by name

The hospitals sometimes make it hard to track a person down.

Not deliberately, of course. I don't think.

It's just that there are times when it seems to take an age to find out where a person is. I had that problem today again.

I was looking for Sheila. Sheila's always been so good to me since ever we were here. And now I'd learned that she'd been taken into hospital a day or so ago. I wanted to see how she was.

The easy way is to telephone the family. Which I did. But they were out. Maybe at the hospital, I thought.

So I simply rang the hospital. The girl who answered the phone, she recognised me at once. She used to work at the local school. So we had a bit of a chat about that, which was really good.

But it didn't help me find where Sheila was.

It was complicated by the fact that her surname is one of those that can be spelled in a whole different number of ways. With or without the 't'. With or without the 'e'. And any combination thereof.

But even when I told her how the surname should be spelled, that didn't help. Giving her address didn't seem to help much more.

Did I have the date of birth? I began to think that maybe new security regulations would require of me the knowledge of some PIN. But, undeterred, I pressed on with what more and more was looking like a vain pursuit.

Yes, I could give her the date of birth.

Another trawl through all their computer records.

When did she come in to the hospital. Yesterday.

Do you know what was wrong with her? I had a vague idea from what I had been told. I wondered if I'd have been best to get a medical degree before I started enquiring.

No, they couldn't find her at all. Which was odd, since I knew she was there.

It was becoming a bit like a game of hide and seek.

And then she suggested another name. Not 'Sheila' at all. Try it, I said.

And sure enough, this different name ticked all the other boxes we'd explored. Street and number, date of birth. Everything.

It felt like I'd reached the top of Everest when finally I found her in a bed in the Admissions Unit.

But I was glad I'd gone in. It was good to have time with her there. I think it brightened her day and eased what fears she may have had. And it was good to pray as well.

She was in a bay of four. I like to try and speak with the others there when I'm visiting someone in hospital like that. So I went and spoke with the other lady there (one of the beds was empty and the other one had visitors). She'd heard me pray and was grateful for that.

It turned out she's a member of Charlotte Chapel, the Baptist Church at whose Ladies' Meeting I was speaking last week. So it was good to be able to speak with her, then pray with her as well.

I prayed for her as 'Barbara'. Because that's what the note above her bed declared.

But I did begin to wonder, when I prayed for her as such, if that was in fact her name.

Or if, like Sheila, her 'hospital' name is not in fact the name she's ever really called by anyone.

She didn't seem to notice if that was the case. She was simply glad of the prayer. And glad that she is known by God by name.

That's why I like to speak with folk like that. Folk I've never met before, but there they are in hospital. I like to let them know that they are noticed by the Lord.

And I like to use their name because his love for us, each one of us, is always just so personal. He knows us all by name. All the smallest details of our hearts and lives are known to him.

Far, far beyond the bits of information I was being asked. He knows it all.

He alone can really, fully know us, each and every one. by name.