by Paula Mowery
“Go on.” I sipped some diet soda.
“I just remembered, Dorothy Myer’s husband, Billy, is going in for a stress test. She doesn’t have anyone to sit with her. Could you go?’
“Be the blessing.” The voice reminded.
I didn’t need much urging. Going to a doctor’s office or hospital to sit with someone to keep them company seemed to be a small task. Besides, Miss Dorothy was a precious senior lady I had just begun to get to know. “No problem, hon. What do I need to do and when?”
“I’ll just let you call the Myers. His appointment is at nine, so it might be easier to pick them up yourself. In the middle of the test, he’ll have to eat and then come back. Take them some place on us and use the credit card.”
“OK.” I rose. “You be careful driving to and from Knoxville.”
“All right and thanks for doing this.”
“You’re welcome. Love you.”
I phoned the Myers, and our plan was set. I ran through the shower and donned jeans and a comfortable shirt. I filled a small bag with a puzzle book, pencil, my latest novel, and a couple of granola bars and packages of crackers. I checked my purse for dollar bills and quarters for vending machine drinks, then I shoved a sweater into my bag in case the waiting room was cold and headed out.
All the way to the hospital, Dorothy and Billy kept thanking me for taking the time to do this, but it was no problem. After Billy went back for his test, Dorothy and I settled into a couple of drab green chairs in a corner of the waiting room.
“Granola bar?” I fished in my bag then held the offering out to Dorothy.
“Thank you. I didn’t have the heart to eat in front of Billy since he wasn’t allowed to eat this morning.”
We nibbled on granola bars and crackers. Then I jogged to the hallway for some drinks. I offered her a cola, as I took the seat beside her.
“I must tell you that Billy has so enjoyed Pastor Griffey’s sermons. Of course, I do too, but Billy really studies his Bible. He likes what a good teacher your husband is.” Dorothy smiled.
“Griffey’s always been such a great speaker. But, he doesn’t take compliments well. I guess that’s not a bad thing. Modesty and humility are attractive qualities. I wouldn’t want him to get a big head.” I returned.
We had gotten so engrossed in our conversation, we didn’t notice the time.
A nurse came into the waiting area and looked around at the few people in the room. Her gaze searching.
“Mrs. Myers?”
Dorothy waved her hand. The nurse noticed and stepped to our little corner. “Just wanted you to know that in about twenty minutes Mr. Myers will be finished with this first phase of the test and ready to get a bite to eat.”
Dorothy nodded. “OK, thank you.”
There was the whisper again, urging me on, but I was already here. I had brought them and fully planned on taking them out for lunch. I was confused as to why I would need prompting again. I shrugged and packed in the articles I had removed from my tote.
I had just stowed the bag beside my chair and clasped my hands in my lap when several hospital personnel rushed through the door leading to the testing area.
Dorothy’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm, wonder what that was all about?”
“I don’t know.” I scooted to the edge of my chair craning my neck and straining to hear what was happening.
Moments later a doctor and the same nurse emerged from the door. As they walked directly up to us, my pulse quickened. Dorothy and I stood at the same time.
“Mrs. Myers?”
His brows were furrowed. Not a good sign. My heart beat a little faster.
Dorothy took a step forward. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Myers?”
“Why don’t we step into this room for privacy?” The doctor gestured toward a door to the right.
The voice. Oh no... I didn’t like the sound of this. The doctor and nurse were certainly wearing grim faces. Asking Dorothy into a private room didn’t seem normal protocol for a stress test.
The doctor motioned Dorothy, and she grabbed my hand.
“My pastor’s wife. She has to come too.”
He nodded, and we settled into the small room, he and the nurse stepped inside, and he closed the door.
“Is Billy ready to go?” Dorothy said as she leaned to look around the two medical personnel.
“Mrs. Myers, we’re sorry, but there was a complication, Mr. Myers passed out.”
“But the nurse was just here. Everything was fine —“ she stammered.
