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Sunday, July 14, 2013

A Man's Repentance


                                                              Photo source


Mr. Richardson was praying.  His head bowed, his eyes closed.  It was a quick yet powerful scene as I glanced into Mr. Richardson’s room while walking down the hall.  The room door was wide open, as it was always his preference.  He cared less if people would see him praying, or listening to his gospel music, or watching religious channels on his television.  He kept the door open so anyone was welcome to provide care, or just to visit. 

“I’m devoting my life to the Lord,” Mr. Richardson expressed one day when I was visiting with him in his room.  His voice carried a tone of humbleness and honesty.  “I have made many mistakes in my life.  I can’t change my past, but I’ve deeply repented.  I promised I’d follow His word every single day I have left.”

I was sure the transition to becoming a permanent resident in the nursing home was more challenging to Mr. Richardson than I had anticipated.  I learned that he had lived alone most of his life, after his wife divorced him about thirty years ago.  He said he was a stubborn and private man, difficult to live with.  He traveled all over the United States as part of his job.  He and his family had an estranged relationship, that included two daughters who were teenagers by the time the divorce was finalized. 

“I didn’t lose my family because of my job, or my friends, or my traveling,” Mr. Richardson expressed with saddened words, his shiny blue eyes flooded with tears.  “It was my drinking... I was an alcoholic.” 

For the last four years, Mr. Richardson had quit drinking, with the help of his best friend, Larry, and people from the church he had joined.  His spiritual life became relevant, and an inspiration in his new journey.

Mr. Richardson had moved to another town, closer to Larry, and also to complete medical treatments.  He had recently been diagnosed with lung cancer. 

“I don’t know if I have a month, a few months, or a year to live,” Mr. Richardson said.  “I can’t change the past, and I don’t have much of a plan for the future.  I just live in the present, I go day by day.  This is my home now, and I’m thankful to be here.” 

I did notice Mr. Richardson was adjusting well to the facility environment and the overall routine.  He didn’t appear merely resigned to his current living arrangements.  Mr. Richardson seemed genuinely content, despite his deteriorating health condition. 

Not only his words reflected his repentance, but a gesture I learned later he had pursued evidenced his reflection on life.

Mr. Richardson asked Larry to attempt to locate his daughters, and give them a message. Mr. Richardson wanted them to know how much he regretted being estranged from them for so many years, and he asked for their forgiveness. 

Larry went to Mr. Richardson’s hometown, and although he couldn’t locate his daughters, he was able to connect with other people that seemed fairly optimistic about carrying over the message. 

I never saw anyone visiting Mr. Richardson other than his friend Larry.  I believe Mr. Richardson never heard back from his daughters.  But I was certain he had finally come to terms with what he had done, or left undone.  Mr. Richardson had allowed himself to ask for forgiveness from others, and from the Lord, but equally important, he had found the path to forgive himself. 

“I finally feel at peace,” he said, showing a noble smile.  I observed him as he scrutinized his oxygen tank, and confirmed his tank was full.  He was breathing comfortably.  Mr. Richardson’s lungs seemed well oxygenated at that moment.  As so is his soul, I mused. 


22 comments:

Bica said...

There probably aren't very many fairy tale endings to life, but Mr. Richardson came as close as he could. Thoughtful post, Doris...definitely makes one contemplate.

Terri Tiffany said...

I love your stories. I love most how you care so much. Wish I had worked with you.

Mariette VandenMunckhof-Vedder said...

Dearest Doris,
Lovely story and I guess that would be valid for lots of people in their winter of life.
It is important to forgive and he found PEACE of mind.
Hugs,
Mariette

Anonymous said...

Hi Doris the 14th was not a happy day for me it was the anniversary on my mum passing away so reading this was bitter sweet. Most enjoyable to read and as always tear jerking.

Yvonne.

Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybe said...

We all hope that Mr.Richardson's daughters will receive their dad's message. Forgiveness is difficult and maybe their wounds are deep, but with compassion and time they may learn that through forgiving, comes peace.

Cynthia said...

Lovely story. I love the fact that he finally accepted peace and The Lord. Love your stories, Doris.

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

I'm glad he's at peace. I hope his daughters contact him, as much for themselves as for him.

Mariodacatsmom said...

Hi - I find your blog very interesting. In my working days I worked in a school system with social workers and school psychologists. You do lead very interesting lives and are so very very helpful to so many.

Paulletta said...

It is never too late to find peace. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story.

Linda said...

A very touching and beautiful story. Thank you so much for sharing.

D.M. SOLIS said...

What a great job you have done--painting pictures with words to capture so much, the images and the meaningfulness here.

Gratefully,
Diane

John said...

A wonderfully told story. Thank you.

Deb Shucka said...

I've been away from blogging for a bit, and I'm so glad I came back to one of your amazing stories. My heart is lifted every time I read your blog.

Padraic Murray said...

Lovely and lyrical. Simple and moving. Uplifting and inspiring...

A Plain Observer said...

often times it takes something drastic to make us realize our mistakes. I pray that I'll be wiser and will admit, accept and rectify my mistakes before it's too late.

La Petite Gallery said...

Beautifully written. Hope to get another story soon. Hope you are OK and everything is good for you.
Yvonne

steveroni said...

Doris, I'd forgotten that you blog (well, last July and August--grin!).
Also you do fb, Tweeter (sic), and other stuff. Glad to see you.

This one about Mr Richardson is a story like my own life--well, at least the "drunk" part--and really what other "parts" are there for us alkies?

Thank you for reading/commenting my "Interview" story-post.

I'm taking with me that thought at the end...His lungs are OK...and "so is his soul..." THAT'S boiling it down to the final ten yards, in Fourth Quarter, with 38 seconds remaining....
PEACE and LIGHT, Doris...

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When I was evicted from the family home by my mother, my father rented a small room for me. But my mother and brothers believed that having HIV was my own fault – and that I deserved to be punished...I also considered myself unworthy and without hope... But I have a child and eventually I convinced myself to live for my child’s sake.
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