Little Acts Of Kindness

by Kay Heitsch 

"Could you come in here for a minute?" I heard Martha* ask as I rounded the corner. "Sure, what do you need?" I replied. Opening her closet, this 80+-year-old lady pulled out an outfit. "I'd like you to take this. I think it would look cute on you." I didn't know quite what to say. As you might well imagine, this outfit was not something I would ever think of wearing. However, I took it and thanked Martha very much for thinking of me. 

I put the outfit in the facility's laundry room and asked the staff to put it back in her room in a few days. Since this was a memory care unit, I was sure Martha would forget she gave it to me; and she may even start accusing someone of stealing it. 

Martha liked gum. I chewed gum quite often, and Martha would usually comment about the gum. It was funny how she would comment but not come right out and ask for any. I'd generally say, "Would you like a stick of gum?" Martha would always reply, "

Sure!" It wasn't long, and hospice was called in because Martha was dying. Over the years, I've been with several people as they were dying, and all are not the same. Martha was having a tough time. I walked by her room, and I could hear the hospice nurse trying to calm her down. It was apparent nothing was working. My heart went out to Martha and the hospice nurse. 

I said a quick prayer and walked into the room. I quietly walked over to Martha's bed and put my hand gently on her chest. I bent down close to her and whispered her name. Martha immediately became calm. Her breathing relaxed, and she stopped yelling. I looked at the hospice nurse and asked her what happened. The nurse said that Martha, though she didn't know my name, recognized my voice, touch, the smell of my perfume, and the smell of the gum. These were things that she remembered, and the sound and smell of them brought her comfort. 

I've found that it's these little acts of kindness that mean so much and add meaning to life. Showing care and compassion to someone, even if they don't know your name, brought comfort that day to a dying friend. 

*Name has been changed.

Our God Is An AWESOME God!

by Kay Heitsch 

If you're like me, most of your days are uneventful. When I went to South Broadway Nursing Home for my weekly visit, I never expected that this night would be any different. Boy, was I wrong! I walked into the nursing home that evening at 7:00. As always, I had my basket full of candy for the residents and the staff. Each evening I would start by leaving my coat and purse in Bertha's room. I'd met Bertha several years before when she lived in the old section of the nursing home. Bertha and I had developed a close relationship.

To be honest, when I first started to go to South Broadway, I didn't go into Bertha's room. When I peeked in the dimly lit room, I saw a bed with the sides up. I wasn't sure what condition this person was in and felt uncomfortable with the situation. As time went on, I began to feel a nudge from the Lord to go into the room. To my surprise, I found the person in the bed to be a delightful little lady. Bertha had broken her hip, and by the time I came in the evening, she was already in bed. Over the years, Bertha talked to me about her family and her life. She was incredibly proud of her granddaughter, who Bertha said was a Christian counselor in a nearby town. On this particular evening, I headed right for Bertha's room as usual. I walked in with a big smile and said, "Hi," like I usually did. I quickly took off my coat and hid my purse underneath the skin. I knew Bertha would keep an eye on it as she always had.

I was going about my routine; then I walked over to Bertha's bed with the basket of candy. For some reason, Bertha didn't look quite right. In a hushed voice, she whispered, "Kay, I've been waiting for you. Would you please give me a sip of water?" I saw a glass of water with a straw in it on her tray. I put the straw up to her lips. When Bertha took a sip of water, she started to cough; then, she began to throw up slightly. Yikes!

I didn't know what to do. I took off like a streak of lightning out of the door! I ran to the nurse's desk and told them Bertha had started to throw up. The nurse remained calm then said, "Kay, Bertha's been waiting for you." Looking down then slowly looking at me, the nurse continued, "Bertha is dying. She's been waiting for you so you could be with her when she goes."

I felt stunned by her words. Together with the nurse, and I walked back down to Bertha's room. I walked over to Bertha's bed and gently took her hand. The nurse took Bertha's blood pressure and checked her heart, then quietly walked out of the room. I wish I could say that I had said something profound to Bertha, but I have no idea what I even spoke. I know I told her everything was going to be all right; and that I genuinely believed. I was holding Bertha's shaky hand and still rubbing her arm when she stopped breathing. This was the first time I had ever been with a person when they died. I walked out to the desk and told the nurse Bertha was gone. As I was walking back, I could see the other residents from home looking at me. One of the staff said, "Kay, the other people are all waiting for you." I knew she was right. I don't know how I did it, but I went back into Bertha's room, picked up the candy basket, and went about my routine visit, giving hugs and passing out the candy.

