A friend was asking about how my chaplaincy training was going. I shared a few stories, and then after a pause she spoke.

 

"I wanted to be a chaplain." 

 

What?!? This widow, who had been at the bedside of her husbands when they passed, had aspired to visit the sick? 

 

"That was thirty years ago. There were actually ads in the paper looking for people to apply, and I started to. But my children told me not to. I wouldn't be safe." 

 

How about that. She had missed a chance that came by when she felt ready to step into it. Now it was out of reach. 

 

She went on to describe a time when she arrived at the hospital after one of her sons was hurt, and there was a chaplain waiting for her. It softened the blow.

 

I expect I will be given the chance to wait for a stranger as she bursts through the door, steeling herself for whatever comes next. At that moment I will think of my friend, and it might help me to believe that such an ordinary moment can offer a buffer. She never made it to chaplaincy, but perhaps she is content to know someone who will.

 

When I was in college, I planned a European adventure. Between terms, I wanted to fly across the sea and try out my fledgling German. But my parents talked me out of it. 

 

"You would not be safe," they told me. I never went. 

 

I am amazed that my twins did travel to Spain and France. It brings me joy to know that they were not held back. Maybe even more joy than if I had gone myself.