It’s true, we walk the halls and corridors of the hospital. At times we may even appear lost. But I assure you we’re not. We stroll with a mission. With a prayerful and watchful eye, we are looking at faces, reading body language, and decerning who might need a kind word, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, or some prayer. We roam around in an open and available presence. With a heart of readiness, the chaplain is prepared to listen to those in need. We are safe harbor, a place where one can safely and freely express themselves.

     We say “hi” and smile. We do small talk because we are experts in the “smallest of talk”. We ask questions of those we engage in hopes to discover an inner need. We want, no, we actually desire to assist, to lift-up, encourage, and lighten the heaviest of loads, no matter how brief. Some of our best and most profound interactions occur in elevators, parking structures, halls, and waiting rooms. These visits are not scheduled. Not planned by any man or deemed by one’s schedule. Nope. They are often proven to be divinely led. A divine appointment, if you will, or should I say as He wills!

     I remember one such meeting. I was waiting on an elevator when a gentleman walked up. His head was down. I sensed a heaviness over him. I asked, “Who he was here to visit?” He said his son. I asked how he was doing. He said, “He’s braindead and I just found out he’s an organ donor. Now they’re going to keep him alive so they can cut him up.” Tears welded up in his eyes as he tried to hold them back. I said, “I’m so sorry. Is he in ICU?” “Yes.” He replied. “Is he in bed four?” “Yes,” he replied. “I know him. I am Chaplain Sunny. I’m part of your son’s care team. I have been praying for him and your family since he’s been here.” “You have?” “Yes, I have.” The elevator reached the floor to the parking lot and we exited. “Before you leave, may I pray for you?” I asked. “Sure, but I am going to get a lawyer.” With an understanding touch I put my hand on his shoulder and prayed. I felt an ease come over him. I asked if we could talk tomorrow morning. He said, “Sure”. I told him I’d meet him in his son’s room. He said he’d be there. I assured him I’d pray for him tonight. He thanked me.

     The next morning, he and his family were gathered. Amazing they were in unity and ready to move forward with the donation. I was blessed to see the peace and comfort that was now over the whole family. He thanked me and he expressed gratitude. They never returned to the hospital but I was able to stay with their son as he was waiting to give the life-saving gift to someone.  

     You see, the work of the chaplain is not just done at bedside as one might think. We are not just there to pray when needed or expected. We are there to support everyone and anyone that will talk with us. Take the story of Alice. She works at the hospital. She brings patients their meals. I see her around the hospital fairly regularly. She has a great repour with patients. She usually looks busy and sometimes even a bit stressed, but she is always professional. Her smile is a welcomed blessing.

     On this particular day I could tell something was different. I asked her how she was doing. She replied, “Fine.” Followed by a half smile. I said, “Just fine? Are you sure? I have a feeling there’s more going on?” She looked at me, took a deep breath, and swallowed. She whispered, “I just lost my hero. My dad died.” “He was your hero? May I ask what happened?” She let go of her cart, wiped tears from her eyes and began to share openly right there at the end of the hallway.

     We talked between patient’s rooms and the stairwell. She shared about her dad and their relationship. He truly was her hero. She counted the days and the hours of his passing and admitted she felt lost without him. I listened. We hugged. We made an appointment for her to see me so we could work on her grief. We met for nearly a year one to two times a week. Every time we’d see each other in the halls we’d stop. She’d talk, we’d hug, and I’d pray for her. She would always thank me for those mini hallway meetings.

     Now you know our secret. Our boots are not just made for walking but to minister peace, distribute love, gentleness, compassion, and kindness. We are an available presence. Research finds that people who talk to the chaplain one to three minutes a week feel less stress and are more likely to report being happy.

     So, there you have it. The answer to that gnawing and not so gnawing question you always wondered but never asked. The hospital chaplain walks are purposeful and “purpose filled”. Sometimes they are filled with moments of silent and understood glances. Other times minutes or even hours of listening. They may even lead to many necessary follow-up visits. Those walks that look as though we are wandering and sometimes, we may even appear to be lost. These walks often led to moments that touch lives and make a powerful impact. Not just on those we minister to but, if the truth be known, on us.

     I hope these stories assure you that we are working and very much available. We are open to being approached. We are, as Dr. Suess might say, here and there and everywhere. Ready to listen and perhaps most importantly ready to pray. We look forward to supporting as many people as necessary in a variety of ways and situations. We walk as God leads. Looking for opportunities to help people in need. So, the next time you see a chaplain strolling the hospital halls take a moment and talk to them. You just might get a boost, a jolt stronger than your morning coffee, a touch and a wink from God, and your hospital chaplain as we, “Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly love children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Ephesians 5:1-2).     

     Thanks for hanging out with me. Hope you log on soon. Now go be blessed and remember to be your best!