I believe in caring. This feeling, emotion, and attitude takes little time and effort to express. As a nurse I will be willing to share this with who ever will accept it and also to the ones who do not think they need it. During day to day nursing, there will be many opportunities to help a person go through bad times or rejoice in good news. There will be opportunities to bring a caring attitude to a home, a shelter, or a different country. I will be able to reach beyond arms length to let people know I care.
I have always cared what happened to people, but what it can mean to someone really hit home one Sunday morning at church when the pastor’s wife, Ruth, passed my husband and me a sheet of paper. I opened it and it was a thank you letter. This is what it said: “We here at Chester Baptist Church want you to know how much we appreciate your giving your son to serve in the military to protect our freedom and way of life. We know it is hard to have him so far away from you, often not knowing how he is, or where he is. Be assured that both you and your son are in our thoughts and prayers. Thank you again for your contribution to freedom!” I silently cry now as I did then when I read the note. All the people, young and old, had signed it.
Everyone needs to know that someone cares what is happening to them. Caring doesn’t cost anything. It is free to give and if you’re fortunate, to receive. I suppose a person doesn’t have to do either, but what would that say about them? How could one possibly live their entire life without it? A kind word or a touch on the shoulder, are simple ways to improve on a person’s day. My husband and I, on occasion, will leave a note for each other when we leave the house so the other will see it when they come home. Some times, the note is left on the kitchen counter, on a pillow, or attached to a mirror. This may not seem like much but it is knowing that someone cares enough to take a moment to scribble a few words. I send little trinkets, pencils, paper, and pictures to a young girl named Marta in Mozambique. We share letters about our lives, many miles apart. I care that she has a home and goes to school and likes Math. The day my sister lost her son, I did not have to do or say anything for her to know that I cared, other then be there when she needed to talk or cry or just sit in silence. Caring doesn’t take effort, only a few moments of our day.
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