Sunday, March 11, 2012
1 Corinthians 1:18–25
A year before my ordination I shadowed a seasoned pastor as he visited some of the saints of our church at a care facility in Austell, Georgia. We went from door to door and sat and listened and prayed.
"We have one more to see," said my companion as he stepped into the elevator. "Miss Fraser. She's normally unresponsive, but we'll check on her."
We exited the elevator and stepped into a semicircle of wheelchairs in a small alcove, a kind of welcoming committee for expected visitors. No one paid us any attention. A few people knitted, a few whispered about lunch, and one spry gentleman flirted with the woman next to him.
Miss Fraser sat alone, her head dipped low, hands upon her knees. "Miss Fraser, it's Jim. Miss Fraser, I brought someone to meet you." He clutched her hands, but she looked only at her feet. "I want you to meet Casey."
After a few moments, a nurse interrupted, "She's been like that all day, Jim. We'll tell her you came."
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