Eight deaths in four weeks. That's how many of my hospice patients have died since I started Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) on June 1st. Writing it like that makes me feel like the Chaplain of Death, but it really isn't like that. Being with people facing a terminal diagnosis or impending death is a wonderfully exhausting privilege. There isn't much room to hide at times like that, so I've had some of the most vulnerable and sincere encounters with these people I hardly know simply because they know - and I know - that they don't have much time left.
I was a bit worried when I learned early on that we try to represent our hospice group at all viewings or funerals. Funeral homes are just not my favorite places. However, I must say that the gratitude from family members with whom I have sat and talked through the last days helps the funereal surroundings fade into the background. This is what my ministry this summer is about, and, exhausting as it is, I can feel it working deep within me and beginning to suffuse every aspect of my life.
I preached at St. Peter's in the Great Valley this morning. In fact, I played the organ and preached, which was an interesting experience! I had written a sermon reflecting on my hospice work using the lectionary for the 3rd Sunday after Pentecost, but I found out yesterday that the readings for Independence Day had been transferred from Monday to today, so back to the drawing board I went to come up with another few things to say. So I have this hospice sermon kind of sitting there, waiting for these readings to come around again in three years. I think I'll just share it here, and if you hear me preach it some day, I hope you will have forgotten that you already read it.
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