Grateful Wonder
By Pamalia Culvern
Pamalia continues to thrive in Madison, Georgia. New to the empty-nest phase of life, she has taken up writing and continues volunteer work with Young Life and the local high school mentoring program.

Wonder is a marvelous word. It takes you to a place of stillness, almost like a pause.

I was visiting an elderly woman named Betty in the nursing home here in Madison one afternoon. I'd been looking for some volunteer work in order to enable me to touch the lives of others. We can invest ourselves by offering our time or talent. It's really quite simple. God had worked a miracle in my life over the past five years and healed the image I held of Him as a judgmental and stern god. The living water He promises us in His word had begun to spill out of me and flow toward others He had put in my path.

Betty was one of the residents that no one came to see. I'd specifically asked for patients like that. She was bedridden and unresponsive. I remember being overcome with sadness as I first saw her, so helpless and pitiful lying there void of life as we know it. Her mouth was drawn and her lips were dried and chapped. She'd once had a voice yet today, here and now, she was encompassed in silence. Her hair was majestic silver and her light blue eyes seemed quite lifeless. If the eyes are the windows to our soul, where was her soul? Was it suspended in a never land, dead to the present? I wondered was she truly unaware.

Having graduated from nursing school, I'd been taught that our hearing was the last sense we lose so in addition to rubbing her hands with lotion, I decided that I could sing to her. I carry a pretty decent tune so I mustered up some nerve by rationalizing the thought that my song would beat the hustle and bustle sounds the daily routine provided. I wondered about the occasional frantic cries from fellow patients that would come like unexpected lightning flashes; Did they frighten Betty? Her eyes were glazed and cloudy so her sight gave way to nothingness. Sometimes terror is in the unknown.

I thought Betty might remember some of the old hymns from long ago. Although I'd grown up singing them, it'd been quite awhile since I'd tried to recollect the familiar words and tunes from my childhood. Modern day churches have opted for praise choruses so the hymns of old seemed to have faded like the names of our elementary school classmates.

I began singing "Rock of Ages" and was nearing the chorus when Betty's roommate startled me. She had walked over, stood beside me and joined in with her weak, frail voice. Arm in arm our voices rang out for Betty, hoping to reach some part of her heart. The melody rose from our little duet like a sweet fragrance. I wondered how long it had been since Betty's roommate had heard the old song yet the words seemed to magically awaken inside her. It was a precious, simple moment that I'll not soon forget.

The next week as I rubbed lotion on Betty's arms and applied chap stick to her dried lips, I was amazed at the good care she obviously received. Touch is an invaluable tool in healing the hurt and brokenhearted. She had no bedsores whatsoever. They are always a road map of neglect. I stood in reflection and was grateful for the care she had been delivered. The nursing assistants are often disregarded and unappreciated. They are the invisible force in quite, constant motion. They are there as the day begins, and as the day ends. I recalled how the Bible says the last shall be first and the least shall be the greatest. What a gift these caregivers are to our elderly, those who are often overlooked or forgotten.

After awhile, I got lost in the moment daydreaming of what Betty must've been like as a young, vibrant girl. What were her dreams? Her fears? Her hobbies of interest? Where did she grow up and where was her family now? Falling into my own wilderness of wonder, something happened in my spirit that I can't quite explain. It was a vision that lasted only a few seconds. But this vision impacted me in such a way to leave a knowledgeable understanding. It is that while we are here in this life, we are all connected in a far deeper way than we can ever realize or begin to fathom.

I got to peer and catch a small glimpse behind the veil; The veil where enlightenment awaits and truth is revealed. Things are simple there and love abounds. Betty was a beautiful young girl in a lush field behind the veil. She was running free, barefoot with sun kissed strands of long golden hair. Her laughter was captivating and as she ran I realized she was running toward something with such sheer excitement it trickled out electrifying her surroundings. She held out both hands and reached forward.

I looked with anticipation and intrigue as the scene played out before me. Betty reached out and locked arms, playfully dancing round and round with......me....Me? Wait! How could I be there? And yet there I was. I felt a wash of recognition bathe over me. I couldn't breathe as I tried to take this magical life scene in. How spectacular. How utterly exhilarating. Betty must be in her eighties; we're nearly 40 years apart in age. Yet I saw myself there. I was there. My mind immediately began to try and comprehend it all. My thoughts gently told me to just let it be. The vision was what it was. Just accept it and be grateful.

Oh how I love experiencing the unexplained. It's a gift that is true only to you. Yet as you share it with others you re-experience it all over again as a treasure uncovered. Behind the veil, Betty and I were close friends. We had the kind of friendship that breeds a calm familiarity. I've always known God works in mysterious ways and is the author of wonder. I can't explain what I saw, but I can tell you I felt the nourishment and peace it baptized me with as I was reawakened to a blessed gratefulness for our moment shared; Grateful that love and truth can never be bound. That was the day Wonder stepped inside me and I met Betty's true spirit.

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