A Glimpse of the Divine

We as humans love grand gestures. We love the idea of someone taking the time to make a big deal about us. To plan everything out and coordinate it all in a way that seems impossible. Even if we say we don’t, we love when someone makes a big deal about their care and love for us.

While these are fun to read about and watch on our news feed , and talk about at work, I wonder if we’re missing something. I wonder if the truest love is really shown this way, or if it’s quietly waiting for us to notice it somewhere else?

My day to day routine at the clinic is to get patients ready to see the orthopedic surgeon. I help the doctor with whatever else they may need, but my primary focus are the people coming in. Most of whom are in need of knee or hip surgery due to the wear and tear of getting older.

This also means that many of our patients are living in a health facility – either permanently or temporarily. These are also our older patients, as you may have guessed. They are normally wheelchair bound and have various health conditions outside of their failing joints.

We had a gentleman come in this week who had hurt both his knee and his ankle. He was unable to put any pressure on that leg to the point of being unable to even adjust himself in his wheelchair. He sat there in an awkward position, not speaking much above a mumble. The look on his face can only be described as pained and defeated. I worked to encourage him and his daughter that we would do all we could to help him.

He spent 3 hours in our clinic.

Between x-rays, scheduling surgery, and getting his insurance straightened out, it was also discovered that he had developed pressure sores on the back of his heels during his time at the health facility. He will not be able to have surgery on his knee until these are healed to limit the risk of infection.

Before we sent him home, I was asked to help wrap his feet with fresh bandages. As I slid on my gloves, I looked at his foot with the worst sore. It was difficult not to flinch.

His skin was so dry it was to the point of flaking off in large pieces. His foot was a deep red and purple that screamed inflammation and swelling. It continued up his ankle into his lower leg. His toenails hadn’t been cut or cared for in weeks. His sore was bright red and raw, though now it gleamed from its cleaning.

My heart broke as he grimaced and grunted in pain while we wrapped his foot with bandages and gauze. Moving his leg to complete the process caused him to yelp. I felt helpless. Is this really all we could do for now?

When the doctor left, I searched for an ace wrap to protect the clean, white bandages and new socks to send with him. As I kneeled in front of him to wrap the ace bandage around his foot and ankle, I began asking him questions about himself. It only took three to get him going.

It was as though a switch had been flipped, and an old bulb came to life. Buzzing and bright, he told me about past memories that made him chuckle even still. I smiled as I listened, and was careful not to cause more pain as I gently placed his foot on the footrest of the wheelchair.

It was then that it struck me.

“This is holy work.”

“Here on my knees, cold tile biting my skin through scrubs, dead skin all over the floor, and a stranger telling me about his life, is a sacred space.”

“The Lord is here in this room and I can feel Him kneeling with me. I wonder if this man can feel Him, too?“

I think of Jesus. I think about His last night before His death. There was no fanfare or big party. He didn’t go to the nicest place in town and order the best meal they had to offer. He didn’t do all of the things He wanted to do before He died – like we all say we would.

The night that selfishness would have been justified, He chose service instead. He did not think of Himself, but of those He loved the most.

He knelt before those sinful disciples and washed their dirty feet before His blood washed their dirty souls.

Grand gestures had no room in that moment. Instead, love quietly poured water over dirt on dry skin and scrubbed it away.

The next day, it poured blood over sin soaked souls and scrubbed it away, too.

Grand gestures are great, but quiet love is a glimpse of the Divine.