This wonderful story was told to me by a friend who asked to remain anonymous:
It was late in the afternoon, the day after Christmas. Anne, my wife, and I – members of the rescue squad – had been running calls since early Christmas Day. That was our gift to the rest of the crew: stay home with your families, we’ll run the calls. We could thus spend Christmas together, doing what we love to do.
The call came in “Subject unresponsive”, possible Code Blue. We rushed to the scene, mentally reviewing all the resuscitative protocols: airway, breathing and circulation, the basics of what we’d been taught when we first began life-saving fifteen years ago for me. The training had been drilled into our heads ever since.
We arrived to find an elderly woman sitting up in a chair, unresponsive, gasping for air. Her pulse was thready and weak. It didn’t look good for her. There was a nurse at her side from the local hospice. The nurse had the proper paperwork called a DNR [Do Not Resuscitate], and yet the family seemed to cry out, `Do Something!’
The scene was all too familiar to us. Less than three years ago, we had experienced it. Anne sat at her mother’s bedside as she died. Therefore, when I sensed this might be too much for her, I took charge of the call. I examined the patient, but there wasn’t much to do; it was her time. The family agreed we needed to take her.
Quickly but gently, we moved her to the cot and into the ambulance. Then we were off; no lights, no siren, just a quick, quiet ride to the hospital, and someone else would be responsible.
Then, just as our trip began, the woman’s heart rate began to slow.
I’ve watched people die before. Yet, this was different. As I had been led by my wife to a new and deeper relationship with Jesus Christ, I wondered, what would He do? I prayed for an answer. Then I reached out and took the woman’s hand and started to sing to her. First I sang `Amazing Grace’, and then as her heart slowed almost to a stop, I sang `When the Saints Go Marching In.’ Then it was over and she was gone.
That was his story; this is mine…
I have known and admired for many years the man who told me this story. Let me tell you something that happened between he and I which I do not understand; perhaps you will. Maybe a year ago, I listened to him in conversation and realized how deep and rich his speaking voice is. I asked him if he sang. He began to laugh uncontrollably. Evidently, singing is not one of his strong points. So… why did it occur to him to sing for this woman as she died? The thing he does least well, was the thing he was moved to do; to give this dying woman as his gift to her?
We are such weak and wonderful beings. Our humanity compels us to solve problems made impossible to solve by our humanity. We seek to solve problems far beyond our competence. That is our nobility. In such a prayer as he raised, this man volunteered, volunteered to be a conduit for whatever must be done. What joy such prayers must bring to the face of Heaven!
Regarding his song to her, this equally unanswerable question: what did the dying woman hear? A friendly voice? Her father’s voice? Her Father’s voice? We can’t say. But certainly, an angel’s voice, a man who cannot sing… singing.
by Lucky Garvin
