Norman Rockwell Moment

The reason I named this short story “Norman Rockwell Moment” will become apparent at the end of my story. So, you’ll have to read it to the end to find out.

As a Hospice Chaplain, there are times I’m on call overnight for several nights a week. It was early one morning when I heard my phone ringing. You see, I set it close to my side of the bed to ensure I didn’t miss a call and wouldn’t wake up my wife.

A little about how I act when I’m on call: I find that I possess a passion for ensuring that I reach the need as quickly and safely as possible.  I hang my clothes on hangers and keep my shoes and socks underneath so that I can change into my work clothes as quickly as possible.

Patient is Transitioning

It was about 2 a.m. when my phone rang, and I answered it within just a couple of rings. It was a patient. Not one on my list of patients, I had never met her before that night, and she was transitioning. Meaning she was coming to the end of her life. She lived about twenty minutes away from me, so, as I said, my passion is to get to our patients as soon as possible for them and their families.

I dressed quickly and went out the door. I had already worked a ten-hour day and had been asleep just a few hours before the call. But off I went.

Putting the address in my GPS, I was off. As I turned onto the patient’s street, I noticed there was no parking space available. All sides of the street were full of cars. It took me a little while to decide to park on a side street and walk to the home in question.

Before I could ring the bell, the door opened, and the first thing I noticed was wall-to-wall people. This was a small, maybe a thousand square foot house, and I don’t think it could hold another person. It was then that it occurred to me why there was no parking available on the street. They were all here.

Overflowing with Family

The person at the door, as I recall, was the patient’s grandson; that is how he introduced himself. After inviting me in, I followed him across the house down a narrow hallway to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When I looked at the bedroom, it was overflowing with clutter. Standing room only. I could only see backs and shoulders.

What I noticed was that they were all looking in the same direction. And when they cleared out a spot their focus was on a sweet little lady in a hospital bed. She was not conscience and looked almost angelic. Meaning she looked very peaceful.

As I stood there for a moment, someone called out to get the Pastor a chair, and over the top of all the heads in the room came one, which wound up next to the head of her bed, next to Nellie. That was the patient’s name, Nellie. I remember thinking when our on-call staff first gave me that name.  Not many young girls today are called Nellie.

Crowded Room to Honor Her

I sat down in the chair and caught up with my thoughts for just a second. Then I took up her hand as I often do, as I have always been a Chaplain who touches, looking up at the crowd that was in her room. I lost count of about twenty-seven people in what looked to be, at best, a ten-by-ten bedroom. I hope you have got a good understanding of the moment.

As I scanned the group, a couple of things instantly came to mind. First, could all these be related? As I pondered that, I caught notice of all the eyes in the room.

How to explain what I noticed except to say twenty-seven sets of eyes in that room, from all ages. I mean, from twelve to seventy, maybe older, and in all their eyes, there was a different story. That’s right, everyone was there for the same reason. But in all their eyes, there was a clear story of how Nellie had affected them in various ways. How amazing I thought that was. One thing I need to mention is that lying next to Nellie was the newest member of the family, a newborn girl. I would find out she was less than two months old.

Norman Rockwell Moment

I must tell you that this is where Norman Rockwell came to play. There they all were.  Most of the time I was there, they were silent. They let me talk, and all I could think was referencing Norman Rockwell. I told the room that many of you probably didn’t know who Norman Rockwell was. However, he was an artist who worked as an illustrator in the early twentieth century, and what he could do was capture a moment in time. That is life moments on canvas.

Such was the case tonight. I told them this was like looking at a Norman Rockwell painting. So much love filled that room. I took the time to pray and then thank them all for the honor of being there. After I said goodbye, they had to clear out a trail for me to get to the front door. On the way home, I reflected on this encounter and how fortunate I felt to have shared this time with them. Many people can live a lifetime and never have this send-off.

When I arrived at work that morning, I read the notice that Nellie had passed away. About ten minutes after I left her home. There was no sadness over her passing. She had lived a full life, as was evident the night before. For many years to come, she will be fondly remembered and with great love. Isn’t that what we all hope and pray for? I wonder.

Check out Chaplain John’s book: Remember Me: End of Life as Seen through the Eyes of a Hospice Chaplain: Kirn Wenderlein 111, John Kirn: 9798890742575: Amazon.com: Books

Read more from John A Hospice Chaplain’s Heart: Miss Lilly’s Story – Open to Hope

 

John Wenderlein

I currently live in Central Florida with my wife, Melinda. Have a Doc degree in Education. I currently work with a hospice group in Central Florida. I have written two books and am working on my third. And will have a fourth in me sometime next year.

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