THE MAJOR

Even if you hadn’t told him, here he’d come.  Hat under one arm and his well-worn Bible in his hand, the ribbon streamer bookmarks dancing as he jauntily stepped into the surgical suite.  His timing was impeccable.  I could never figure out exactly how he did it, but every time I was in that anxiety ridden few minutes before they made me lie down and wheeled me into the surgical suite for yet another procedure, here he came. 
    

The first time it happened, I was a more than a little self-conscious, after all, those flimsy hospital gowns are not exactly the most modest attire.  But it was obvious he wasn’t there for a fashion show.  He greeted my husband and me, read scripture, prayed with us and left the same way he came in, ribbon book marks peeking around his arm as he jauntily stepped down the hall, but leaving in his place a sense of security and peace that carried me through the rest of the ordeal.

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