“My mom needs to go to the ER,” Hannah says through Messenger when I don’t answer her call; I’m on an evening Zoom meeting that happens twice monthly.
I fly into motion, leaving the house in a rush, cruising speedily without speeding, aware that I need to quiet my emotions to drive safely. Since my presence desires to serve Hannah’s mom as I can, I don’t grab a water bottle as usual.
After knocking on the door and gaining entry, her daughter tells me what happened.
I ask Hannah for a bowl in case her Mom needs to throw up, inquire that she truly wants to go to the ER and help Sarah put on her coat to head out.
Honestly, I haven’t been to an ER in decades, though my recollection isn’t that this is a place you want to go if you don’t really need to.
I find my way – with a mini-detour where ambulances go – and park.
Sarah throws up into the grass next to the car; I find a napkin and tissues in the glove compartment.
We mask up to enter.
I witness and support Sarah through checking in, settling into a room and for all that arises through this puzzle of care for her needs.
Close to 1 a.m., she’s discharged.
I drive her home, where she curls up on the couch, and say goodbye to her daughter, who’s waited up, thanking me.
Two days later, Sarah leaves a sweet note and gift on our front door handle.
Today, I reflect on this gift my presence gave Sarah, grateful that I could be a woman of peace and calm to shepherd my friend onward that evening.
May life support you in myriad ways, and may you support others as you’re able.
We’re here to be light to another’s darkness, as I understand it.
Shine on!
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