Life Interrupted

Bob just called. His nurse was just at his house and found an infection on his leg where it meets his shoe. He must go to the doctor. His regular doctor isn’t in, so she has left instructions that he go to a service which will take anyone. Infections are serious business for Bob. Cellulitis has landed him in the hospital on at least four occasions in the last five years. But Bob, who lives alone, can’t get to the doctor by himself. He had a devastating stroke in 1995. His right side is paralyzed. And he is cursed with aphasia and aproxia. He can’t always think of the right word to say and when he thinks of it, he can’t always pronounce it. That’s why he calls me. I’m his brother. He can count on me to do the right thing. I remember the words he can’t say. And I remember his history. And if I am around, as I usually am, I will be there as quickly as I can. Bob needs to go to the doctor today. The time to act is now.
Life interrupted.
My wife and I had just finished our morning walk, and planned the day. She planned getting ready for a meeting tonight and a get together for the weekend. I to clean up the details of a neighborhood watch project and my birthday party. Audrey is often involved in Bob projects, too. She goes over to find out how bad it is, while I shave and shower for the day. This day will now involve hours at the doctor’s office and likely a trip to the hospital. I don’t mind. Bob is my brother.
I'm the one on the left. Bob is on the right. This picture was taken Easter 1937 the year our mother died at the tender age of 27. I was two, Bob three and a half. We're holding Easter baskets, bundled up against the Minnesota chill. Those days, Dad hung out at Otto and Olga's farm. I love the details in the picture like the torn screen and the gloves we're wearing.. More tragedy will strike in November when Otto is killed in a farming accident. That brought Olga and her daughters to live with us in Redwood Falls, --a temporary arrangement that lasted about 40 years.
Life has been less good to Bob than to me. His wife died after only six years of marriage at a young age of 49.
Bob raised a son by himself, then the year he retired, he had a stroke, leaving his right side paralyzed.
In the Garden of Eden, when God inquires of Cain what happened to his brother, Abel, whom he murdered, Cain says "Am I my brother's keeper?"
To others, it may seem that Bob needs keeping. Like today. Bob gets and infection and he calls me to help him.
Martin Luther, commenting on Cain's question, said, "I am not my brother's keeper. But I am my brother's Christ." That's my goal. Not to be Bob's keeper, but to be his Christ. The guy sitting next to me on that Easter so many years ago would do the same for me. If I can manage that, I will be satisfied.