Our bags had barely crossed the threshold as Tara, Brynnan and I arrived home from our girl’s trip to the beach when the call came from the night shift nurse on the fourth floor of DCH Regional Hospital. She asked if I would come see Rachel.
Rachel, a single mother on welfare with failing kidneys and a heart full of bitterness at the turns her life had taken, required dialysis. Her increasingly frequent hospital stays were becoming extended due to malnourishment and complications of diabetes. Before our first visit, the nurses warned she was “unresponsive and difficult” and probably would not welcome a chaplain. They were right about her attitude, but with time and repeated visits, Rachel’s walls came down, and our relationship grew. Rachel was back in the hospital and asking for me.
“No! You can’t leave! This is our last night together!” said Brynnan.
Moments waned for me to be with my daughters before we each returned to our respective responsibilities. I struggled to convince myself Rachel could wait.
“I don’t know if I can sleep tonight if I don’t go,” I said aloud, mostly to myself.
“Mother--you have to go.” Tara said gently.
She put her arm around her younger sister’s shoulders, turned her around, and led her from the room. Her gesture said, “Go on, Mom. I’ll handle this.” Tara called back over her shoulder, “We’ll be here when you get back.”
The house was dark when I returned. Only Tara waited up for me.
“How’d it go?”
“Sometimes there are definite disadvantages to being Episcopalian,” I sighed.
She smiled. “What in the world happened?”
“I wanted to give Rachel words of encouragement, and I made the mistake of asking what her favorite psalm is. I figured she would say the 23rd. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Uh-oh. She picked one you don’t know.”
“She said, ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus’!”
Tara laughed, realizing Rachel had heard song, not psalm, and knowing “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” is a hymn rarely sung in an Episcopal church.
“What did you do?”
“I certainly had not intended to sing, but what could I do? It was embarrassing! I only knew the first line. After that, all I could do was hum!”
“Oh, dear! That will never do!” she laughed. “We Episcopalians mustn’t be outdone by the Baptists!” Any of whom, she agreed, would most likely have known every word.
When Tara stopped laughing at my vocal predicament and denominational dilemma, she promised she would find on the internet the words to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” and give them to me before she left in the morning.
“Just in case this ever happens again,” she smiled.
“Well, while you’re at it, there is another song I can’t get out of my head. I can’t remember the words, and I’m not sure of the tune, but it goes like this.” Tara rolled her eyes. I saw a spark of amusement. She must have thought that hardly helpful. I substituted hand claps for words and beat out the rhythm, feeling more than a little silly.
I added, “I only remember the last three words—‘the marvelous peace of God’.”
“Sure, Mom. I think I know it.”
I looked to see if her expression revealed a note of sarcasm. It didn’t.
Morning came and in the rush to get Tara on the road, both of us forgot her promise.
By week’s end, I was called to another hospital in another city where Tara died of complications after giving birth to her daughter Alden.
We never know when simple words of encouragement might be the very ones to uphold another person in difficult times. When guilt for leaving that night rose to the surface, when regret for lost time with Tara invaded my thoughts and stole peace of mind, I held tightly to her words of support and knew I had done the thing in going to Rachel.
When the request came years later for me to walk back into a hospital to be with another young woman who needed a chaplain, it was Tara’s words that gave me the strength to return.
“Mother, you have to go.”
No matter how difficult it was, I knew I must rise from my big red chair and go.
Tara wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Reflections:
“Regret reveals places where we might choose an alternate course of action if presented with a similar situation. It can be the key that frees us from the prison of mindlessly repeating our mistakes. Other than that, regret it has no positive purpose.” ~Bunny Cox
--Is there someone who has been an angel of encouragement for me?
--Is there someone who needs my support or encouragement?
--What are my thoughts about regret? What role, if any, does it play in my life?
Practice: Make a list of people you know and love. Beside each name write a phrase or word of support and encouragement that might be helpful for that person. Make a commitment to encourage at least one person every day.
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