Room 108

Today I prayed for a man who was dying.  Tom has bone cancer.  He has had bone cancer since 1999.  I went to visit Tom after he attended a few Sunday services at my church.  Tom is living in a nursing home/hospice center and that's where I went this afternoon, to room 108.

I have been on a handful of hospital visits since I volunteered for the hospital ministry at my church.  I was pretty nervous at first, the first patient I visited could hardly speak and so I stood there in his room for what seemed an eternity, not being able to communicate with him, and quietly prayed.  When I had finished praying I almost literally ran back to my car.  The more visits I have made the more I have become comfortable with the whole thing, visiting strangers in the hospital, and now I actually look forward to making the visits.  I visited a man last week that had an issue where he was losing blood and the doctors didn't know why or where it was coming from.  I received word that the day after I went and prayed with him the bleeding had stopped and he had been healed.

Driving to visit Tom was nothing special, in other words there were no extraordinary feelings of fear or faith or nervousness or anything along those lines. I wasn't nervous to go see this man I'd never met before who was dying of bone cancer.  I parked my car outside and walked into the nursing home.  There was no one in the lobby to meet me, no nurse at a guest window waiting to give me directions, so I found room 108 on my own.  It wasn't challenging, finding room 108, it was only 40 steps from the front door, not like some of the bigger hospitals where you need a GPS to find your way around the hallways. 

I knocked on the door and Tom invited me inside his room.  I introduced myself and we began exchanging pleasantries when Toms phone rang. 

He looked at the caller ID and said, "I'm sorry but I need to take this."

"Would you like me to step outside?"  I replied.

"No, no.  This will only be a minute.  You stay here."

He answered the phone call and I began sifting through my bible to find a scripture I wanted to share with him.  The phone call continued and I sat there in his chair, awkwardly searching through my phone to look like I wasn't paying any attention to the conversation.  The phone call Tom received was from his attorney asking Tom to clarify where his estate and belongings would be distributed once he'd died.

I sat there, nervous, feeling like I shouldn't be in the room while he took the call.  I stood up after a few minutes and stepped into the hallway closing the door behind me.  Unfortunately I could still hear the conversation inside room 108.

Tom was detailing whom his possessions would go to after he had passed away.  He had to give names, addresses, social security numbers, and contingency plans in case the people listed had died before they received their inheritance.

After the conversation ended Tom came to the door and invited me back inside.  I asked him some of the details of the sickness and he explained them as best he could.  He fought back tears and his voice grew weak and sad when he explained some of the things he'd done wrong years ago that lead him to room 108.

I did my best to encourage him; I did not let any doubt or weakness into my thoughts, my voice, or my words as I spoke with him about God's grace and mercy and about God's willingness and ability to heal Tom.  I stood up and took Tom's hand and began to pray with him.  I haven't felt such amounts of faith in my prayers for anyone since the last time I prayed for a man dying of cancer when I was 16 and on a mission’s trip in Brazil.

I finished praying and Tom prayed for me, the exact same scenario as the last man I prayed with in Brazil all those years ago.  I gave Tom a hug and told him I loved him.  I wrote down a phone number where he could contact me if he needed anything and assured him to call if I could help in any way.

I walked out the sliding glass doors and into the parking lot of the nursing home.  The sun was beginning to set in front of me and the temperature was a soothing 71 degrees.  I got in my car, started the engine, rolled down my window and stared in front of me at a field with tall grass growing.  I didn't want to leave the parking lot.  I sat there and I cried.  All I knew was that I was sad, sad because of what I had just experienced.  Not sad because I didn't think my prayers would be answered, just sad.  And so I drove home listening to a worship CD and crying until I reached my driveway.

I don't know the point of this experience.  I don't know if there was some lesson I am supposed to learn from all this.  What I do know is that God is good and His love endures forever.