Author Darlene Conard
October 2010

(Some names have been changed for privacy purposes)

My sister’s and I spent weeks at a time in the hospital in Morgantown WV. We believed everything had a purpose. Friendships developed with patients and medical staff. I had the privilege of meeting a six- nine-year-old lady who needed someone to talk to about her deceased husband who served in Vietnam.

I pulled up a chair beside her bed.” How are you, Helen?”

“Oh, I’m as good as I’m gonna’ be I recon.’ Your sister’s just left.” She managed to grin then winked at me. Smiling at her I reached to help her cover her arms. “So, Helen,” I said having full interest, “what do you want to talk about today?” Giving her my full attention, I settled in the chair anxiously waiting. She perked up like a child receiving a brand-new toy. “Did I tell you about my Roy serving in Vietnam?” My expression changed as I arched a brow. “No ma’am.” I shook my head. “Oh, my honey, he had a hard time. I was proud of ‘em. I sent him letters of everything happen’en back home.” Love letters sent during the war kept this soldier strong. I thought. “Oh, honey I miss him so.” The light in the room reflected on her misty- eyes. “We don’t have to talk about it since it hurts you so much.” I pulled several tissues out of the box and handed them to her. Her weak hand raised to wipe her wet cheeks and eyes. “No, it’s ok sweetie. My daughter won’t listen to me- nobody does it seems.” My heart went out to her. She needed to talk about someone who once shared his heart with her. To this day she continued to hold his heart in hers. He took apart of her with him. There was and never will be another such love in her life. For a few moments we silently sat. She took a moment to follow memories that she bottled-up. “Are you okay Helen.” She giggled, “Oh I’m fine honey.” She swept the tissue across her eyes one more time. I wanted to ask her the cause of his death instead I remained quiet. Her silver short curly hair shined matching the shine on her face.

Several nurses walked in disturbing the moment of silence. “Helen I will come back to visit you. I’m sure Janet and Susan will stop in.” I put the chair back in its place then gave her a hug. “Make sure you stop in to see me again hun’. I enjoy having someone to talk to.”

“I will, promise.” I whispered in her ear before breaking from her embrace.

How is it possible to connect with strangers as though they never were strangers? Perhaps that is what God calls bearing witness.
“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world. “James 1:27 KJV

We will never know who we will touch. That day our greatest blessings come through reaching out to others.

Now I understand what one of my close friends meant by kindred spirits. Becky Bailey taught me so much about that. She has went on to her reward.

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