True Rest

My brother opened his eyes this morning,

he searched for my eyes,

connected with me

and remained focused for a good portion of a minute.

I explained to him briefly

what happened,

why he was in the hospital,

that his condition was improving.

I asked him if his head hurt;

he slowly reached up with his hand

and held his forehead.

I told him that his son and daughter

were with him last night;

he inhaled deeply

then his shoulders and head relaxed

more comfortably than before.

Within minutes, his vital signs

all settled down to within normal range

For the first time in days,

he rested.

Prayerful that this quietness

which had offered his body a respite from pain and confusion

would be emulated in his soul,

I sat quietly

absorbed in the Psalms.

“You have the Word!”

The medical technician smiled.

Reveling in this common ground,

he began to speak

of his homeland, Sierra Leone,

of the suffering and oppression there,

of his opportunity in America,

of his joy in knowing Jesus.

As we shared our God-stories

and drew courage from each other

my brother rested,

yet he seemed aware.

Several hours passed.

My brother began trying to talk,

understanding and responding with purpose.

When I told him countless people

were praying for him,

he replied, “Yup… thankful…….. Jesus.”

~ae

“If the Lord had not been my help,

my soul would soon have dwelt in the abode of silence.

If I should say, ‘My foot has slipped,’

Your lovingkindness, O Lord, will hold me up.

When my anxious thoughts multiply within me,

Your consolations delight my soul…

The Lord has been my stronghold,

and my God the rock of my refuge.”

~Psalm 94:17-19,22