With some trepidation but also bolstered courage and rest
from the long weekend, I began my first day of patient visits. In ICU I met "D"
who shared her dreams of heaven and hell.
“I’ve never know that kind of love,” she whispered with tears in her
eyes. This encounter with the
Mystery and God of Love had been bathed in warm cream-colored light, and I
imagined the sweetness as if it were a gourmet cupcake and smooth frosting. On the 3rd floor I talked
with many people who had a great deal of hope despite the incredible hills they
had already overcome in their lives and the challenges still facing them. They
spoke softly of their losses, tenderly petting a lap as if a beloved dog still
rested there or wishing for another chance to make better choices as an example
to grandchildren. The rich faith oozed out of all these patients, a sustenance
thick as honey that could no longer remain the cookie-cutter picture once
learned in Sunday school.
As I reflect on my day, I realize that had looked forward to
my “Death by Chocolate” ice cream throughout it all. No, I wasn’t drooling on
patients, but the knowledge that a sweet treat would accompany me after dinner
popped in my head once or twice.
This first intentional encounter with patients fulfilled long awaited
expectations I thought about, prayed for, and dreamt about since January.
Finally, this day came without disappointment, just as sweetly as a bowl of ice
cream this evening. I experienced
a few moments of hesitancy and uncertainty. How would I answer questions about forgiveness? How might I
show care to one who is in the last days of life? Will we move beyond the
inconveniences of surgery? I let those questions linger with me and somehow
they found resolution or just the sweet space for mystery. I look forward to tomorrow, not just
for the sweet, pleasing ice-cream experience of it, but for all as I know now
that I won’t be disappointed.
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