I am a volunteer at our local hospice.  On a recent shift, the nurse asked me to sit with a resident who was a "fall risk. 

She was unconscious but every 15 minutes or so would "surface" and speak incoherently.  I sat beside her and calmed her down so that she didn't try to get out of bed.  She had bad cuts and bruises from her last attempt to get out of her bed – despite the “bed alarms”.

I spoke softly, sang a bit, told her that she was precious and that she was loved.  I held her hand as I spoke to her.  She grasped my hand with her other hand as well - it almost seemed like she had a desperate need for connection.
 
After some time talking to her, calming her and reassuring her, she raised my hand to her lips and kissed the back of my hand over and over again.
 
To some people this might seem like a trite occurrence, or a semi-interesting story of not much consequence.
 
To me it will be a memory that will last a lifetime.  It touched me deeply to the core of my being.
 
She didn't even know who I was - I had not met her before this time.  I was a perfect stranger.  But perhaps that is the key - perfect. 

Not me, of course.  It was the moment that was perfect, the connection that was perfect, love that was perfect - in the way we are called to love one another as we love ourselves.  ~ eKim