Beautiful story. ......

I was reminded to go to Old folk homes or children homes soon... how can we live a more fulfiling & meaningful lives? I always ask myself. .. doesn't want to live till 40 years old & realise that i havent touch a life, meet a need or make a difference in someone's life.
Live not to regret in the end of it all..... :)
"By focusing on others' needs & met them...
love with not our limited human love, but His."

Hand In Hand

Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets. (Matt. 22:37-40)

I signed in at the Hospital Volunteer Office, printed out a current room chart from the computer, and headed for the South Wing to begin my rounds as a "Patient Representative." My job was to visit as many of the patients as I could, and to report any complaints indicating that the quality of care was in any way below the high standards set by the hospital's board of directors.

Like most jobs, sometimes this job could be very interesting and a real blessing, and other times it could be dull and tedious, depending not only on the moods and degree of illness of the patients, but also on my own mood and temperament at the time. On this particular day, I was preoccupied with the fact that my hands were hurting me, due to an ailment known as "trigger finger," which caused my fingers to lock temporarily in a bent position and then suddenly release. This condition had gradually worsened, becoming increasingly painful to the point of requiring surgery, which was scheduled for the following week. Although the operation was a relatively minor one, the pain nevertheless kept it in the forefront of my mind, and my resulting self-centeredness and concern for myself, rather than for the patients, was reflected in their lack of response to me. I just wanted to get through my calls as fast as possible and go home.

There were four names posted outside the door to room #2013, the first of which was John Shannon. The list on my clipboard indicated that he was 67 years old and lived in the neighboring town to mine. He had a hospital bathrobe on over his pajamas, and was seated in a chair with a lunch tray in front of him that had barely been touched, although most of the patients had long since finished their meal. "Hi, my name is Buzz," I announced with a joviality I did not feel. "I see you are eating your lunch, so I will stay only for a moment, but I wanted to find out how you are doing, and to see if there is anything I can do for you." He looked up with a warm smile and said, "Oh, that's all right, Buzz. I'm doing fine, but sit down for a minute, won't you? You see, my wife died last year, and since my daughter works and my son lives off the Cape, I don't have many visitors to talk to." I winced inwardly at the thought that this call was going to take a while, but I sat down on the edge of the bed agreeing "Well, okay; just for a moment."

It was only then that I noticed that he was having difficulty getting the food up to his mouth, and was spilling most of it on the front of his pajamas. Then I saw his hands. All of his fingers were bent grotesquely out of shape in different directions, so that it was all but impossible for him to hold a knife and fork properly. "Would you like me to feed you?" I heard myself offer involuntarily. "I sure would," he responded with a smile. "At this rate, I would starve to death." I pulled up a chair along side of him, cut up his meat into bite size pieces, and fed him like a one-year old. He didn't seem to feel the least bit self-conscious about it, and therefore I didn't either.
"What on earth happened?" I asked him directly, and he related that he had woken up one morning six weeks before to find his hands frozen in this position. After a series of tests, the doctors still had no explanation for it. They had hoped that somehow it might correct itself and go away as suddenly as it had appeared, but there had been no change during all that time. They were doing some advanced testing now, using all the most modern equipment available, in an effort to determine the cause of the problem and what to do about it. Because he lived alone, I asked him how he managed at home, and he said that his daughter lived nearby, and came in before going to work in the morning, and again on her way home at night. Also, his son, who was a priest and had a church parish several hours away, came every Saturday to mow the grass and help with whatever needed to be done around the house.

Then he asked me about myself, my family, and how I came to move to Cape Cod; and he was so interested in me and my story, that it was some time before I realized that we were spending more time talking about me, and my kids, and my hands, than we were about him. I turned the conversation back to what he had done before retiring to the Cape, and he told me that he had lived in New Jersey, where he had been a life insurance salesman for many years with one of the large national life insurance companies. He loved selling insurance, because he found that he could help people in an important area of their lives which they were not capable of handling themselves. With that attitude, he became one of their most valued salesmen, and eventually was made an executive officer and director of the company. He was such a warm, gregarious person, that I just naturally liked him, and I could easily understand his success.

Besides all this, however, there was something else about this man that fascinated me. Here he was with a debilitating disability, far more serious than the temporary problem that I had with my hands, and facing the distinct possibility that he might be burdened with it for the rest of his life; and yet he was more positive and outgoing in his attitude, and cheerful in his spirit, than I was. I was convicted of my own self-centeredness and self pity, and particularly of my lack of gratitude for the many blessings that were mine, and that I so easily had come to take for granted.

By the time that I finally got up to leave, a strong bond had formed between us, as though we were old friends, and indeed, I felt that we were just that. He thanked me profusely for what I had done for him, and, with tears in his eyes, repeated several times how much my caring had meant to him. There were also tears in my eyes, as I told him honestly that he had helped me, too. Before I left, I took his gnarled hands in my own and said, "I'll pray for those hands," and I heard him answer softly, "And I for yours. God bless you, Buzz."
---
Word: I have commanded you to love me with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your mind, and to love your neighbor as you have loved yourself. How are you to do this, since it is your human nature and your life's pattern to love yourself instead of others? Ah, child, the love that I am requiring of you is not your natural human love, because that is divided at best, and as changeable as the wind. I am requiring you to love me with the same love with which I love you, which is a superhuman love, a divine love, a love that is total and inalterable. How can that be?
My love for you, my son, is far beyond your understanding, and you cannot even begin to imagine the extent of it. Consider the universe and the billions of stars that it encompasses. With your radio telescopes, you can probe its closer part, and you can measure in light years the distance to its nearby stars, but my love for you is so great that no measure exists that can describe the smallest part of it. Consider the sea. You can travel its length and breadth, and fathom its depths. You can even chart accurately every inch if it, but you cannot fathom my love, for there is no end to its depth.

And yet, in a way that is beyond your knowing, my love must be returned to me to be complete, and for this I am dependent upon you. Receive my love, child, of which there is no other that is true, and in receiving it, you, like a mirror, will reflect it back to me, and to your neighbor, also. Thereby, there shall flow through you an outpouring of love which you can neither understand nor contain, leaving no shred of self love behind.