“It happened while she was speaking with you.” The doctor put a hand on her forearm. “Mrs. Myers, we were unable to revive him.”
Dorothy’s hands flew to her mouth. I placed my arm around her shoulders.
“No. He was here for a test— just a test.” Dorothy’s face went pale.
“We’re sorry, ma’am.”
The nurse turned toward the door.
“Can I see him?” Dorothy’s eyes pleaded.
The doctor patted Dorothy’s arm. His expression softened, understanding emanated from his eyes. “Wait here.”
Dorothy stood in stunned silence, staring after the doctor’s retreating form. I feared she might collapse from the sheer shock, so I guided her to a chair in the small room. My lips were stunned into silence, but I began silently praying with all my might for words. Any words to comfort her. No wonder I had been prompted again. How awful it would’ve been for her to be alone right now.
“Dorothy, do you need me to call someone for you?” I rubbed her upper arm. “What can I do?”
Dorothy shook her head still staring blankly ahead. “I need to see him.” Her hands lay in her lap one atop the other.
I placed my hand on hers and patted. “Yes, that doctor asked you to wait here, so I’m sure they’ll come for you soon.”
Her head whipped around and her gaze fixed upon me. “You’ll stay with me?”
I swallowed at the lump in my throat. “Sure, Dorothy, whatever you need.”
She nodded and diverted her gaze back to her lap.
I dug my cell phone from my purse and hurriedly texted Griffey a cryptic message about Billy’s death and pleading prayer for me as I dealt with Dorothy. I wasn’t sure the message would send from inside the hospital. But soon my phone vibrated and Griffey’s return message indicated he would come as fast as he could and would pray the whole way from Knoxville.
The doctor returned and led us into a nearby room. My breath caught in my throat when I saw Billy stretched out on a hospital bed. Just that morning when I had picked up the couple, Billy had joked and teased as was his normal way. He was so full of life. The irony struck me. Dorothy dropped her grip on my hand and moved to his side, gently taking his hand. She stood staring at his lifeless form. No sobs. No tears. Just silence.
The quiet broke momentarily when the doctor came in flanked by a woman in a neat navy-blue suit. They only nodded to me as they entered. The woman touched Dorothy’s shoulder to which she jumped, her head jerking around breaking her trance.
“Mrs. Myers, I’m Ms. Graham. We need to know who to contact for arrangements.”
I guessed by her sing-song voice and professional attire that she was some kind of social worker. Dorothy nodded still staring blankly at nothing in particular. Ms. Graham and the doctor spoke in hushed tones and then guided Dorothy to a nearby chair.
I feared for Dorothy. She seemed to be in total shock. She didn’t respond to them. I stepped forward and knelt at her feet, placing my hands on her knees. “Dorothy, what funeral home did Billy want?”
Her gaze fixated on my face. “West Hills. He always said West Hills.”
I patted her knees and smiled. “OK, honey.” I heard the fading sounds of footsteps as the doctor and Ms. Graham exited.
“It was only a test. How could this be?” Her eyes looked directly into mine with a desperation that broke my heart.
Hot tears trailed down my cheeks. There was no stopping them. “I don’t know, Dorothy.
I’m so sorry.” I managed to squeak out.
She stood and shuffled back to Billy’s side, stroking his cheek. I sat in the chair watching Dorothy closely for any signs of fainting. The tension in my own shoulders and neck began to cause me to slump. I wasn’t sure how long we kept our vigil.
At a knock at the door, I turned my head. Relief washed over me at the sight of Griffey. I bit my bottom lip in an effort to quell another flood of tears. As Griffey entered, he glanced at Billy’s body and then came to my side smoothing my hair back. He kissed my forehead and then moved to Dorothy’s side. He took one of Dorothy’s hands in his. “Dorothy, it’s Pastor Griffey. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” His voice broke.
“Don’t fret about it. Dear Addy has been here with us.” Her gaze never left her husband’s face.
