What is this world I live in? What is this work I do?

All I could do was stand and watch. She wasn’t ready to talk, but it didn’t feel right to leave. The picture taped to the wall showed a mom and a daughter full of vibrancy and life. They had the same smile. It was warm and inviting. Today the smiles were gone. Her body lay lifeless and still. Her skin was ashen… almost colorless. I watched as a mom held her beloved daughter close, knowing it would be for the last time.

I stood to the side, silent and still. My eyes were wet and my lip quivered slightly. I could feel my own breath becoming intentional and slow as I worked to sustain composure.

“What is this world I live in? What is this work I do?”

This was the first of five deaths I responded to in less than 24 hours. The next one came literally as I exited this room, just two doors down. I took another deep breath (or several) and stepped across the threshold to accompany yet another family in the first moments of their loss and grief.

I love the work I do. It feels real and needed. But it also (like so many good things) comes at a cost.

I’ve learned much about self-care in my four years as a hospital chaplain. Lately, more than ever, I am clinging to the gift of grace in Jesus’ invitation to “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matt 11:28.)

My soul gravitates toward two words in this oft-quoted verse. REST (obviously) and GIVE.

Rest means everything I expect/want/need it to be. I need rest in the obvious ways, as well as ways not as easy to see. My legs and my feet ache from walking the long hospital hallways. But my soul aches even more. Jesus’ invitation to come and rest is a welcome one, especially after these long, past few days. It feels good to know the invitation comes even amid the ways I am weary and burdened. But the real goodness of his invitation (I think) is inseparable from the word GIVE.

Rest is a GIFT!

Maybe that sounds obvious, but real rest is not a gift I easily receive. I often spend my downtime struggling to be still. My mind is always spinning with new ideas. My soul and spirit often remain with the people I accompany in my work. Even when my body is still, I struggle to hold my thoughts and attention to the people who are most important to me.

No wonder sometimes I am weary and burdened.

Today I am off work. Tomorrow is the same. Right now I’m sitting still. I’m thinking and writing… breathing deep to rest. It feels good to be off my feet. Teach me to be still, O Christ. Help me to embrace your invitation to come and rest. May I receive your rest (heart, mind, body, soul, spirit) as the gift you promise it to be.