He was in his 70’s and overwhelmed with the long battle he’d been fighting against the disease that racked his body. The medication was no longer touching the pain, and he was exhausted from the fight. Tonight he laid here, on my unit, one of my patients. Nothing made him comfortable, and finally I just stood by his bed and listened.

He grasped tightly, and then leaned back onto his pillow in silence. We stayed like that for a while, neither of us saying a word, tears flowing down our cheeks. Then his grip relaxed and his breathing became more restful as he drifted off to sleep. I sat there a while longer and watched him sleep. All I had done was hold his hand. Now I know that Christ used the touch of my hands to comfort him and bring him peace just when he needed it most.