you made my day

I stood at the foot of his hospice bed.  His eyes fluttered open and he gave me a little smile.  I introduced myself and talked to him for a moment.  Then he tried to respond.  His lips moved but no sound came out.  I asked him to repeat it and tried my best to lip read but understood nothing.  I fought the urge to bolt, took a deep breath and moved closer.  "I'm so sorry Mr. Albert.  I can't hear you.  Can I just keep you company for a few minutes?"  He reached out his hand to me.  I took that as a yes.  I talked about the day, the weather outside, the picture on his bedside table.  I tried a few yes or no questions, so he could participate in the conversation with a few nods.  As I was wrapping things up, he tried to talk again.  "What?"  I leaned closer and I could make out his whisper.   "You      Made       My      Day." 
    
How precious!  Is it any wonder that I love these sweet elderly men?  I get teased about my affinity for them when I come back to the office with another story about a another darling old man.  But really - their eyes sparkle, they have the best stories, and they are delighted to have someone to talk to.  What's not to love?
    
So to all my old men - like Mr. Oatmeal,  Mr. Food Poisoning,  Mr. Frequent Flyer,   Mr. Bear Hunter,  Mr. Country Fried Steak,  Mr. Struggling to Breath, and Mr. Paratrooper - Thank you for talking to me.  You made my day!

What do you know that we don't know? What insights do you have that we've missed?  Gray beards and white hair back us up— old folks who've been around a lot longer than you.  Are God's promises not enough for you, spoken so gently and tenderly?  Job 15:9-11 The Message