Doug
Certified Member
Share an example of when spiritual care made a meaningful impact
“Jane” was supine and unconscious when I met her. Out of prison for only two days after a term in a federal penitentiary, she’d been rushed to the ICU that saved her life. Once on the ward she requested spiritual care to talk about her time in a coma.
“I now truly believe,” she began.
“And what is it you truly believe?”
“That there is life after death,” she declared, elaborating how this could be either or good or bad depending “on the kind of life you live.”
We let the words sink in. Her resumé spoke volumes—addictions, lawlessness, neglected children and God knows what all else. We sat with the heaviness and she allowed herself to steep in the accumulated sorrows without trying to justify or explain. She acknowledged harsh facts.
At the next visit she called herself “lucky,” fortunate “because I nearly died and I didn’t.” Her desire to live a healthy lifestyle was evident; her fear that it could all collapse into disaster but a heartbeat away.
A few days later she was stronger and making plans. Her boyfriend was repairing the home they intended to share in a place far removed from the temptations of the city. At one point the talk turned to Harry Potter, and when she faltered in the details of scene, a voice from behind the curtain chimed in with helpful comment.
As I left I greeted the neighbour, who said he’d listened to several of my conversations with Jane.
“She’s always happier after you’ve been here,” he added, and turned back to his cards with no idea of the blessing his words conferred on me.
“I now truly believe,” she began.
“And what is it you truly believe?”
“That there is life after death,” she declared, elaborating how this could be either or good or bad depending “on the kind of life you live.”
We let the words sink in. Her resumé spoke volumes—addictions, lawlessness, neglected children and God knows what all else. We sat with the heaviness and she allowed herself to steep in the accumulated sorrows without trying to justify or explain. She acknowledged harsh facts.
At the next visit she called herself “lucky,” fortunate “because I nearly died and I didn’t.” Her desire to live a healthy lifestyle was evident; her fear that it could all collapse into disaster but a heartbeat away.
A few days later she was stronger and making plans. Her boyfriend was repairing the home they intended to share in a place far removed from the temptations of the city. At one point the talk turned to Harry Potter, and when she faltered in the details of scene, a voice from behind the curtain chimed in with helpful comment.
As I left I greeted the neighbour, who said he’d listened to several of my conversations with Jane.
“She’s always happier after you’ve been here,” he added, and turned back to his cards with no idea of the blessing his words conferred on me.