How Good It Is

My husband woke in a panic—he could hardly breathe. He was having a severe flare with his COPD, and was gasping for air. I quickly adjusted his oxygen machine levels, and guided him through his anxiety. “Breathing in, breathing out,” I said gently, over and over.

I looked at the clock. I was now running late for my job as a therapeutic musician at a nursing home. God, I prayed, I need some help. My husband’s breathing began to regulate, as it usually does, and he drifted off to sleep.

Later, as I pulled into the parking lot at the nursing home 20 minutes late, I felt anxious. Would they understand the reason for my tardiness? Was it possible my job could be in jeopardy? With a lump in my throat, I entered the activity room.

The residents were lined up to meet me in their wheelchairs, all with smiling faces. “Hineh ma tov,” they sang joyfully in Hebrew. Relieved, I laughed and sang along, “Shevet achim gam ya-chad,” (how good it is for brothers and sisters to sit together). My anxiety melted away. Even my fears about my husband faded into the background. I, the helper, was being cared for and nurtured by the ones I had come to help!