Holy Communion

One of the services provided by hospice, along with nursing, social workers, physical therapists, and so on, is chaplaincy. Spiritual concerns are naturally a part of dealing with a terminal illness, and Chaplain David is there to help us and our family when we need spiritual or emotional support during the difficult days ahead. We have a wonderful and supportive pastor and church family involved, too, but it never hurts to accept help when offered. Since hospice chaplains serve hospice patients exclusively, they have a lot of experience caring for people in this specific situation.

One of the things that started weighing heavily on my heart recently was that my husband had been without the opportunity to have Holy Communion (Luke 22:19-20) for months. What with being transferred from place to place, hospital visits and stays, stress upon stress, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that it hadn't crossed my mind. So, when I requested chaplain support and met Chaplain David, one of the things I asked him about was Communion. Would he be able to do that for us? The answer was, "Yes, of course!"

We scheduled an appointment at the facility and sat, just the three of us, in the "quiet" sitting room. There are two sitting rooms in the L-shaped great room:  one with a television set and recliners, and this one with couches and a fireplace. The chaplain prepared the elements, all the while chatting to  keep my husband as engaged as possible. I held my husband's hand as the chaplain prayed. When the bread (a small wafer disk representing Christ's body, broken for us) was served, I took a piece for my husband and held it up for him to see. He opened his mouth, and I placed it on his tongue. I heard it crack as he bit it, and he clearly said, "Thank you." It was heartwarming.

Next we were served tiny cups containing the grape juice (representing Christ's blood, shed for us). I lifted the cup to my husband's lips so he could take a sip, then nervously wrapped his fingers around it so he could hold it himself. I watched him carefully to make sure he didn't spill it. He finished the juice and sat back, leaning against me. He closed his eyes and nodded his head. Was that a smile on his lips? "Glory," he said.

Glory. That is not a word he would ordinarily use, especially now that he's almost completely non-verbal. It was stunning. Did he see something in that moment? Did he hear something? What was going through his mind to prompt him to say that? I wish I knew. And someday I will.

Dear reader, perhaps you are a believer, and perhaps you aren't. Either way, something mysterious and spiritual happened for my husband and me that day as we shared the Lord's Supper. It was a gift from God that brought peace to my heart and rest to my mind. He is so, so good to us!