Aiming for Sainthood

We wait, we wait and we watch.  You see all kinds in a hospital; fast businessmen in their expensive suits rushing in for the obligatory visit; the revolving door of nurses checking charts, offering encouragement and managing too many patients while their dinners get cold.  You watch the joyful hellos, long goodbyes and the crushing grief.

You pass room after room empty but for the sick that lie in them quietly watching TV.   And then there are the regulars, the spouses or children, usually the daughters, pale and tired who eat three lifeless meals a day, everyday in the cafeteria and smile at you in the elevator simply because they know you’re the same.

But in that hospital it’s the sounds that that that I remember most. They crouch under beds and wander the hallways to keep you company.  It’s the sound whose secret heart holds, hope and faith, desperation and despair and it is the sound who hears the dozens of prayers offered up in dozens of languages.  And when you’re in that hospital you are a part of it all.      Excerpt- Aiming for Sainthood


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