Who knows the heart of the caregiver,
But those in need?
Who knows of the sacrifice
Made by gentle giving spirits,
Who at times abide in broken bodies?

We are not born to care for others,
Rather, we learn along the way,
What joys there are
In service to your fellow man.

Caregivers are at risk,
From those who would take advantage,
But they wouldn't even know,
And rarely see it coming,
For their focus is always on
What they can do for others.

Let me lessen your pain,
And bring whatever comfort I can provide.
Let me be your friend,
To hear the laments of your soul,
When no other is around to listen.

I haven't known you long,
But I know you better than most others.
I hear of the brightest days,
And I see their reflection in your eyes.
I know of your regrets,
And I know that your opportunities are at an end.

My reward is to share with you,
These very special days.
There are no secrets,
For there is no longer a reason to keep them.

Let me tell you of your importance,
As you prepare to cross the veil,
For it is you who have shaped me,
And taught me the essence of the love of God,
That to give of all that you have,
And to love others more than yourself,
Warms the soul beyond measure.

Yes, it is you who insures,
That the love of the caregiver
Goes on,
And on, to help another,
As there is no greater reward.

And so we see them,
Often in the windy cold of twilight,
As their day is done,
Worn and tired, but fulfilled.

Silently she moves
To the bus that will carry her home.
It is a small apartment,
In the poor section of town,
But it is warm,
And filled with the love of a thousand lives,
That she has touched,
And helped to find their way home.

For Miss Woody
September 2, 2004