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.