Knock, knock

I knock on the door and slide into the room.

You look at me from your bed, wondering who I am.

I look at you and smile, hoping to appear calm and friendly.

I explain who I am.

You look wary, but do not tell me to go away.

I ask if I can sit down. ‘How has your day been?’ You tell me.

And from this small beginning a plant begins to grow.

As you talk and I listen, we water the plant.

We never mention ‘God’ – but He is the one who makes the plant to grow.

Bob Whorton
Hospice chaplain