Then seeing this picture seemed to draw me even closer.
We are surely, sister countries..
Our land mass is almost the same size.
Our soldiers fought together in wars, and we enjoy one another's company.
I have toured almost all of the U.S.A. and have read much of its history.
While working there as a Home Health practitioner, I met many wonderful folk.
Some stood out more than others.
I'm call the woman in my true story, 'Deeply troubled.'
On entering my workplace one Monday morning I was told I had a new patient.
"Now I hope you'll be alright with this Crystal," my boss searched my face as she spoke.
"The lady in question lost her husband a few weeks ago and isn't coping."
"Yes," added my work partner, Jane from across the room. "And I ain't going out there again," she spoke indignantly.
"She pulled a shot gun on me!"
Well this sounded good? I felt like I was being thrown into the lions den.
It was a long drive to her home, way up in the Tennessee mountains.
The house stood alone and lonely in a wide valley.
Getting out of my jeep I took my time gathering my bag and patient folder from the front seat.
A curtain moved in the glass panel of the front door and I knew I was being watched.
Slowly I walked to the porch, calling and talking to the numerous cats taking flight, or sitting watching me in huge eyed silence.
It seemed a long walk up those steps, across the planked timber floor, to knock at that door.
My patient warily opened it, and after I told her who I was, she invited me reluctantly inside.
A small radio, sitting on her kitchen bench was playing a beautiful old hymn.
As I placed my things onto her table I remarked, "Don't you just love that song," and began to sing along with the words..
I had gained her trust.
After concluding my assessment, I asked her if there was anything she would like to ask or tell me.
She began to cry and talk about her husbands passing.
"He never told me he loved me, you know." her head bowed.
"He was always hateful to me. For the first years of our marriage, he'd take off for weeks without telling me he was going, or when he'd be back... I was left with no money, not a word."
I sat and listened in silence, moving closer to take her hand.
"He'd been sick with diabetes the last few years, and lost both of his legs. Yet he could chase me around the house in his wheel chair and hit me with his stick.
I don't know why I stayed? He never loved me," she repeated mournfully again.
It was my turn...and this poor tortured woman deserved some peace.
"He did love you you know, and that's why he stayed!
When he got sick and could no longer do for himself, he had you.
Yet pride stood in his way.
He grieved his loss and he piled all the pain he felt onto you.
Yes, he loved you, but instead of telling you that, he hit out at you in anger, about his life."
We sat quietly for a time, by now I was holding both of her hands in mine.
"Did you, ever tell him you loved him?" I asked quietly.
She shook her head, "No!"
"Well then," I told her gently, "it seems like neither of you could say the words...
So for him, I am going to tell you right now.
Deeply troubled, you were always my hearts desire.
You are the only mother of my children.
I am so sorry for my pride and for hurting you.
I love you and I ask for your forgiveness."
"I love you too".: she murmured.
I prayed with her and as I left she asked me when I'd be back.
Every week she watched for my return.
With her door open, she eagerly waited.
"Help carry each other's burdens.
In this way you will follow Christ's teachings."Galatians 6:2