Lent 21

Since I had to run out last night, I'll continue with my point. During days like I had yesterday, I find myself despising the symbol of Lent and craving the joy and assurance of Resurrection. Sometimes as a chaplain, I am disgusted with myself for the work that I know I have to do. Even more, I know that the work I have to do is good work, but it still feels so... I don't know... I don't know the right word, but I often find--and last night was no exception--that when things are going seriously wrong with a patient, family members are freaking out and scared but they cling to hope that their loved one is going to get better no matter the circumstances. And sometimes, most of the time, the chaplain's job is to ask the hard questions, to bring to the surface the reality that they already know somewhere inside them.

Last night, for instance, I walked into a very bad situation with a very sick patient. Her family was freaking out as they watched nurses and doctors frantically trying to get her stable. I asked the patient's daughter if she'd like to take a walk. We ended up walking down the hall and sitting in the family waiting room and the whole time she talked about hoping "they'd find out what's wrong and fix it" I was working the word "die" into the conversation as often as was possible and reminding her of her mother's mortality. "I hope so too. You know your mother is a very sick lady though, right? Have you thought..."

I asked hard questions in a whole range of ways and it was important for this woman to talk these things out, but when I returned to the on-call room, I felt covered in dust and ashes. In this time of year, especially, I try to connect my work to the season and right now, I'm crying out for Lent to be over. I want to shake the dust from my sandals and wipe the ashes from my forehead. Ready already for a Resurrection story.