A New Heart

I went to see my friend Morley yesterday.


Visitors have to put on a gown and gloves right now as he is recovering from one of those infamous hospital superbugs; and as luck would have it, just as I was gowning up, the aide came by with his dinner. "Would you give this to Mr. Morley?" she asked. "Then I wouldn't have to put on the gown and gloves ..."


You can imagine my delight! The poor little aide wondered why I burst out laughing. I was able to walk in with his tray and say, "Morley, do what you like; you can't get away from my being your waitress ..."


The doctors and surgeons have done a marvellous job. There he sat, resplendent with new glasses he had received on Friday; a crisp new haircut; and a familiar face meticulously recreated, the work of a master's hands.


His wonderful brother-in-law, Donna's brother Darryl, was there when I arrived and in the few minutes remaining of his visit the three of us chatted easily and joyfully.


Then when he left, Morley and I settled in for one of our Catching Up conversations.


He showed me his left arm, the forearm of which has a long seam evenly stitched. "My arm was broken," he explained.


He briefly ran down the list of his injuries, noting that there was no brain damage, no spinal cord damage. "It was miraculous," he said quietly. He has to speak quietly right now as his throat heals.


But what he mainly wanted to talk about was two people: Donna, and God.


"Sometimes I look into those beautiful, serene eyes and I think, 'What did I ever do to deserve a love like this?' " he marvelled. "The first time I met her, I was immediately drawn to her. And she's still here. I can't comprehend a love like hers."


And this:


"I'm stubborn, closed, ungrateful. God had to do something drastic to get my attention. He had to bring me to the end of myself." And with that he never mentioned his prodigious injuries again; instead he focused on the goodness and grace of God.


Morley is grateful for everything - that he can taste the cup of vanilla ice cream on his tray, that he can sip the vegetable broth, that he could have his feet over the side of the bed for a short period for the first time. "I had my first shower on Saturday," he said, a little smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. "That shower was so sweet ..."


He knows the road ahead is going to be difficult - he is going to be moved to a rehab hospital within the next few days. There will be days fraught with pain, and much relearning to do, times when he might want to give up. "But God didn't give up on me, so I won't give up," he avowed. "Besides which, it's external. No organs were touched."


"I think you're wrong, Morley, I said. "You're heart's been touched by this accident."


His eyes lit up and he put his right hand over his heart. "Actually, you're right. I have a new heart in me. And God has put it there."


It was time for me to leave; but first I asked him if I could do an update on his story for RtL and maybe take his picture. "Oh yes," he said. "Just be sure to tell them that God is good."


We prayed together, his cold hand clasping my latex-covered one. And the room was holy ground.


As I left I dropped a kiss on his forehead - a "blessing kiss," my Nana O'Halloran used to say. 


I'm not sure if his new forehead could feel it, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that his new heart did.