The Gift of Kindness

Our brilliant, witty, active, big-hearted friend seems to be quickly fading from this life - challenged by Parkinson’s disease and cancer, and internal injuries sustained when his bicycle collided with a ditch at the bottom of a steep hill.

A few days ago I took his bony hand in mine and squatted in front of his wheelchair to meet him at eye level. He mumbled something unintelligible.

I apologized. “I’m sorry…my hearing...” 

He knew all about my hearing issues, having been a long-time supporter. For years he catered to my front-row needs when hosting social gatherings for groups of friends that generously included all-expense-paid trips to the theater.  A good listener, he heard beyond vocalized comments, all the way to my heart. His profound prayers rose on my behalf when I grew weary with auditory pressure and pain.

But on this day, he was severely diminished.  Did he recognize me? Were his words intelligible, or just random sounds?  I'd heard he'd become nonsensical at times.

He persisted, his thin lips trembling, the words flying into my face like dry feathers.  I still didn’t understand, and said so, apologetically.  Strike two.

Thankfully, he didn’t give up.  His shaky grip tightened, and his eyes blazed with gentle sincerity gone fierce with gallant effort.

“You look great.”

It was a slurred whisper, this frail but precious gift of affirmation.  As an emotional rock filled my throat, I leaned forward and touched my cheek to his, emulating his characteristic greeting of a holy kiss (II Corinthians 13:12 and I Thessalonians 5:26).

I spoke around the knotty blockage directly into his right ear, expressing a wealth of gratitude in just a few words: “Thank you Mike…for being so kind.”