Years later, my dear friend Ruth Ann died. I'd moved to another state by this time, and I started to email Ruth Ann's husband, Ed. Ed told me that he was getting remarried. Ed talked about his new wife, Connie. After Ed and Connie were married for a while, I remembered Ed had told me that Connie was a Christian counselor. I thought of Bertha and how she had talked about her granddaughter, who was also a Christian counselor. I emailed Ed and asked him if Connie's grandmother had been in South Broadway Nursing Home. Sure enough, she had. I told Ed that I had been with her when she died. Connie emailed me.

I sent an email in reply, sharing with her my friendship with Bertha. Connie was pleased to know that I had been with her grandma when she died. After all these years, I am still amazed to see how the Lord was involved in this whole situation. Even years later, after I had moved to another state, God was able to bring closure to Connie, a woman I had never met. Our God is an AWESOME God!

"AVAILABLE"

by Kay Heitsch 

When I chose to become a Christian, I told the Lord I wanted to be "available" whenever and wherever He needed me. 

Being "available" has taken me to some unusual places. One such place was an old, white-framed, two-story nursing home. The rooms in the house were large, with uneven floors. To get to the rooms on the second floor, you had to climb the long, narrow, winding stairs carefully. After going up and down those stairs a few times, I wondered how any of those older people could climb them. 

Every Thursday evening at 7:00, I would find myself "available" to visit this nursing home. The management said I was more dependable than the staff. I always brought a basket full of wrapped candy each time I came to visit. I asked the staff who was diabetic so that I could make sure to have some sugar-free candy for those folks, too. I didn't want anyone to be left out. I walked into every room and greeted each person. Most people were friendly and pleased to see me. Others were gruff and acted like they weren't sure what to think of me. 

One older man was in this latter category. Henry* would hardly look up when I walked in. He seemed almost irritated that I stopped by. Every Thursday evening, I would hesitate outside of Henry's door, thinking, "Lord, do I need to go in here? This man doesn't even like me!" Every week the Lord seemed to say, "Go in." I had gotten started later than usual this particular Thursday evening when I walked up to Henry's room. I peeked in, hoping he was asleep, so I wouldn't need to feel like I was bothering him. Just my luck, Henry was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Oh joy, I guess I should go in and get rejected again," I thought. 

To my surprise, Henry glanced up at me and said in his usual gruff manner, "Will you help me?" I was startled by the question. "Yes, I'll help you. What do you need?" I responded, wondering why I would have said such a thing. "Good grief, I don't even work here. Maybe I should go find someone who does," ran through my mind. I was used to just talking to these people. I had never been asked to "help" anyone. I wondered what Henry wanted. Henry was sitting on the side of the bed in a pair of long underwear. This long underwear had seen better days. I noticed several holes in them, and the color was not exactly what it was when they were new. I noticed a pair of old pajamas he had beside him on the bed. 

Henry lifted his head and looked me straight in the eyes. I could see that he was a proud man who had probably had a hard life. I was sure he had always taken care of himself. Asking for help would have been out of the question. He didn't want to ask for help, but now he was old and feeble and needed it. "What can I do to help you?" I asked. He pointed to the old pajamas. In a gruff voice, but soft he said, "Would you help me put these on?" as he glanced at the pajamas. "I would be happy to," I responded. I had never helped a stranger put on clothes of any kind, let alone pajamas. "Well, there's a first time for everything." I figured. I did my best to help Henry slip his thin arms in the pajama top. The material was so light that I could almost see my skin through them. I carefully lined up the buttons to the holes and buttoned each of them. I gently straightened the wrinkled collar, so it was in place. All the while, Henry sat very still and remained silent. As I picked up the pajama bottom, I found myself kneeling in front of Henry. I felt a strange sense of peace as Henry lifted each of his feet so that I could slip the pajama leg on. I noticed how difficult it was for Henry, even with my help, to put them on. 

With my mission complete, I stood up to leave. Henry slowly lifted his head. When his sad eyes met mine, he whispered, "Thank you." I felt tears filling my eyes. I bent down and gave him a small hug and whispered, "You're welcome." As strange as it may seem, this was one of the most spiritual experiences I have ever had. How could something so humble have such a profound impact on me, I will never understand? All I did was help someone with a small need. I may not have understood what happened, but I knew without a doubt, I had just been kneeling on holy ground. Thank You, Lord, for the opportunity to be "available" once again. 

* Name had been changed.