.
To me the real meaning of the holidays is the condition of my heart. Am I touched by the needs of another? Can I forget myself and remember the needs of compassion, care, and love. Can I truly smile from the heart to make someone's day a little brighter? Can I take the time to sit quietly and listen to a friend pour her heart out to me?
Yes, thanks to my friend, I learned what really brings true happiness and peace to the heart, when she took me to "the other side of the holidays" for just a little while.
It was the day before Thanksgiving. As she made her way into town, down Crawford street, and onto First, she was noticing the red, blue, white Christmas lights hanging in the small trees that lined the streets. She was heading to a little simple duplex where her Hospice patient was waiting for her, with his "Teddy Bear". That is his name for his devoted girl friend.
She noticed that there were two other cars parked in front of the house, as she parked and ran into the house. There just inside, her little man laid in his bed, the Hospice nurse was at the table with his girlfriend, and there was another young lady standing beside the bed. They were asking and answering questions. They were finding another place for her little man to go. She just stood there listening.
After the lady left, the Hospice nurse came to the bed and talked directly to her special little patient. She called him by name and said, "Do you understand what is happening here?" He said in nearly a whisper. "No not really." She once again leaned down and said. "Do you remember that you always told us that there was a cuckoo clock inside your body that keeps you going? " Our little man shook his bold head yes and she continued. "Well that cuckoo clock is starting to run really slow. We want to take you somewhere where you will be cared for and loved. Do you understand?" and she mentioned his name once again.
He just shook his head yes and said very slowly: "Yes my cuckoo clock is slowing down." then he gave them his little smile and looked over at the table where his "teddy bear" sat quietly. Her heart was breaking for these two dear friends. These two who had made her world smile for about six months.
Today she stood just outside that little white house beside "teddy bear" and together they both watched those ambulance doors close, and drive away. The two friends turned and walked hand in hand back to the car, got in and followed Norman to his new home. She knew that this dear man was leaving home for good.
My friend sits at her desk in the bright surgery family room. Two black phones set before her, connecting her to the surgery rooms and the recovery rooms. She looks out over the room, gets up and starts to walk from one family to the other. Some are reading the paper, some looking at their phones. Some are idly playing with the TV remote, not really thinking about anything in particular. One family had brought their late lunch back and sat at the little round table close to her desk. They took hold of each others hands, bowed their heads and gave thanks. She bowed her too, and listened as the words of thanks fell into her ears.
She stopped beside a family, sat down in the empty chair beside them or on the coffee table and placed her hand on theirs. "I'm your afternoon volunteer. I will be keeping you informed about your loved one. If you need a hug, or a question answered, just come to me." She then gave their hand a squeeze, smiled, rose and went to another anxious family.
She filled the coffee pots, answered the phones, chatted with a older man who appeared anxious, comforted a family who sat near the back of the room. She walked to a young wife, placed her hand softly on her arm, smiled and said, "You can come with me now. Your husband is out of surgery and the doctor wants to visit with you."
She took her cell phone out of her bag, walked to a gentleman who appeared to be very uncomfortable in this setting because he was a farmer. She sits down beside him and asks "My husband and I farm, do you?" He nods and answers "Well yes....how did you know?" She laughs and says to him. "I can pick out a farmer anywhere. Do you want to see some pictures of our calves?" With this she takes up her phone and together, for just a little while, they visit the farm.
Just behind those double doors and down the hall, are doctors, nurses, anesthesiologist, are busy at work, saving a life, making a person healthy again, and my friend was part of it all. She could take a cup of coffee to an anxious mother, she could hug a young wife or comfort a old lady as she waited alone there in a chair. Yes there was peace and happiness "on the other side of the holidays.
She was just done wiping clean a table in the family room of the ICU. She picked up her spray can, turned to walk out when to her surprise a lady with gray hair came rushing into the room, sat down on the little couch and put her face in her hands and started to sob. She sobbed hard, hardly getting her breath.
My friend quietly walked to the couch, sat down beside this mother, and pulled her gray haired head gently down so it was resting on her shoulder. They sat there for awhile. The mother sobbing and my friend just waiting, quietly. After a little while the mother said between sobs. "My daughter is dying. I don't know what to do." My friend just sat there holding her. She handed her a kleenex and said "Do you have someone with you?" "My husband is on his way. He went home for the night but I just couldn't leave her." My friend said in a quiet calm voice. "I'll stay with you until your husband gets here if you want." That mother raised her head and looked at my friend and said. "I really appreciate your kindness but I would rather be alone." My friend smiled back at her and said. "I do understand. Let me take you to the mediation room where we can shut the door and you can be alone." So they walked out together and into the small quiet room. My friend gave that poor mother a box of Kleenex, a hug and walked out the door, quietly closing it behind her.
The next morning my friend was on duty once again. The main waiting room was packed with family members, friends, and nurses. She sat at her desk observing the outstanding care, love, compassion shown by friends, and nurses that were on duty, to this dear family. That mother saw her there sitting at the desk. She came over to her, reached out her arms and drew her into a hug. My friend was right in the middle of all that compassion. She was a part of this grieving families experience.
Yes...as they stood there together, all sharing the same feelings, all crying the same tears, my friend learned the beauty of walking to the "other side of the holidays." She knew that just inside those double closed doors, nurses, doctors and family members were working to save loved ones. She knew that monitors were being watched, oxygen tanks were working, IV's were dripping, and compassion was very much alive.
And there she stood, surrounded by a family that only a couple days ago were strangers to her world. But today, there in that ICU family room, they were her family. She felt their sorrow. She felt their tears on her cheek. She had become their friend.
One day just before the holidays, my friend was eating her lunch in the car before heading to help with surgery. She heard a load unusual noise and looked up. There before her rose a white and blue helicopter as it made its way up into the blue skies and headed south. Someone was being transferred from her hospital to a bigger one. Her heart was inside that big blue bird as it disappeared into the distance. Who was in there? Who had to leave their hospital? She wondered about their family. She wanted to hold them close and tell them she cared. She wanted to tell the men and women who were responsible to get the patient to their destination, a big thank you.
But all she could do was sit there in her car, eating her lunch. But she was once again thankful for the little journey that took her caring heart back to the "other side of the holidays."
So while I sat there listening to my friend, she told me of the empty chairs that would be at a table in some home. She reminded me of the men and women who were willing to work while others shared the day with family. She reminded me of the homeless, the hungry, the needy.
So soon afterwards, I volunteered. I was in the same place as my friend. This year the holidays mean so much more to me. This year I know the real meaning of family and friends. This year when I hear the words Happy Thanksgiving or Merry Christmas, I know the real meaning of the holidays. I know that its not just pretty wrapped gifts with a bow. I know its not just turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy and dressing. I know its not just gathering of family and friends.
To me the real meaning of the holidays is the condition of my heart. Am I touched by the needs of another? Can I forget myself and remember the needs of compassion, care, and love. Can I truly smile from the heart to make someone's day a little brighter? Can I take the time to sit quietly and listen to a friend pour her heart out to me?
Yes, thanks to my friend, I learned what really brings true happiness and peace to the heart, when she took me to "the other side of the holidays" for just a little while.
Lovely! I admire you, but I'm not sure that I could do this. I'm afraid that it would break my heart.
ReplyDeleteRon... it won't break it... it will grow it!
ReplyDelete