A band-aide for your hemorrhage, sir?

A band-aide for your hemorrhage, sir? 

I see the perfuse bleeding—sure would love to help.

Can I pray for you?

Say what? Prayers aren’t enough? Why?

Oh, you’re on the brink? Of what?

What does that even mean?

Impending doom…imminent disaster, you say?

What then?  What can I do to help?

It’s too late at this point? Why would you say that?

It’s never too late.

I’m here for you. 

You’ve heard that before? But I mean it!

What cares?  I do!

What does it matter? A lot!

I want to be a listening ear.

A shoulder to cry on.

A life to lean on.

A heart to rely on.

I’d be in over my head? Overwhelmed with it all?

Try me.  This isn’t my first rodeo.

You appreciate the kind gesture?

This isn’t a gesture; it’s an outstretched hand.

A heart that hears and sees you.

Your story means something to me; the whole thing.

You’ve heard that before? From who?

People who have promised more than they could ever deliver?

People who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into?

People who thought it could be an quick fix?

But I’m not other people.

Or am I.

Am I hoping a promise of prayer will lift your spirit?

Am I banking on a small handout to do the trick?

Am I hoping a caring heart and listening ear will assuage the onslaught?

Am I thinking it’s just temporary drama that will pass with a night’s sleep?

Am I offering help that I hope they will forget I offered as life carries on?

Am I a passing conversation of concern in a long line of do-gooders?

Am I willing to stay in it after there’s nothing in it for me…when it no longer makes me feel good?

Am I offering help with contingencies, or worse, expectations of an ROI?

Am I more like ‘other people’ than I even know?

Is the extra mile only just a mile?  What if it’s two?

What then?

“A band-aide for your hemorrhage, bro?”