2/12/2025
When I was 14, my mom made me volunteer all summer at the hospital. Most kids volunteered 1 day/week. We couldn't afford summer camp or family vacations and she worked all week. I was too young for a job. She signed me up to volunteer at the hospital 5 days/week all day. All summer long.
I delivered flowers and cards to patients. I sat with patients in the cancer center and kept them company while they were getting chemo. I helped people sit up to eat, and I took family members from the lobby to patient rooms and back again.
It was the summer between middle school and high school for me. I was overweight, lacked self-confidence, didn't play sports, read a lot of books, and spent a lot of time in my room by myself drawing, reading, listening to music, and dreaming.
I came home crying every day about the patients I saw. Every single day broke my heart. I will always remember what my mom said to me one day after being a little annoyed with me for crying again. She said, "Kim, this experience is so good for you. You have always had such a tender heart and one day, the world will harden it, and you won't be so sensitive anymore."
I went to nursing school and the world didn't harden my heart. As a new RN, I remember going into the rooms of my pediatric patients in the middle of the night and picking up the babies that were awake. Many of them wouldn't have parents with them because they had to work the next day, or they couldn't get a ride to the hospital. Or, they had more children at home. Regardless, I would go in and pick them up and sing to them in their rooms.
I still cry at the thought of the first pediatric patient I lost. When I came back to work and heard he had passed away after he had been getting chemo for months for osteosarcoma. When I would take him a popsicle for his mouth sores from the chemo and radiation, I remember he looked at me and told me I was an angel. It still wrecks me.
I remember the first patient we couldn't save in the Children's ED who came in unresponsive after choking at home on a hotdog. I will never forget him. Or his mama.
I cry for strangers. At sappy songs, when I hear people talk about someone they love, or hear them talk unfiltered and honestly about what is hard for them, the circumstances they have overcome.
I went into 9th grade and started high school a slimmer version of myself, with confidence that was somehow different than the kind my peers had. Still a nerd. Still introverted. Still not athletic. Timid. Hopeful. Looking around and seeing others. Smiling. Accepting. Driven.
Looking back on that summer, and that specific conversation with my mama, I'd say it was a pretty life-altering experience for me. I saw the power of my squishy heart. The power of sitting with someone in the most scary moments of their lives, just being present. I delivered the cards and saw the impact of such a small and seemingly insignificant thing for a patient alone, in an empty room. I saw their eyes light up when I brought the flowers in and read the card so they wouldn't have to squint.
It's difficult to have such a squishy heart. People take advantage of people with squishy hearts. But, at 41, I don't know any other way to be. I don't have any control over my squishy heart and the connection it has to the water in my eyes.
I'm happiest when I can do the giving, the serving, the helping, connecting, the seeing and being present. And, my writing always seems to carry me to a prayer.
Dear God, when you send me someone this time, could you just please send them with a squishy heart that the world never hardened? Could you send me a man that's strong enough and confident enough to show it? Someone who values the little things? Presence? Words? Handmade cards? Someone who sees me and has been hoping and praying you made a woman with a squishy heart too? There's a lot of darkness, sadness, sickness, trouble, doubt, and fear in this world. I pray for someone who doesn't want wealth and riches. I pray for a man with a squishy heart that leads him with purpose, passion, and is restless and stirring to get busy helping. Then, I pray that you send US. Until then, I will continue to show up, to seek others in ordinary moments that need a little light. And, I pray, having faith that you are going before me and lining all the things, moments, people, places, and circumstances up just as they should be. You know who needs my squishy heart the most. Meanwhile, I will look to the left and the right and see who is on my path now. In ordinary places. Needing little tiny extraordinary things. Because the one thing I know, is what it feels like to use a squishy heart. Give me patience. Strengthen my heart but please, keep it squishy so I can see, feel, and be moved by connection, strangers, words, music, and moments. I now know it's a divine gift of mine, this broken and squishy heart. And so, I just want to say thank you. A squishy heart makes a full life and I know the hard times have led me right here. In prayer. On my knees. Looking up. Having faith. Understanding the assignment. It's your move, God.
Amen.
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