“I’m so glad she was.” He glanced at me and winked. He turned his attention back to Dorothy.
Suddenly, she wheeled around facing Griffey. “Now, Pastor, you will do the service and Addy, you just have to sing. Billy loved to hear both of you.”
The funeral home director and his assistant arrived, giving Griffey and me a moment to speak in private.
“Honey, I can’t thank you enough for being here.” He brushed my cheek with his hand.
“There’s no need for thanks. I’m really glad I heeded the prompting. She would’ve been all alone. And, I’m concerned about her. She has yet to shed a tear. She’s in shock.” I shook my head.
“It hasn’t hit her yet.” He sighed.
“We can’t take her home and leave her alone.” My voice sounded as desperate as I felt at the moment. “Is there someone, nearby? I know all of her children are grown and live out of state.”
Griffey stroked his chin in thought. “There’s her sister. She lost her husband just last year.”
After all the arrangements were made, we dropped Dorothy at her sister’s house and headed home. Since we still had both cars, we met in the garage. I started toward the basement door.
“Hey, hon,” Griffey called to my back.
I wheeled around.
“I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m gonna have to run back out and snag a fast food burger or something.” I noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
I hadn’t thought about it until now, but I was empty as well. I too hadn’t eaten since Dorothy and I nibbled on granola bars and crackers earlier. “I agree. I’ll ride with you.” I hooked my seatbelt and sighed deeply.
Griffey patted my arm. “You’ve had quite a day.”
“I’m not sure if I was much help. I didn’t really do anything.” I shrugged.
“You were there. That was enough.”
“I guess so.”
“I know so.”
Was this how I was to become more like Christ? Had I fulfilled the prompting to be the blessing? My mind was wreaked with doubt. If being a blessing to others was what God wanted from me, I desired to do my best. When I experienced the visions, I had finally learned to open my mouth and encourage another person. That had come through a process, not all at once. I had learned God would guide, and He would give me the words. Was this a process?
****
The next morning I suited up in my exercise gear. As I pulled my right arm through my tank top, again, I felt a sore tug in my upper chest. I had taken no walks for several months, since before Dad’s stroke. My body was obviously out of shape and out of practice. Outside the air was already muggy, and I worked up a sweat in just a few minutes.
“Addy.”
I stopped and wheeled about. “Conrad, how wonderful to see you. After seeing you when Dad …” My voice trailed off.
His face sported a compassionate smile. “Yes, you’ve had an opportunity to be a blessing to more than your father.”
I diverted my gaze to the ground and kicked at some small pebbles. “I suppose. I’m just not sure exactly what to do to be more like Christ.” I looked up and met his eyes. “The verse in First Peter says my job is to bless. What does that really mean?”
“Did you notice the characteristics listed above that part of the passage?”
I felt my brow knit. “No.” I shook my head.
“You have already been sympathetic, compassionate, and loving—these are qualities of Christ.” His brows rose.
We walked on in silence until my front door came into view. I marched up the walkway while Conrad continued down the street. Stepping inside the house, I glanced back to find Conrad’s form gone.
After showering, I immediately went to my desk, grabbing my Bible. There were the verses I still had marked in First Peter. My mouth fell open when I scanned the passage just above the one I had focused upon. I read the list of qualities aloud. “Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble, no retaliation, no sharp-tongued sarcasm.” I leaned my elbows on the desk and propped my chin on my hands. “Hmm.” I thought about those qualities, remembering Conrad had told me I had already accomplished three of them. Was that the key to accomplishing this task? Did I simply need to check off the other characteristics?
5
As I slipped into my black dress for Billy Myers’s funeral, my hands already had a slight tremor. I would be singing. I wished to do a good job, since Dorothy had specifically requested me as soloist. I became particularly nervous when singing at a funeral service. I guessed that was because I wanted to do it just perfect—what would please and comfort the family.
