I don’t know about you, but I often emit an internal howl!!
No one but me can hear me, unless of course the HEAVENLY HOST have ears as all good choruses do. Their vocabulary of course is limited to words like ALLELUIA—or alternatively HOSANNA.
I am old by traditional measures, that is 87. I’ve had spinal surgery to strengthen my spine and protect it from more deterioration thanks to osteoporosis, that too a gift of genetics + AGING. I have nagged and kvetched to the top administrative staff of the residence where I live whose mission is to provide ALL levels of care for elderly folks to “age in place–independently.”
Aging I am. BUT I will LOSE my independence at a rate I do not control, despite fantasies to the contrary.
In short, I tell you a mystery I cannot solve with even the best of rational acrobatics. BUT I do talk every day to those who travel this way with me, especially my beloved husband, my own adult children and grandchildren, and friends, both old and new. AND when I can I continue to act as the listening chaplain I used to be in hospitals, and the one I lobby-in-place for here now among aging people.
Oddly, one of the most important aspects of a chaplain’s job anywhere is MOBILITY–moving about, taking in the many scenes, using all senses, taking in the world of Being itself all around me. I am free to follow the quiet breath sounds, even gentle snoring. I don’t mean being free to follow a job geographically, but rather free to listen and accompany the breath of souls.
I’m an introvert. Some would call me shy and others would say I’m nosy. I’ve always had one, or maybe 2-3 close trusted friends, with whom I travel. You could call me a snob—or a born chaplain.
A chaplain wanders, roams, listens for loneliness, yearning, leans into the silence of divine quietude, beckoning or simply being present.
