The Prodding of the Heart

Sometimes we get a prodding of the heart to do something for another. It is as if the heart quietly addresses us, with a wordless appeal to “do something.” If we listen to the heart’s gentle prompting and act, more often than not, we will be thankful we did, and pleased we made even a little difference in the life of another.

On the other hand, if we do not act on the heart’s soundless prodding, the opportunity to act will rapidly pass and the deed we could and maybe should have done will remain undone. Perhaps it will make little difference to the other that we did not do what we felt prompted to do; yet perhaps our neglecting to act will have more significant consequences than we want to know.

I tell people to do what they do for the long-haul. So when they look back over their behavior in this or that situation, they will feel glad they did what they did, rather than guilty they did not do what they really knew they could and should have done.

I had a personal instance of this prodding of the heart recently. I was at a care center visiting a new resident, when I happened to notice her walker. It didn’t look quite right. It was tilted forward instead of backward, and appeared somewhat short for this tall woman. So I asked her how she liked her walker. I am sure that if I not asked her directly, she would never have complained, she would never have troubled me with her trouble.

She said, “Well, now that you mention it, it is too short for me, and uncomfortable to use.”

“Does it throw you forward?” I asked.

“Come to think of it, it sure does,” she answered.

I asked her if it were her walker. She said, “I came here with my own, but I walked off and left it somewhere. It has not shown up, so the center gave me this one.”

I tried it out. I sure would not want to have to depend on it.

Came my heart’s prodding; and I acted on it. I told the woman I would be right back. I went to the first nurse I saw and told her the situation. She said that she would talk to the physical therapy department and that she was sure they would get right on it.

Within a few minutes, a physical therapist came into the room. She examined the walker and agreed that it was not right. A kind woman working for a good care center, one which would not want any of its residents to be using defective equipment, she said that she would fetch another walker.

About ten minutes later, she returned with a better walker—with the resident’s name tag already put around it. The woman I was visiting stood up and tried it and laughed in gleeful approval.

The sight of her standing straighter on that sturdy, right-fitting walker made my day. I thought of how often she would use it, going to and from meals and activities, and my heart rewarded me for listening and responding affirmatively to its prodding with an in filling of that tender joy which comes from doing a little something for another. Maybe that is what daily life is meant to be all about: doing little things with love for others. Love after all, is composed of little things, like walkers.