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Today was care Home Chaplaincy Day, and I have to admit I really had to psyche myself up to go... it was a cold (and eventually drizzly) morning and I really wasn't in the best frame of empathic mind/heart.  Still, I pulled myself together, reminded myself it wasn't about me, and off I set.

As I arrived and signed in, the receptionist asked my name.  Do you remember S, she asked?  She, I said, A's son, how is he? He left these calendars for 'the minister' and it must be you, you were the ine who visited his mum. She died a few months ago.  I was fond of her.  In a way, I miss her.  And today, when I needed a little bit of a lift, there was a gift from her son.

Since my last visit a full half dozen people of those I visited have 'been promoted to glory,' and new ones have taken most, though not all, of their places. A's former room, full last time, is now empty again.

I had some jolly chats with new-to-me people, was told not to bother by another, and caught up with a few of my regulars.

In the end, it was a good morning, charactersied by grace, and once more humbling.

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