Jesus in Express Care

Makesha came to Express Care the other day. Physically there just wasn't something completely right about her. She walked kind of funny and her arms and hands were a bit askew. She seemed to be quite bright and answered all my questions. She complained of her toe hurting her. Already in the triage area, I felt a link to her.

I brought her into an exam room and noticed her thin coat - too thin for the 10 degree F weather of the day. Her white sweat shirt was dirty and grayish in colour. She struggled to get her shoe off. I bent down to remove her very black white sweat sock. She cried out "oh, it has gotten worse," a sense of despair in her voice. I looked at her foot - wrinkled and sort of deformed, pieces of dead skin falling off the sole. Her big toe nail was barely attached, not at the base but at the tip of her toe. I got a basin and filled it with normal saline solution with a bit of Betadine for her to soak her foot in. I can't identify my emotion at that time - but there was some grief that she should be in this condition and there was a lot of love.

I returned to her room and rinsed her foot off and dried it gently with a towel. She hopped awkwardly as I supported her to the exam table. I gingerly directed her foot to rest on the blue pad. I felt a strange sense of compassion for her. As I reflect back - I can identify what was happening - Jesus was in that room. He was reaching out to Makesha through me. Just as He had washed the disciples' feet, and as I washed the feet of my friend recently at a seminar on serving, so He was washing Makesha's feet. He was loving her through me.

As she got her x-ray and the toenail was removed, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I so much wanted to get her in the shower and scrub her back, and smear thick moisturizing lotion all over her. I just wanted to love her with Jesus' love. One of the nurse's bought her a juice and a Danish. As I dressed her toe and explained how to change the dressing, I found I kept saying "when you get home." And I kept asking myself, "does she even have a home?" How foolish I am to assume she has a warm place to go to, to be sheltered and cared for. She thanked me profusely and as she out her shoe back on said "Oh that feels so much better now." She put her coat on, gathered up the extra supplies we could give her and headed out the door to catch the bus to go wherever she came from.

That night as I cuddled under my warm duvet, I prayed, "Dear Jesus, keep Makesha warm tonight. Show her how much You love her. Thank You for loving her through me today."