Kevin's Watch

aliantha wrote:Stephen was a great man.

Stephen C wrote:May 16, 1995, 11:13 pm
Because she was sleeping on the sidewalk and wouldn’t wake up enough to stand and walk on her own, the cop arrested her. And when I stepped in and told him I would help her move someplace else, he arrested me. So, I sat in jail over night with her, she slept with her head on my shoulder. She was ill, very ill, and I spent my time with her praying to the Father. She woke up in the early morning and looked at me, her face grimy with homelessness and dried tears. She made the sign with her hands, asking me who I was, and I smiled at her and spelled out my name. She spelled out hers, “Carrie.” She asked “why do you help me?” and I spelled out “because.” That seemed to satisfy her and she went back to sleep.

Later, after being released, I took her to the hospital. Of course the people there all know me. When I told them her name and that she had AIDS they immediately began to process her for admittance. Once in a room on the ward, all cleaned up and in a hospital gown, she looked…better. She smiled and signed “thank you.”

That was 3 years ago, and now I sit next to her bed as the life leaves her. I watch her chest rise and fall. I watch fresh tears leak unhindered from her eyes. I watch her hands twitch as she silently prays. She opens her eyes and smiles at me, reaches for my hand. I take it and nod at her, mouth the words, “I love you.” She nods, a signal that she loves me too. I mouth the question, “are you ready to go home?” she nods again and closes her eyes. Her chest ceases to rise and fall, the machine that measures her heart beat lets out a long steady beep.

I become used to such things. I am the usher, the way over, the guide to the light, but it is not an easy way and my heart breaks. I seek the solace of home more each time I witness these passings. These are days preordained to me, the ones the Father lead me too. This is the great work, this endless guidance, and I am blessed. For, when the light comes for them, I glimpse it and I am eased of burden until the next one comes to me seeking the way home. I have no wisdom. I have no healing in me. I only have the map of the way embedded within my soul…I am a compass for all those lost. I am a wellspring of love, of which they never drink.

Sweet Jesus Lord, how many pieces can my heart be in and still beat?

Carrie is now in Your arms. I did all I could.

Stephen C wrote:May 16, 1995, 11:13 pm
Because she was sleeping on the sidewalk and wouldn’t wake up enough to stand and walk on her own, the cop arrested her. And when I stepped in and told him I would help her move someplace else, he arrested me. So, I sat in jail over night with her, she slept with her head on my shoulder. She was ill, very ill, and I spent my time with her praying to the Father. She woke up in the early morning and looked at me, her face grimy with homelessness and dried tears. She made the sign with her hands, asking me who I was, and I smiled at her and spelled out my name. She spelled out hers, “Carrie.” She asked “why do you help me?” and I spelled out “because.” That seemed to satisfy her and she went back to sleep.

Later, after being released, I took her to the hospital. Of course the people there all know me. When I told them her name and that she had AIDS they immediately began to process her for admittance. Once in a room on the ward, all cleaned up and in a hospital gown, she looked…better. She smiled and signed “thank you.”

That was 3 years ago, and now I sit next to her bed as the life leaves her. I watch her chest rise and fall. I watch fresh tears leak unhindered from her eyes. I watch her hands twitch as she silently prays. She opens her eyes and smiles at me, reaches for my hand. I take it and nod at her, mouth the words, “I love you.” She nods, a signal that she loves me too. I mouth the question, “are you ready to go home?” she nods again and closes her eyes. Her chest ceases to rise and fall, the machine that measures her heart beat lets out a long steady beep.

I become used to such things. I am the usher, the way over, the guide to the light, but it is not an easy way and my heart breaks. I seek the solace of home more each time I witness these passings. These are days preordained to me, the ones the Father lead me too. This is the great work, this endless guidance, and I am blessed. For, when the light comes for them, I glimpse it and I am eased of burden until the next one comes to me seeking the way home. I have no wisdom. I have no healing in me. I only have the map of the way embedded within my soul…I am a compass for all those lost. I am a wellspring of love, of which they never drink.

Sweet Jesus Lord, how many pieces can my heart be in and still beat?

Carrie is now in Your arms. I did all I could.

Doc Hexnihilo wrote:Honestly, I would like to see all this stuff published.

I'd buy it.