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I thought I was going to sneak in and out of the hospital unnoticed.
This past summer I got sick and was dehydrated to the point where I needed emergency care. Doctors wanted to keep watch, so I was admitted. I wasn’t planning to stay more than a few hours, so when the nurse asked whether I wanted to speak with a chaplain, I said no. One of the things going through my head was that it would be fine with me if no one ever sees me in a hospital gown again.
Thank goodness God saw through my vanity.
The next morning — a Sunday — I was down in the dumps. I can’t sleep in hospitals, what with the beeps and the nurses and the anxiety and the general feeling that I should really be somewhere – anywhere — else. Plus no showers, no home-cooked food and no little-boy snuggles for several days can get a mama down.
And when I realized that normally I would be at Mass at that moment, and I was missing out on the high point of my week, I felt really sad.
Not 10 minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
An extraordinary minister of holy Communion was there to bring me Jesus.
Praise Jesus.
I did, as the volunteer guided me through prayers.
The Eucharist has never before tasted so sweet, and it has never before moved me to tears.
It made everything else bearable.
Soon I was released and told that I was going to be fine.
And I am. In fact, I’m better than fine. I have a newfound appreciation for the kindness of volunteers, the gift of health and the thoughtfulness of Jesus to come to meet me where I was.
