A Friend in the Dark

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     Abraham Lincoln, we all know, was killed at the height of his presidential career. The Civil War was over, for all intents and purposes, though a few skirmishes continued to erupt.

      He had gone to Ford’s Theater with the thought of recreation and the sweet relief that only major success brings to a man. The import of that night would be anything but what he expected a few hours earlier.

     And almost a century and a half later we know the rest of the story. 

    A dear, sensitive, but fiercely determined man would die as day broke over Washington. He had been take to an apartment across the way from the theater, and laid diagonally across a bed, due to his tall frame. People milled in and out of the room, but one man remained through the night; griping the president's hand.

    As I write this devotion, I never heard the man identified, but his identity is not all that important. What he did was crucial.

    For as the president lay there, he sat by his side, ever holding his hand. At one point one of the cabinet secretaries asked the man, “Why do you sit there with our unconscious president, hour after hour, like you do? Why, he doesn’t even know you’re here.”

    The man’s response was both empathetic and eloquent. “Because if he awakes in the dark, he’ll know he has a friend.”
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By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 16. Copyright pending

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