We All Belong To Each Other

 

My three year-old G-boy is fascinated by the fact that all of his favorite people seem to be connected to each other.

“My Daddy is your son,” he tells me on a regular basis, waiting with a smile for me to claim his Dad as my own.

“He sure is. And your G-Dad is my Daddy.”

He used to fall for that one, much to the chagrin of the Dickman.  Now he just laughs and says, “Silly MiMi! G-Dad belongs to you. And Poppy belongs to Nana. And Mama belongs to Daddy. And I belong to everybody!” 

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I was much older than my grandson when I realized our connectedness is not only with those who share my name or Daddy's stubby fingers or Flodie's pug nose.  It took me awhile to understand that the connection extends to every single person we meet.

It's simple deductive reasoning:  If I belong to God and you belong to God... then we all belong to each other.  Right?

And it's all fun and games until you realize that 'everybody' includes the street-walking bum carrying all his worldly possessions on his back.  Even him.  He belongs to you and me.

But wait, it gets worse!  Those yahoos up in Washington who call themselves our leaders?  Sigh.  Hard as it is to accept, even they belong to us.  Just think of them as the creepy uncle you have to deal with every Thanksgiving.  The one that picks his teeth at the table and scratches his crotch way too much.

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The Dickman and I were  driving west on I-40 when we noticed a small army of vehicles with lights blinking just ahead of us. As we drove closer, it became obvious that a horrific accident had just occurred. A mangled, twisted ball of metal lay between the two lanes of traffic, unrecognizable as a car. It was unimaginable that anyone might have survived such a catastrophic wreck. I pulled my attention back to the road and Dickie started talking – saying anything to try and distract me.

The tears just started flowing. I couldn't hold them back. It was a visceral reaction, knowing that someone had died, realizing that a soul was in transition.  It didn't matter if  I knew them or not.  I was softened by sadness for a life that had ended in such a violent way... grieved for those who would truly be affected by this tragedy.

Later that evening, the deceased was identified on the news.  He was a stranger to me, yet I carry his name in my heart.  Because you see, for a short moment in time he belonged to me.

We all belong to each other.

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The wife of my new patient greeted me at the door, eyes wide with concern. “Oh! I'm so glad you are here. My daughter is on her way over. Something is wrong with him... he's not making sense. He's hurting so bad.” She led me through the tidy home and introduced me to the elderly man slumped in his recliner, obviously in distress.

“Hey buddy... I hear you're having a bad day.”

He raised his head with difficulty and tried to focus on my face. Glaucoma had left him totally blind in one eye and with only minimal vision in the other.

“Yes,” he rasped, “A bad day. Am I gonna die?”

Looking at him, I was afraid he just might.  I glanced up at his wife and saw the same concern mirrored in her faded blue eyes. I gently put my hand on his shoulder and mustered a bright smile.

“No, sir!  At least not today. Okay...?”

He gave me a long, discerning look, and the corner of his mouth turned up just the tiniest bit.

As I assessed his vitals, I threw up a quick, silent prayer...

“Hey Jesus, in case you didn't hear... I just told this sweet old man that he wasn't going to die today. I probably should've checked with you first, but I really, really hope you'll work with me here.  Please, please don't take him today.”

After consulting with his nurse and doctor, EMS was called. The paramedics loaded him onto a gurney as his wife and daughter ran around the house, preparing for an impromptu trip to the hospital. I stood with them as  our sweet man was loaded into the ambulance, knowing their anxiety and helplessness, their hopes and prayers were riding in that ambulance with their beloved. I gave them both a squeeze and promised to keep them in my prayers.

As I drove away, I once again found myself fighting back tears. Not so much for my very sick patient, but mostly for his bride of six decades, for his worried daughter. I hurt with the ones he belonged to.  Because we all belong to each other. 

My prayer was brief.

“Sweet Jesus... you know. Before I speak, you already know what needs to happen here. I pray for healing while trusting  your will. These people need you, Jesus... please blanket them with your comforting presence, give them the peace that only you can give.”

My prayers were for them, yet His comfort reached me, too.  My soul was filled with peace... that blessed peace that only comes from belonging to Him.

 

Because we all belong to Somebody...