When Griffey and I entered the back of the funeral home chapel about seven o’clock for the eight o’clock service, the visitation line stretched down the aisle, into the hallway, and nearly to the front door. We made our way past the line of friends and family. I spotted Dorothy standing near the head of the opened casket standing tall with no tears.
I scanned for the piano and noticed an enclosed area to the left. I slipped around the corner and plopped onto a small pew behind the piano and microphone stand. I was relieved I would be hidden from the crowd during my solo. Keeping my emotions in check would be easier that way.
As Dorothy greeted family and friends, I watched the pictures of Billy’s life scroll through on a screen in the front of the chapel. The pictures told the story of a man who had been an inspiration to so many people. He had certainly followed the words of First Peter. Scenes with smiling grandchildren. Scenes with the senior group at church. Scenes depicting his hands working or his mouth teaching to benefit others.
I blinked back tears. Billy had been what I was striving to become. I wanted others to see that in me. I whispered a prayer that God would help me. I would strive to accomplish the remaining traits I’d been reading about.
After the service, Dorothy made her way to me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she dabbed at her nose with a tissue. She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Thank you. The song was just perfect.”
“I’m so glad.” I hugged her.
“I have something for you.” She handed me a small gift bag. “Billy was always picking up little trinkets and things for the people in our Sunday school class. I found this and knew it was for you.” She embraced me again. “It fits you.” Her voice broke.
“Thank you.” My bottom lip began to quiver.
Someone caught Dorothy’s attention, and I slipped beside Griffey. He spoke one last time to Dorothy and then we made our way to the parking lot. Once in the car, I let out a heavy sigh. I turned toward Griffey. “You did a great job with the service.”
“Thanks. Somebody like Billy—it’s easy. Like I said during the funeral service, he’s already preached his own funeral through the way he lived. And, you did a great job, too.” He rubbed my back.
“Good. I was glad to be hidden.”
“Probably for the best. When you started to sing, Dorothy broke down and let the tears flow.”
“I’m definitely glad I couldn’t see that. I would’ve never made it.”
Griffey nodded toward my gift. “What’s that?”
“It’s from Dorothy.” I pulled out
the tissue paper and carefully unwrapped what was inside. I held the petite figurine up so as to catch the outside lights from the funeral home. I gasped.
“What?” Griffey leaned nearer.
My emotions blocked my ability to speak. The ceramic figure was a small white angel with gold lettering across the chest reading: Angel of Blessing.
Griffey sat back against his seat. “Wow.”
I swiped at tears and let out a chuckle.
****
Though the intense heat of summer had scorched many lawns, leaves still glowed green on trees and bushes. The sky was clear and blue except for a few lacy clouds here and there. I had built up my speed to a nice clip and relished in the birds’ morning songs.
“The beauty of His creation is a blessing, isn’t it?”
My head snapped around to find Conrad walking by my side. “Yes. That’s one of the reasons I enjoy walking outside.”
We walked along a few paces without a word.
“You know, Conrad, I did go back and look up the verses in First Peter again. I’m doing pretty good on the list.”
He stopped abruptly, and I followed suit. His expression was serious as he stared into my eyes, and I felt a little nervous.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Addy, this Christian life is not a list of tasks to check off. The qualities listed in First Peter or any other places in Scripture, for that matter, are to become a part of your character—make you more like Christ Jesus.”
I bowed my head, shifting my gaze to the ground feeling properly scolded. Conrad’s hand touched my shoulder, and I raised my eyes toward him again.
“It’s a lesson every believer must learn. Being a Christian is not what you do; it’s who you are.” His expression softened, and a pleasant smile replaced the firmness. “To truly touch others, your life must emanate all of those characteristics all of the time.”
I puffed out my cheeks with air and then blew it out, eyes widened. Conrad chuckled and shook his head. “Not an easy task, I know.”
We started to walk again this time more slowly. “I’m beginning to think having visions and encouraging people based upon them might have been the easier task.”