Hello rain.

*written with permission of individuals mentioned

It's raining today

It's raining today

Hello rain, hello rain. . .

I want to go outside and play

I want to go outside

Hello rain, hello rain. . .

Raindrops fall

Raindrops falling down

Everywhere

All around

from "Hello Rain"

(a great song by Marcia Berman that I sang with Isaiah at the bus stop this morning)

_____________________________________________________________________

Today it was pouring down rain in Atlanta all day long. The sky was this confluent shade of murky gray and the relentless downpour came in the kind of sheets that renders even the best umbrellas useless.

Bleccch.

This was definitely not a day that makes folks who rely upon public transportation or parking meters clamor to come to the hospital. Who can blame them? I didn't exactly want to be at work today either.


That is until I saw one of best things ever. . . . .

I saw this lovely Grady elder who was well into her nineties. . . .accompanied by her daughter who was well into her seventies. . . .and her granddaughter who was well into her forties. All wedged into a tiny clinic room together.

In the waiting room was. . . .her great-granddaughter who was in her twenties. . . .holding her child. . .the patient's great-great-granddaughter. All at Grady together on a torrential Monday just for Mother's appointment.

Wow.

"Did ya'll have special plans today?" I asked, "Is that why everyone is here?"

"Nope," replied Daughter with a smile and a shrug. "We just here with Mother."

"Yep," said Granddaughter and winked at Mother sitting over to the side in her wheelchair.

Mother simply beamed while they looked at her--almost child-like. I can't recall the last time I saw anyone look at another human being so lovingly. The love in that room was . . . . inexplicable.

I studied Mother carefully. She was bundled up in layers; someone had obviously put great care into making sure she didn't get soaked. Her snowy hair was in a network of neatly connected plaits and her weathered hands rest quietly on her bony legs. She gazed back at her doting descendants, her once brown eyes appeared almost blue from the cholesterol haze outlining each aging iris.

Aaaah, but my how they still sparkled.

"You okay, Mother?" Grandaughter queried while adjusting the jacket that sat on her grandmother's shoulders. Daughter immediately joined in and began fussing over something else that didn't need fussing over.

Mother smiled and spread her trembling hands out toward each of them. Both women quickly clasped them into their own. She looked from side to side at both of her "girls" proudly and then shook her head.

"Sometimes I say, 'Lawd, I sho' musta done somethin' right,'" she finally spoke, tightening her grip around their hands.

I looked at them all huddled there together and immediately felt like crying. . . . .

Instead I asked them if I could take a picture of their hands to remember them and this moment.

(Generational Blessings: Photo taken today and shared with permission of Mother, Daughter and Granddaughter)

Sigh.


This picture embodies everything that I love about working in this public hospital. I get the privilege of meeting people like this every day. Caring for an indigent patient population has its challenges, yes. But the moments like these far outweigh the frustrating ones. No question--we see poverty and we see some really unfortunate pathology as a result. . . . .oh, but the love we see. Money can't buy anything better.

Sometimes when I'm at Grady, I think the same thing as Mother:

I must've done something right.

image credit

I'm so glad I came to work today.

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