Intuition matters: Listen to the quiet voice
We all have a wide variety of experiences throughout our lives, some filled with joy and laughter, others with sadness and tears, but only a few are truly life-altering. Recently, I experienced one of those moments, and I know I have been forever changed by it.
My Friday began like any other until I arrived at my local coffee shop and passed one of my dear morning coffee club regulars heading toward the door much earlier than normal. It took only a matter of seconds to realize he was acting peculiarly. He wore a puzzled expression as we crossed paths, and when I asked him what was wrong, he answered in broken sentences, conveying only that he needed to go home. I begged him to allow me to drive him, but he insisted he would be fine.
An uneasy feeling settled over our table of regulars, with concern etched on all our faces. We discussed what we should, or should not, do to make certain he was okay. Eventually, we each went our separate ways, but as the day wore on, my apprehension grew. A hundred scenarios paraded through my mind. What if he wasn’t, okay? What if he needed assistance? What if he just wanted to be left alone to rest?
Finally, my concern overruled my hesitation, and I decided to stop by his house simply to reassure myself he was fine.
My first clue that things were amiss came when I pulled into the driveway and saw his car idling unattended. Next, it took far too long for him to answer the door. Finally, he made his way toward me, dazed, confused, and unsteady on his feet.
After only a few brief questions, it became evident that my friend was not okay and needed emergency assistance. My co-worker was with me, and I calmly asked her to step outside and call for an ambulance. Then it was time to wait.
In situations such as these, minutes feel like hours, and my priority became keeping things as calm as possible. Since he was unsteady on his feet, we sat down on the stairs, and I held onto him from behind.
Then a thought crossed my mind that I will never forget, I want him to know that he is loved, just in case we are the last people he sees on this earth.
I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and told him exactly that, that he was loved by so many people and that he was not alone.
Soon, we heard sirens in the distance, and help was on its way. Upon arrival, the paramedics asked him his name and age, and he simply looked at me with sadness and confusion in his eyes. I assured him it was okay and that he would be fine as they loaded him into the ambulance.
Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. He was admitted, tested, and diagnosed with a TIA, a Transient Ischemic Attack, a temporary blockage of blood flow to part of the brain that causes stroke-like symptoms but thankfully causes no permanent brain damage. As it turns out, quick detection and treatment can often prevent a full stroke.
Were our actions lifesaving? We may never truly know. What I do know is how grateful I am that I listened to that quiet voice urging me to check on my friend. How many times have we all felt that nudge, that instinct to call someone, stop by, send a text, or simply ask, “Are you okay?” only to dismiss it as overthinking or unnecessary worry?
As Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself thinking about the people in our lives who taught us to care for others in exactly that way. The mothers, grandmothers, mentors, neighbors, and caregivers who showed us that compassion is not weakness and that looking out for one another matters. Sometimes love appears in grand gestures, but more often it shows up in the smallest moments, a check-in, a concern, a refusal to walk away when something doesn’t feel right.
That day reminded me that community is more than simply sharing a town or a morning cup of coffee. It is noticing when someone is not themselves. It is choosing to act instead of assuming someone else will. It is reminding another human being that they are loved and not alone, especially in moments when they may not be able to remember it for themselves.
In a world that often moves too quickly, perhaps the greatest gift we can offer one another is simply this: paying attention.
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Rhonda S. Kelley is the executive director of the Juniata River Valley Chamber of Commerce.

