Arriving at the hospital, it felt eerie and different from the usual hustle bustle of this normally busy hospital. A pair of security guards met me as I walked up to the closed glass doors. They opened the doors, and I relayed my information and they waved me through to the elevators. The darkened and quiet lobby added to the surreal feeling of the night.
Gaining the 5th floor, I proceeded following the numbered signs on above the doorways. A pair of lock doors halted my progress, as I repeatedly kept pushing the button with no effect. Finally, an attentive young nurse met me and parted the doors. “You’re here for Vivian I assume? Her family is waiting down at the end of the hallway.” I thanked her and proceeded down the long corridor of rooms. The lights had been dimmed and a few nurses quietly went about their humble and most important work of the night shift. I thought to myself, that this incredible mostly hidden work goes on night after night by these nurses with no one to applaud or appreciate what they do and do so well.
Seeing a pair of people gathered at the darkened end of the hall, I quietly introduced myself. Kate, the 20 some-thing granddaughter smiled through reddened, tear-soaked eyes as she thanked me for coming. Roger, the stoic son, nodded in gratitude as well. We spent a good 15 minutes in quiet conversation getting acquainted and finding out more about each of their lives and that of Vivian’s situation. It became immediately clear that Kate loved and adored her grandmother who had been so important to her in life.
After a time, I asked if it would be good to go and pray for Vivian. Both nodded in agreement as we stood and proceeded back down the hallway. I wasn’t prepared for what was about to take place.
I had wrongfully anticipated an unconscious woman to pray over. Instead, I found Vivian, 87 years old, wide awake, alert and extremely clear in her thoughts. I introduced myself and took a seat bedside, her with a clear plastic oxygen mask, and me with my Covid mask and we began to get acquainted as I peppered her with questions of her life and history. When I asked her, what had been her greatest joy in life, she instantly shot back that it was her husband Bernard, and a slight smile grew across her aged face. She told me the story of their meeting and that it had been a love story ever since. “Oh it wasn’t always perfect, but we loved each other through the thick and thin. He was so good to me. I feel so lucky to have had him in my life.” Bernie had died several years ago, and she still missed him.
I mentioned that there could soon be a joyous and loving homecoming. Her head rolled to face me as she smiled and said she was very much looking forward to that. And then the tables turned as is so often the case when I come and try to “do” ministry. Vivian began to witness, to speak of faith and hope. Her excitement to go to her real home and be with Jesus. She told me she was ready, “If Jesus wants me tonight, I’ll go. I’m ready.”
There was so much conviction in her voice, so much certainty, like the clarity that following tonight’s darkness, would come a new dawn. Just like every day. There would be dark, followed by light. I live here now, but soon I will walk with Jesus. This wasn’t a synthetic faith as so often comes from the pulpit or pew. This was real, this was at her core. This faith was her foundation. Though she may have been frail with age and infirmity, her faith was strong and solid.
I invited the three of them to join me in prayer as I lifted-up each of them, but especially Vivian. I prayed for a peaceful journey, and a joyous homecoming. After praying I gave my phone number to Kate and asked her to call if they needed me again or wanted to give me an update. The call never came. A week later, I still have no idea what happened to Vivian. We had all been just strangers that passed in the night.
Driving home at 2:30 a.m. through the darkened, quiet, and sleeping city, I smiled. I turned off my radio. I’d had the privilege of meeting a saint. Saint Vivian. She had blessed with her smiles, her stories and most of all her faith. I’m not sure of the why’s or what’s of fate or destiny that had brought us together for this brief moment in time. I’m one who normally asks a lot of “why did this happen? How did this intersection happen? What was I supposed to learn from this? type questions. No answers came. It just was.
May God bless you on your journey Vivian. You certainly blessed me.
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