As I walked into work on Monday, I took a picture.

Our building has been expanded over the last several months. Six floors, 24 rooms on a floor (give or take), and space for coworkers and supplies and all.

The top floor opens Thursday at 7:00 am.

I’ve watched the building from the beginning, as parking was closed off and work started. Each trade doing its part for long shifts in all weather.

It’s been remarkable to watch.

At the same time as this unit has grown, in the community, in the rest of the building, people have been getting sick and getting well, getting injured and healing, being born and dying.

I had a strange convergence of the building and the care the day that I was with an ICU patient. A friend stopped by to visit. The friend looked around the room. “This is nice but the new part is pretty great. I’m wiring over there.”

I saw that convergence on Monday, watching one of our helicopters bring in a patient. As coworkers were touring the newest part, emergencies were still showing up, needing care.

Why talk about the hospital after a tough day inside?

Because you and I need to remember that our small acts matter for the building. And the need for the building never stops.

The person facing the struggle you understand needs the words you can share about surviving in pain. The foundation you know how to lay will support the people six floors up who are providing care.

The one thing you know how to do needs to be done. Right now. That prayer. That text. That cleaning. That apology. That blessing.

Whether it’s part of building or part of using the building, it matters. You matter.

Right now.

Please help.

Thank you.