Beginnings and Endings - Thanksgiving Blessings

As we approach Thanksgiving I am incredibly grateful for many things, including two images that keep replaying in my mind. Both events happened recently in my role as a hospice chaplain. Both were deeply moving blessings at opposite ends of life’s continuum. 

The first took place in a rural, cosy farmhouse deep in Maryland’s arable land. 

My patient was an older man. His wife of fifty years was gently rocking their baby granddaughter in her arms. The child was nestled into her warmth, her safety, her love, and soon relaxed into sleep. 

The couple shared their life, their story. Being together for such a long time is sometimes a matter of courage and rugged endurance rather than hearts and roses. 

And then we all bowed our head to pray.

Suddenly I realized that the child had woken up, silently slid off her grandma’s lap, and was standing in front of me with her arms raised. I looked at her grandmother, who smiled, and so I lifted up the child who then immediately cuddled into me before playing with my glasses. The prayer didn’t stop throughout this. It flowed on. I don’t think my patient realized that there had been a changing of laps until later. 

I have never had a physical child of my own, although I have nephews and a niece whom I love. And I have had many spiritual sons and daughters - including my “big, bad boys” when I was chaplain in a men’s prison. So this child, coming to me in that way, clearly feeling so comfortable in my arms, while we were communing with the Almighty, deeply moved me. A loving blessing. A cuddly, kissable, unexpected package that melted my heart. 

The second image, that took place in a more urban setting, is of an British man in his nineties who had lost his wife a few months before. I knew them before she died. Theirs was a true, loving, adventure-filled union of over 60 years. 

We talked deeply. I played him music, English torch songs like The White Cliffs of Dover. His childhood favorite “The Grand Old Duke of York.” Classic British hymns sung by full-throated choirs such as “And Did Those Feet in Ancient Times Walk upon England’s Pastures Green?” We came to the last piece of music that he requested, Andrea Bocelli singing The Lord's Prayer

“Can  I hold your hand?” he said. 

And together, fingers linked, we listened to that glorious piece as heaven drew close to us and filled that room. I’m sure in his mind he was holding another British woman’s - his wife’s hand - while I was silently praying for peace, grace, and strength for him in the days ahead when he would no doubt be slipping through the veil. From life to real life. 

Both of those physical contacts in the midst of prayer - spoken and sung - were huge, meaningful blessings to me. From a child at the beginning of life, to a fellow countryman at the end of his. The Lord’s presence was rich and thick in both settings. 

It reminds me that the Lord promises us that He will always be with us in our beginnings and our endings - as well as in all our in betweens. He will never let us go, never leave or forsake us. 

No matter what you are feeling as Thanksgiving approaches - joy, trepidation, grief, excitement. Whether you will be surrounded by friends and family; celebrating by yourself, unwillingly or not; or grieving someone who is no longer there, may you feel the Lord’s love in unexpected, meaningful ways. 

May tangible blessings touch you. 

And may you know in deep, soul-warming ways, that you are loved, and never alone.