This morning I went to the nursing home to catch up with the saints and then over to the hospital to visit the 93 year old saint in ICU. She had been asking about her friends at the nursing home last night, so I promised to check on them before I visited today.
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When I got to ICU, she was alone. She is still weak, and was worn out from her bath. I pulled a chair up next to her bed and sat down beside her. We talked, and I read her a portion of Psalm 27 and prayed with her. As I was getting ready to leave, she called me back. She wanted to tell me about a strange experience she had.
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Her family had told me that the other night they thought she was dying, and she had been in a lot of pain and calling out to God. She has often told me she wonders why she is still here. Her husband died years ago. So this morning, she told me the following story: "I was talking to God, just having a conversation like I always do. I asked God to come to me and put his arms around me. I was struggling and asking God for help. I asked God to put his arms around me and lift me up and hold me." She went on, describing her prayer, building up the courage to share what she wanted to tell me. "Then I saw these giant arms coming down and holding me. They were just there, these arms. I keep thinking about them."
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I think she was afraid I'd laugh. I told her that what she saw was a gift from God, and she should hold on to that image to carry her through the hard times. I assured her that even though she could no longer see them, God's arms were still wrapped around her. I am honored to be walking with her through this illness, and by sharing her experience with me this morning, she gave me a wonderful gift. It is at times like this that I am in awe of the honor it is to be a pastor.
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