Encountering Christ in Others—Life's Journey Shared

This is a crazy time of year. My husband and I returned home to Vermont two weeks ago after a winter in North Carolina and now face the consequences of massive leaking in our living area from the weight of snow on our roof. I thank God that it was found and fixed while we were away. It was not cleaned, though, and nothing is where it was when we left. I am in recovery mode, feeling helpless and alone in the mess.

To my surprise, many people right now are feeling this, too, and their roofs didn’t leak. They use words like overwhelmed, overextended, drained, worried about things they can control and things they can’t. Schedules are disrupted for every kind of event…weddings, baptisms, graduations, funerals, new jobs, lost jobs, illnesses, the disruptions at the end-of-school-year routines and pending summer schedules yet to be formed.

I’ve had times in my life when I worried that I would get home at the end of the day and find that I had forgotten a child and have laughingly commiserated with a tired young mom saying the same thing. So far, neither of us has.

Right now there is not a clear flat surface in my home and that is after two weeks of trying to find one! Yesterday, my prayer consisted of, “Jesus, where are you? Would I even recognize you? I am not sure this is a teachable moment, so you might have to trip me to get my attention. Actually, with everything everywhere but where it should be, would you please keep me from tripping? Sorry to mix metaphors but I feel like I am drowning.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t face any more sheetrock dust or another pile needing a decision, I got a request from the hospital chaplain to sit with a patient who was dying. We have a Comfort Care program and volunteers sit with patients who are not in hospice and have no family or friends to be with them. The nurses do their best to spend as much time with them as they can but their caseload can prevent them from offering what they would like. This ministry supports the patients and the nurses. It is something I have done for much of my adult life and I cherish each opportunity.

My patient’s name was Monica and she was twenty years younger than me. The staff told me that she had been in the hospital for four days. Her small family was unable to care for her. She was at the end of her cancer journey but not alone. The hospital staff were offering compassionate care and the nurses’ relief, seeing me enter the room, allowed them time to put a burden down. Monica was unresponsive, breathing slowly and showed no evidence of any discomfort. The music she had told staff she liked when she was admitted was playing softly. Monica had mentioned to them that she was a people person and would be grateful if anyone would sit with her. We were there to honor that request. We spoke to her knowing that she would likely hear us although there was no change in her breathing patterns which sometimes indicate awareness.

For the next three hours, I sat by her bed, my left hand resting on her left arm, breathing with her. Her nose was running like a child’s with a cold. I instinctively took a tissue and wiped it…many times…trying to be as gentle as possible, telling her what I was doing.

Perhaps it was the frequent repetition of that simple task that caught my attention, but I found myself thinking of Veronica on the way to Calvary. She was doing the only thing she could, following as closely as possible, feeling helpless until the moment she wasn’t. Jesus was next to her and she instinctively reached out with her veil to wipe his face. She wasn’t able to fix anything or change anything, yet in that moment of presence, she was able to offer a breath of comfort.

Monica became the person of Christ for me. The sense of helplessness and overwhelm I was feeling about almost every part of my life mirrored what I saw in Jesus’ face when he saw Veronica. There were no words and none were needed. I was able to offer presence and care to Monica. We shared a breath of compassion, one giving and one receiving. It was such a small gesture, and it was enough.

In the hours that have followed, I am aware and grateful for breathing. The gift of Lamaze breathing companioned me in that hospital to birth my two sons’ beginnings, and there I was again, breathing with Monica as she labored through her body’s ending. I was grateful that she showed no evidence of pain or anxiety and was comforted by the gentle presence of the nursing staff. She was not alone, and neither was I. That was what Christ was reminding me. We find ourselves in difficult times of every kind and will find our way out of them. The blessing is the realization that we can offer or receive a breath, a moment of compassionate presence.

Going Deeper

• What if Christ comes to you today in the face of a random person, a stranger? What is Jesus teaching you? Who has shown you the face of Christ? How are you being invited to be a person for others in the people you meet? Pray for the grace of noticing Christ in your life and the gift of gratitude when you do. Read more about naming the grace shared by Ignatian Ministries’ founder Becky Eldredge.

• Since we are called to be contemplatives in action, what small actions can I offer to be present to the needs of another? I often draw a blank at this question and pray for the grace to notice the needs of others, to be aware of how I can be present to them. Reflect on the practice of finding God in others and community with this piece by previous Into the Deep contributor Kristen Schenk .

• Sabra Field designed a window (photo provided by Mary Ann Gessner) that I passed every day and evening during my two years of chaplaincy training at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center. It is located outside the Oncology Department. It has been a source of comfort to many thousands of patients, families and staff. Psalm 121 is often prayed before it. Regardless of the time of day or night we can look up and be at peace. Enjoy Mary Ann’s personal photo here.

Photo by Pixel Rich on Unsplash

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Mary Ann Gessner

Mary Ann Gessner has been a regular writing contributor to the Into the Deep blog. She maintains a private spiritual direction practice for monthly spiritual direction as well as the accompaniment of people through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. She has received her formation to serve in this capacity through the Lanteri Center with the Oblates of the Virgin Mary, Milton MA.