Many people have been encouraging about my aspirations to train as a chaplain. I am storing those messages up like acorns, as food for when the supply of energy dwindles. Which it will. 

One woman offered to give me her experience around what a chaplain should not say. She had my attention. 

Her examples stung. Hopefully enough to remind me when I am rushed and sleep-deprived, not to blurt out clichés that add to a patient's pain rather than diminish it. 

There are many clever means of erasing our mistakes. At least the ones on a screen or paper. Errors are part of the trajectory of learning, and teachers have been issuing pencils with pink erasers since the days of Dick and Jane. Keyboards have a delete button as standard issue. Every quilter I know has a favorite seam ripper. 

But spoken words are harder to negate. We can apologize, it is true. But sometimes the injury has already done its work. 

Next week I will meet with someone who was bruised in her efforts to volunteer. I need to hear what she experienced, if I hope to protect other people from being bunged up. 

The words "First, do no harm" have weight. They seem to lean into the possibility that God will bring healing, if we can stop whacking at the patient long enough. 

It echoes the essence of innocence. Which is as small and powerful as an acorn.