Holy Thursday

Mandátum novum do vobis dicit Dóminus, ut diligátis ínvicem, sicut diléxi vos:
"I give you a new commandment: Love one another as I have loved you." (John 13:34)

"Are you family?"
"No. I am her hospice volunteer." In one quick motion I pick up the ID around my neck and let it fall against my chest.
"Ok. Let me know if you need anything." The aide steps backward through the curtain.

I can't take my eyes off of Helen's face. Her head is back, mouth agape and eyes wide with fear.
"Helen," I am practically shouting. "Its Amy. From Hospice. I am going to stay with you for a while."
No response.
I move to her bedside and brush the hair off of her forehead. She looks tiny and broken, almost half the size she was three days ago when I visited. They all look this way right before death, as if the human form is too cumbersome and awkward.
Now she moves her eyes to my face, and I still can't get over the fear that fills them. "Don't be afraid of this," I whisper close to her cheek.
She sighs and licks her lips. I swab her mouth with water before grabbing and kissing her knobby hand.

At once all momentum is suspended as I realize that I am exactly where I should be.

Many Holy Thursdays ago I attended mass where the priest washed the feet of parishioners. This display of humility was such a blow to the way I was living. In an instant I knew that leading a life without service would leave me lost.
The rest is history, and today is devoted to reconnecting with that history.