You are called to be Heaven’s hands... and Heaven’s voice.
This is happiness...
I was already in my pajamas. In fact I had just plopped down on the couch in the living room, Spiritual Leadership in one hand, and my iPad in the other, waiting for family time.
Then the dispatcher down at the county seat hit a button on her console... The button that gets us moving faster than any other button in the world.
And the pager came alive.
“An ambulance is requested at _____for a s__ty-___ year old female with difficulty breathing...”
So much for the PJs.
Joshua, Natasha and I were out the door by the time she finished repeating the tone.
And driving down the road towards town, I prayed the same prayer that is in our hearts every time we jump into our uniforms and grab our radios.
“...and let us be Your hands to our patient this evening. In Jesus’ name...”
She really was in trouble. Enough trouble that when we got her in the rig, she got three lines of oxygen instead of one. But God knew she needed more than just our medications and a ride to the nearest hospital.
She needed a song.
It was the farthest thing from our minds...
But no matter. He has His ways... And before we were halfway to the hospital, the three of us found ourselves singing O Lord, You’re Beautiful...
And she was leaning back on the cot still wheezing heavily, but with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.
When we finished, the panic was gone. She said she could die in peace... because her angels had sung for her.
I just looked at her.
I promise you, we’re not angels. For one thing, angels sing in tune. We could barely hear each other from the three corners of the back of the ambulance with all the road noise...
But I learned that sometimes all He needs is for us to be willing to lift the lid on protocol for just one second and move our lips so that He can sing...
By the time our charting was done and we left the ER, every staff member there had heard the tale of her angels.
All I could do was shake my head.
And wonder at what we might have missed...
We are called to be Heaven’s hands... and Heaven’s voice.
This is happiness. And an honor entirely undeserved.
An hour later I pulled back through the dark streets of our quiet little town, and up to the white metal building we affectionately call “the barn.”
Thank You, Jesus. Thank You for riding this ambulance today.
“Catron S.O. this is 2*67 on Davenport”
“Catron S.O. on Davenport, Go ahead 2*67”
“Good evening ma’am, we’re back in service.”
“10-4. Thank you. Welcome home sir.”