It all began

with a feeling I had last summer that something was not right.  I should have been happy.  I had a steady job, had completed a year of grad school, was healthy and getting by financially.  I had applied for and gotten the job I had wanted for many months.  Yet something was nagging me in the back of my mind constantly.  It all felt WRONG.

On a late summer day, I suddenly went and filled out an application for a job in hospice nursing.  It was terribly unlike me.  I had worked at my current job for nine years.  I was dependable, responsible and loyal. And yet, the second I let go of the envelope that held my resume and application and let it drop into the abyss of the mail box I knew.  It was the right choice.

Now, I have been in hospice for about nine months.  I LOVE my job.  I feel fortunate every single day that I can meet and be with so many fine and wonderfully delightful people and I get paid to do it.  Today, while reading a book on the monastery life, as I jealously wished I could live in a cell and think of nothing but praise for God and His creations, I realized that I can.  I can write down these things I do every day and LIVE the life of a thankful monastery monk. 

The stories will be true, but of course, all names, places, dates, etc., must necessarily be changed to protect the confidentiality of the patients and family members.  Perhaps no place on earth can you feel the presence of God more than in the presence of the dying.  The transition between this world and the next is palpable and surprisingly, comforting to those of us left behind.