Sadness, a lack of purpose, acceptance.  God gave so much in my first bedside vigil, a man whose life contained an abundance of meaning, experience, and personality.  A pleasing handsome engaging man gifted to my first mission.  Last night, I encountered emptiness, a lack of personality, an empty room, a man of foreign race stripped of identity, no belongings, no sign of family, nothing, simply a patient, a human being suffering.  Unresponsive yet eyes open, we prayed together, doing some one-way talking.  His eyes, always perceptively filled with fear, marked me deeply.  Morphine took the fear away, yet detachment assumed its place.  The medical personnel dressed in sanitary gowns.  Warnings were supplied regarding contagious conditions.  Absolutely no touching.  A tracheotomy symbolized brutality, physical suffering.  The poor man, pitiful in condition, was distant.  A nonsensical escapist movie, superheroes fighting, alienation, and the Hulk, sound turned down, occupied the man’s visual focus.  During moments of prayer and speaking, he did turn his gaze to me.  I think something effective occurred.  I tried my best.  I struggled not to fall asleep, failing for a short period.  It was awkward, while filled with love.  Hope existed, yet did not overwhelm.  I do not want to go back as there were no sweet consolations, which only makes me conclude I must go back.  He is there deeply within my consciousness, a sense of trusting in God carrying concern and absorption into the saving of souls.  God is the master creator.  Driving home, late into the night, I found myself speaking to my father, pleading with him to pray for the man.  If glorious moments are lacking, if there are no wondrous stories to tell, if barrenness is my reward, can I carry forward with invigorated faith, hope, and charity.  I know I can.  I must for it is the path of the saints.  I notified the Hospice that I am willing to return to the gentleman’s bedside.  If God wills matters into being, I will return.  The Hospice just called.  I am not kidding, right after typing that the Hospice called.  My services are requested.  I see his face, and those eyes filled with fear in my internal vision.  My friend I will return and sit with you again.  I will find something to read to you, since there is nothing in your room, nothing aside from medical supplies and facility decorations.  You are a man alone my friend.  I will be there to offer fellowship, to allow you to know I come to you voluntarily.  You are someone unique, alive, special in birth, and loved.

Captivating image from the foreign film: Horse Money