It seems that sometimes there in an arc embedded in an experience. When we went to church camp, Wednesday was the halfway point, and people got antsy. At some point, the directors decided to have an outing that day, to break up the mood that kept showing up. Then, the last half of the week could crescendo. 

I recall when my sister's family came to visit us in Florida. On the third day they said they were headed out for donuts and didn't come back until supper. Apparently they needed to chill. The rest of our time together went well. 

This week I did not want to catch the train for my overnight. I felt ornery about lost sleep, and wondered why I thought this was such a great idea in the first place. But my resolve to follow through on commitments is strong, and I was on time for the shift. 

The first woman I visited was a believer. She asked for a bible, which I had not brought with me. There was a stack back in the office, but I was reluctant to make the trek. So we recited. We both have passages on our hearts, and saying them in unison, two women who had never met and never will again, felt remarkable. 

The next woman had family with her, and was in good spirits. Better than mine had been on the train, and she was the one with bandages. She said that we needed to pray. 

"You first."

I was embarrassed to have forgotten her name since walking into the room, but still spoke to God about His love for this woman, and the plans He has for her. Then it was her turn. This woman was on a first name basis with her Creator, and talked as if they had left off their conversation just a moment ago. 

"Amen!" we said together. 

Later, my pager went off, alerting me to a request for a priest. I got in touch with him, and told him the room number. Although I was in the building, and he traveled on foot from the church, he beat me there. I am curious about that. When I walked in, he was anointing the woman in the bed, who was surrounded by people who cherish her. I had never been part of a Last Rites before, and it felt sacred. After he left, I lingered with the family to hear about this grandmother's rich life. They had stories about her generosity, and poise. There was no regret about her passing. Her life had been blessed. 

Walking back to the office, I felt calmer. My irritations had dissolved like sugar in hot tea. The sweetness of those interactions was more restful than sleep.

There are still nine weeks of training ahead of me. But maybe, the mixed bag of feelings does not deplete the value of doing it.