A Gentle Reminder of Humanity

My husband and I were in the ER the other night, sitting quietly together in one of those stark, sterile waiting rooms. The kind with fluorescent lights that never seem to soften, and where time moves either painfully slow or not at all. We were waiting on some test results, surrounded by strangers wrapped up in their own silent worries.

That’s when I noticed an elderly woman being wheeled out by a nurse. Her fragile hands clutched the arms of the wheelchair, her eyes darting around the lobby as if searching for someone—anyone. When she reached the reception desk, I heard her tell the clerk, in a voice that trembled slightly, “I don’t have any family or a ride home.”

My heart sank. It was late. The weather outside was cold and wet. And here was this sweet, elderly lady all alone, with no one to call, nowhere to turn.

What broke my heart even more was watching some—though thankfully not all—of the staff show little more than passing concern. A few offered tight, polite smiles, but then went back to their screens and paperwork. The receptionist mumbled something about maybe calling a cab.

Just when it seemed this woman’s night would end in loneliness, something extraordinary happened.

A man, who had been quietly sitting across the room with his wife, suddenly stood up. He walked over to the elderly lady, bent down a bit to meet her gaze, and spoke to her gently.

“I’d be happy to take you home, ma’am,” he said, smiling warmly.

The woman blinked in surprise, then stammered, “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You don’t even know where I live…”

“That’s alright,” he assured her, with a small chuckle. “It doesn’t matter. I’d still be glad to help.”

She insisted on paying him, fishing around in her purse with shaking hands, but he quickly waved it off, telling her he wouldn’t accept a dime. “It’s just what good neighbors do,” he said.

As he went to pull his truck around, I felt compelled to help in my own small way. I wheeled the lady outside, wrapped her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders, and helped her into the truck when he arrived.

I stood there for a moment in the cold evening air, watching the taillights disappear into the dark. My heart felt a little fuller than it had in weeks.

My only thoughts were:

• There really are still wonderful people in this world.

• This is how we should care for our elders. Like this kind man did.

Before they left, I managed to chat briefly with his wife. I learned his name is Jeffery, and he serves in the military at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. Not only does this man protect and serve our country—he also serves his local community, quietly and without fanfare.

I just wanted to give this remarkable man a little of the recognition and respect he so deeply deserves.

So Jeffery, if by some small chance you ever come across this story: please know that your kindness did not go unnoticed. It touched not just the life of that sweet elderly lady—but ours, too.

Thank you, Sir, for serving our country, and thank you for reminding us what it means to serve humanity.