praying

One of my goals for this week was to be bolder in the experience I offered my patients.  I want to make sure that it isn't me that is holding them back from going deeper. This is hospice.  There are plenty of deep places to discuss. Sometimes those conversation have an awkward start.  My first two patients today I had had nice conversations with but very surface.  So today I dove in.


I spent an hour at house #1.  We got into a serious conversation about the patient's bucket list and what she hoped to accomplish and forgive before she got too ill to.  One glance at her facesheet reminded me that she had a Methodist background.  So as I was getting ready to leave I asked if she would like me to pray with her.  She began to stammer an excuse while her daughter rolled her eyes.  "We aren't really into that kind of thing." she explained.  I reiterated my role to assist and enrich her spiritual life in what ever way she chose.  At least I had tried.


House #2 found me struggling to make conversation with a sweet, shy widower.  He shared, mostly in yes or no responses, how life had changed in the two years he had been alone.  He didn't elaborate when I asked about his church background, so I was hesitant to offer prayer.  Especially after the last house.  But I was supposed to be bold, so I asked if he would like me to pray with him.  "Oh would you please?  I would love that." He shocked me with the longest sentence of the thirty minutes I had been with him.  I pulled my chair closer to his and he took my hands while we prayed.


House #3 was unplanned.  A nurse on my team called to say she was doing a new admission for an actively dying Africian American woman.  There were many family members present and this would be a good time for the whole team to come by.  I arrived at the same time as our social worker and manager.  We were greeted by seven adult children who immediately began sharing rich stories of their mother's life of service and acts of kindness.  Two sons and the patient's husband were Apostolic ministers.  When they asked me to pray over their mother I felt more than a little intimidated.  "Be bold Erin" I reminded myself, crowded around mother's bed with my team and 15 family members.  As I began to pray, others joined me in praying out loud.  The husband began speaking in tongues over his wife, across the bed from me.  It was hard to know whether I should concentrate on what I was saying, or enjoy the prayers being lifted around me.  


After the amens, a daughter began singing.  One after another the family joined in. Haunting Negro Spirituals filled the room with melodies and harmonies blending beautifully and crescendoing. Before long there wasn't a dry eye in the room.  It was one of those moments that you can't believe you might have missed.  And the perfect end to the spectrum of prayer attempts that day.


Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold.       2 Corinthians 3:12