March 18, 2004
Hospital calls
Don’t make many hospital calls, just when somebody else can’t or won’t or when it’s more or less expected. The last motive was in play yesterday when I stopped by a local dispensary to see a friend. I took the reserved sacrament and a purple stole and a prayer book.
My friend had checked out, so I looked up the chaplain’s office (aka suite) to see if maybe there were any stray Episcopalians down on their health. The secretary fumbled with a Rolodex, and said, “There aren’t any.” Then she paused, looked me up and down, said, “Are you a minister?”
I admit, I looked pretty scruffy. No clericals, two-day beard, ball cap from Brit’s Pub in Minneapolis, moth-eaten favorite sweater, running shoes. But I did wear a cross that came from the National Cathedral Book Store, and I had Jesus with me. I never even thought of shaking the dust off my feet.
What more could she want?