The Cusp

After knocking, I entered her hospital room. It was my job as a social worker, to help her make post-hospital discharge plans. I hated my job-this sending of people to a living graveyard euphemistically called "nursing home." I hated the sadness and resignation on their faces; the sense of end and finality that accompanied my discussions with them and their families. But this time was to be different. Her gnarled hands were crossed on the bed covers. Her frail body barely mounded the clean smooth linen. Her life story was etched into the lines and furrows of her face; each a memory to one who knew the script. I introduced myself and we began the discussion of her needs. As we talked, her face began to change. Slowly at first, then more rapidly, the furrows and ridges gave way to clear smooth skin. Her hands,, rough and worn, became dainty and supple. Grey hospital-mussed hair turned to neat auburn curls. Her voice took on the timbre of youth. Health and vitality glowed from her. A faint radiance began to emanate from her, growing into an intense light that lit the room. Another change began. Slowly her features faded leaving a human-shaped light. At first nothing was distinguishable. Gradually, though, a scene materialized containing perfectly-shaped trees, flowers of hues unknown here, a silvered river and a gated city. One gate opened, through which a figure stepped. As it approached, it resolved into the regal figure of a man. When his body filled the entire outline of hers, he stopped, looked through into my world and smiled. His forehead bore a ragged pattern of small scars; His wrists each bore an ugly round wound. He held His hands out to me, displaying the scars; extending an invitation. Slowly the vision faded and once again the youthful skin, hair and hands returned to that of an old woman nearing death. Well, it didn't happen quite that way. What did happen was, for the first time in my life, I met someone who knew Jesus. Our conversation turned, somehow, to Him. She was a portal, a window into that other place and that Person. She spoke of Him in terms I did not understand but longed to experience. I wanted to spend the rest of the day there and absorb this…this what? Church, denomination and doctrines were my only experience. It is sad that this was not a turning point in my life—that came nearly 15 years later. But looking back, I now see that interchange, those few moments, as a little glimpse into what I now have: the reality of Him in the fellowship of His Bride. May it now be that I too dwell on that same cusp of here and now, then and there; that I may also be the portal between the two worlds for someone else. 2.10.08