her new roommate, while not making any real progress, was at least holding her own.
When she arrived at their door, Olympia would often find the two women chatting away as though they’d known each other forever. But it was cheery, optimistic Elinore, the self-appointed caregiver, who badgered Nancy to finish her meal or to get up and walk and who encouraged her to make the best of every minute of the day. There were days when Olympia wondered who was ministering to whom in room 311, but she decided it really didn’t matter.
Elinore Banks was improving far beyond expectations. After that first day, when she had learned about the possibility of not returning to her own home, the optimistic and determined little grandmother dismissed the negative option completely and concentrated on the positive. That morning, when Olympia entered her room, she waved a triumphant fist in the air and announced she was going home come hell or high water. Olympia responded with a high five and said, “You go, girl. If anyone can do it, you can.”
Olympia looked over to see Nancy lying there, smiling encouragement to the two of them, as Elinore outlined her happy plans.
Later, when Olympia returned to visit with Nancy, she pulled the privacy curtain between the two beds and listened while Nancy told her how difficult it was to be happy for Elinore, knowing she herself might not reach her fiftieth birthday. Sister Patrick’s words came back to Olympia. “Be a presence. Listen to the secret thoughts and hold them in your heart.”
Olympia leaned closer and encouraged the frail woman to speak her thoughts, assuring her that she would honor and keep her confidence. At the end of the visit, Olympia reached out her hands to Nancy Farwell and the two of them bowed their heads while Olympia prayed for strength and for the miracle of an available compatible liver.
“It’s not like I want someone else to die so I can live,” said Nancy, looking up at Olympia when they finished the prayer, “but …” She hesitated, her tired voice growing huskier. “I just want to see my children get through high school. Is that too much to ask?”
“Nothing is ever too much to ask a God you trust.” Olympia was still holding the woman’s hands. “I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long to learn the answers. I guess that’s where faith takes over. I do believe there is a purpose in our living, and every one of us has something to give to this time on earth, as well as something to learn from it. Right now, you are helping me to learn how to be a chaplain. I’ll bet you never thought of that. The lessons I take from you will help me help someone else, so your gift of strength in all your own pain and waiting will go on to benefit someone you’ll likely never meet. Your courage to keep trying in the face of all you are dealing with is a divine gift, Nancy. I believe that with all my heart.”
“I don’t want to die, Olympia.” Her yellow-tinged eyes filled with tears.
Oh, God, what do I say now?
“I don’t want you to die either, and I’m going to keep on believing that a healthy liver will become available to you. I do believe in prayer, but I’m not averse to super-charging it with a healthy dose of positive thinking.”
At this, Nancy managed a weak smile, but the conversation had tired her out, and she was obviously ready for a rest. “I like it when you visit me,” she said as Olympia helped her lower the bed and rearrange her pillows. Her voice was fading. “Thank you for listening, Olympia. I feel better when I talk to you. That other chaplain just rubs my hands and arms and talks about salvation and making peace with God.”
“What other chaplain?” Olympia was instantly on red alert and trying not to show it, but the woman was exhausted and slipping into a light sleep.
“Said his name was Luther something,” she murmured. “Big, cold cross …”
Nancy’s hand relaxed on the blanket as she slowly drifted into
When she arrived at their door, Olympia would often find the two women chatting away as though they’d known each other forever. But it was cheery, optimistic Elinore, the self-appointed caregiver, who badgered Nancy to finish her meal or to get up and walk and who encouraged her to make the best of every minute of the day. There were days when Olympia wondered who was ministering to whom in room 311, but she decided it really didn’t matter.
Elinore Banks was improving far beyond expectations. After that first day, when she had learned about the possibility of not returning to her own home, the optimistic and determined little grandmother dismissed the negative option completely and concentrated on the positive. That morning, when Olympia entered her room, she waved a triumphant fist in the air and announced she was going home come hell or high water. Olympia responded with a high five and said, “You go, girl. If anyone can do it, you can.”
Olympia looked over to see Nancy lying there, smiling encouragement to the two of them, as Elinore outlined her happy plans.
Later, when Olympia returned to visit with Nancy, she pulled the privacy curtain between the two beds and listened while Nancy told her how difficult it was to be happy for Elinore, knowing she herself might not reach her fiftieth birthday. Sister Patrick’s words came back to Olympia. “Be a presence. Listen to the secret thoughts and hold them in your heart.”
Olympia leaned closer and encouraged the frail woman to speak her thoughts, assuring her that she would honor and keep her confidence. At the end of the visit, Olympia reached out her hands to Nancy Farwell and the two of them bowed their heads while Olympia prayed for strength and for the miracle of an available compatible liver.
“It’s not like I want someone else to die so I can live,” said Nancy, looking up at Olympia when they finished the prayer, “but …” She hesitated, her tired voice growing huskier. “I just want to see my children get through high school. Is that too much to ask?”
“Nothing is ever too much to ask a God you trust.” Olympia was still holding the woman’s hands. “I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long to learn the answers. I guess that’s where faith takes over. I do believe there is a purpose in our living, and every one of us has something to give to this time on earth, as well as something to learn from it. Right now, you are helping me to learn how to be a chaplain. I’ll bet you never thought of that. The lessons I take from you will help me help someone else, so your gift of strength in all your own pain and waiting will go on to benefit someone you’ll likely never meet. Your courage to keep trying in the face of all you are dealing with is a divine gift, Nancy. I believe that with all my heart.”
“I don’t want to die, Olympia.” Her yellow-tinged eyes filled with tears.
Oh, God, what do I say now?
“I don’t want you to die either, and I’m going to keep on believing that a healthy liver will become available to you. I do believe in prayer, but I’m not averse to super-charging it with a healthy dose of positive thinking.”
At this, Nancy managed a weak smile, but the conversation had tired her out, and she was obviously ready for a rest. “I like it when you visit me,” she said as Olympia helped her lower the bed and rearrange her pillows. Her voice was fading. “Thank you for listening, Olympia. I feel better when I talk to you. That other chaplain just rubs my hands and arms and talks about salvation and making peace with God.”
“What other chaplain?” Olympia was instantly on red alert and trying not to show it, but the woman was exhausted and slipping into a light sleep.
“Said his name was Luther something,” she murmured. “Big, cold cross …”
Nancy’s hand relaxed on the blanket as she slowly drifted into
Similar Books
