The Madonna

my presence was needed the announcement echoed thru hospital halls which meant the medical team assembled but that kind of expertise was not why i was called my lot in this equation, a signature i was in another room in a discussion MIT graduate, engineering, solid atheist we were discussing the concept of God his hostility toward my position Spiritual Care had been long quelled i simply came by to offer services a morning newspaper, or a sandwich i did not come to save his soul from those lapping eternal fires of hell carry the gospel, use few words theology just a caring offer of services available seems we had a lot in common with tension, shear, and stress and the quantum world below reality he was dying of melanoma, leaving soon going back to Africa along the river his last email was a picture from a balcony below the Congo River his note, God and i are at peace gratitude it was not one of those duties called to a room and a young lady, age 12 was back for more chemo leukemia had returned i gathered the family together holding hands and praying a good outcome as the child's hand folded into mine i was to know, she would not be returning those fields children abandon themselves in these would be her last days these are moments in Gethsemane when disquiet falters steps and the strength of His Will gathers the courage to pick up the cross follow in the path you were given a journey to master every fear later alone, in prayer, you simply weep in arms of unconditional love i continued to the room where the medical team was assembled i was handed the form to witness a typical DNR, and as i signed i caught her face upon mine there in my eyes was the serenity of a beautiful Madonna, meeting her eyes my soul was grasped with ataraxia she was, my best guess, early fifties breast cancer was the diagnoses the final stages were in full command with my signature, i was no longer needed the medical team would finish their job later i would be buying a coffee when one of those callings within you just never challenge i returned to the room of this Madonna as the Paraclete commands to offer counsel or comfort the conversation will be forever mine to keep, but i can say this of all the passings i was to experience those who walked away into that veil in a state of peace knowing the promises are upon the wings of faith there are those rarer moments i have seen some of the human bitterness the acerbic producing a miasmatic room where shields of Grace and Forgiveness falters no flight of the Paraclete my most precious memory is the Madonna, whose hand i held and God graced me with this precious gift to witness happiness in death those doors He presents one never knows you trust and like Daniel, walk into the lion's den OKC 06/22