My wife is a chaplain in the Baptist Health Care System here in
San Antonio. She has served in several hospitals since 1987. In those years I
have heard many stories of grief and healing. I recall her telling me about a young man who had lost his battle with cancer, but was struggling and
fighting death, though he was in great pain. He had a wife and a couple of small
children. He just would not die.
Jeanene suggested that his wife might give him permission to let
go. So the woman climbed up into his hospital bed, cradled his head in her arms
and told him that it was okay for him to go. "I'll be okay, and I will take care
of our children. You can go. It's all right." The man took a few difficult
breaths and died in her arms.
Sometimes chaplains serve as midwives for the terrible but
inevitable passage of death. Sometimes they deliver people unto their own
grieving, helping with a small nudge or a tactful hand placed on a wrist. It's
delicate work; it requires a stout heart and a soft
touch. Not everyone has the gift.
Chaplains see it all, the birthing and the dying and the living
in between. I'm in awe of my gentle wife's amazing capacity for compassion. Even
after all these years, she is still tender and cares deeply for those she meets
at the worst of times.
I suppose it's because of Jeanene that I found
Dan Phillips' account of the death of a young man
so very powerful. Dan is a chaplain in Tennessee.
rlp
