I think my crier is broken. Sometimes I wonder about the things that bring me to tears, which, by the way, seems to happen a lot more often lately. Perhaps it’s because of the season…or the time of life…or, perhaps it’s because at any moment, life has the potential to reach out and grab you by the throat. And so, life becomes more precious and the moments that make it up, more sacred. A shooting star reminds me of God’s in-finiteness, an act of kindness, like the teenager on the nightly news, who crawled out of safety under sniper-fire, in an attempt to rescue a women he did not know…of God’s goodness…and tears escape.

I’ve had people tell me that they don’t understand “how you do what you do.” They mean my work as a chaplain. I visit the sick. I sit with the dying. And I am blessed by the privilege of participating in a sacred time in a person’s life. Again, that word pops up…“sacred.” “Holy,” would be another way to describe it.

Holy ground… As one of my patient’s was dying, she described being surrounded by children, who were, by the way, not present in the hospital room. The doctor passed it off as her being delusional and actually chuckled a little. Another dying patient began a conversation with her mother, who was deceased. My own mom, as she was dying, asked, “Is the car packed? Is everything ready?” I told her it was, and that she could go. Delusions…or sacred conversations?

May you be blessed and overwhelmed this Christmas season, as God points out your sacred scenes. And may we all remember, sometimes, tears are entirely appropriate.

Kim W. Chafee
12-14-12