Such fragile moments these gifted breaths. Each one surmounting the miracle of the one before while in careful awe and anticipation of the one that comes after. Or at least that is our hope, our expectation. We take if for granted and long forget to cherish the divine sweetness filling our lungs: the wind of mercy; this breath of Heaven. But what of when we linger and cling to each heartbeat. savoring every infinitely tiny nuance of mortality in the face of that which thrives in the silence and void of our laughter and joy, our peace, our happiness, and most of all, our faith?

She told me her story a few weeks ago. Cheyenne Bennett is a good friend of mine offering her occupation as a gift to the elderly imparting within them the immeasurable gifts of respect, honor, and love. During one of those phone conversations traversing countless…