My partner and I drove to D.C. to support my brother in moving through knee replacement surgery. Alex lives alone in a tiny 3rd floor walk-up, with 28 steep and narrow steps. No question about going home right after surgery. I drive a tiny Fiat. Could he bend his post-surgical leg enough to get in (and out)? How would he get to rehab? This was not the hospital’s responsibility.
In an act of kindness, late Sunday afternoon, the young case worker contacted Humble Non- Emergency Transportation. (I wondered at the non-macho name.) Two young workers arrived with a wheelchair; recent immigrants, English was their 3rd or 4th language. With gentleness and kindness, they helped him into their spacious van.
We met them in Alex’s room at the rehab; in the chaos of shift change, on Sunday night. Several hours later, searching for ice, I ran into them down the hall: “You’re still here!” The sweetness of the young man’s smile still touches my heart: He was waiting patiently, to make sure Alex was safely checked in and not in harm’s way. Knowing what it’s like to be new, vulnerable. They were doing what they could, humbly. So may we all. Amen.
Rev. Mary
