[Sundaycommunity] (no subject)

[Martha Crean]

That is unbelievably beautiful
Thank you

On Fri, Nov 28, 2025 at 2:21 PM Dean Riley via Sundaycommunity <
sundaycommunity at lists.integralshift.ca> wrote:

> Friday afternoon greetings to all…
>
> I saw this item on Facebook this afternoon and was moved by the story. I
> thought I’d share it you all.
>
> Blessings…
>
> Dean.
>
> -::-::-::-
>
> "My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's
> Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people
> don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
>
> But I see everything.
>
> Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for
> three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat.
>
> Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20
> minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.
>
> One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
> "6:15," he said, confused.
> "Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
> He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
> "I can now," I said.
>
> Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily.
> When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless.
> "Why?"
> "Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here
> stressing."
>
> He cried. Right there in the parking lot.
>
> Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A
> woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in
> hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped
> honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something
> bigger than traffic.
>
> But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed
> at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"
>
> "Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are
> shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."
>
> He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged
> me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."
>
> The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then
> families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days
> bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."
>
> Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in
> Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.
>
> But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived,
> came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the
> reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,
>
> "Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
>
> People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone
> left a hand-knitted blanket.
>
> I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this:
> Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a
> parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one
> small piece."
>
> So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you
> are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.
>
> Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees. It's not
> glamorous. But it's everything."
>
>
> …
> From Facebook:
> Astonishing
> By Mary Nelson________________________________________
>
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>
>
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