That's me in the pot shop...
that's me at the stop, light, losing my ever-loving shit because the light's about to turn red again and we still haven't moved GODDAMMIT PUT DOWN YOUR PHONE!
One weird thing about working in spiritual care—there are many—is that when you show up in a hospital room announcing you’re the chaplain, people perceive you a certain way. Like, as a representative of God. Which I am, I suppose, but not to any greater degree than you are. (Don’t we all represent the spirit which animates us?) But because I have a title, many people confer upon me a special status.
It’s deserved insofar as I am working to cultivate skills to meet people effectively in their darkest times. In that sense, I am perhaps uniquely qualified to present myself, a perfect stranger, to offer intimate support at what is typically an already very surreal time. It wouldn’t work if I walked in and said, “Hi, I’m a stranger, tell me what’s stirring in you?” Or, “Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m a lapsed Christian. Can I pray for you?”
So instead I walk in and say, “Hi, I’m Minda. I’m part of your care team. May I sit with you for a few minutes?” Typically that gets me in the door.
“The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
My favorite visits are the ones where they never know what my role is. We just talk, and I inquire about things I can tell matter to them, or worries keeping them awake at night, or what is most painful on their heart, or what they’re most looking forward to when they leave the hospital.
But sometimes patients seem deeply invested in my holiness. Without asking me a single question, they will tell me who I am and how I believe. “Jesus has blessed you abundantly.” “I can tell you really love Jesus.” “God is faithful to you because you are so faithful to Him.”
I think this insistence is because it enables them to believe the care I provide is somehow sanctified, or that the prayer will be more effective, because it came from a person they assume is a “Believer.”
It would be careless, and pointless, to correct them in the moment, so I just roll with it. I grew up with enough church to act the part, and there are aspects of Christianity that I do relate to and even celebrate. I often find Scripture pops into my head that I had no idea was rolling around in there. It’s really useful at times.
The way I see it, I am a conduit. A resource center, of sorts. If I can offer a tool someone else can use for their edification or healing, I’m delighted. Honored.
And then I leave the room, still very much the human they need me not to be: a human that gets impatient in traffic, swears too much, and farts. Just as God made me.
I love this so much. You are a human we all love: relatable, vulnerable and uniquely you.