This post was written by Brenna Brown, staff chaplain, Parkview Health.
Growing up, I always imagined myself working at a hospital. My dad is a firefighter (and was a paramedic for most of my life), and my mom, a physical therapist assistant. I grew up making trips to the fire station and the hospital to visit my parents and admiring the care and service they provided to our community.
I heard heartfelt stories about people my parents helped but also witnessed the grief they wrestled with at home following an unexpected death of a patient or a traumatic pediatric call that didn’t end well. Perhaps it was the way they were able to comfort and support one another on the hard days, or the fact that I knew the impact they were making was greater than the sadness they were exposed to, but the view from childhood never deterred me from wanting to enter the medical field as an adult.
The turning point
In 2021, I started college as an Exercise Science major with plans of going to PA school. I had spent a lot of time researching different healthcare careers, generally enjoyed my classes and felt like it was the right path for me. That is, until I experienced a unique encounter during an evening chapel service that changed my life.
If you’ve ever had the Lord speak to you, you are probably aware of how difficult it can be to explain that encounter, but I knew for certain that He had different plans for me. I was called to ministry and had no idea what that looked like for me, but I stepped out in faith and changed my major the following semester.
Awhile after my change in studies, my mom asked me if I had ever considered being a hospital chaplain. During the pandemic, I often spoke with my mom about her work and the secondhand grief she was experiencing during such a tragic time. I had never considered chaplaincy before that point, but she told me she thought it would be a great fit for me, suiting my personality, gifts and calling. I remember thinking – and saying in my Parkview Summer Intern interview – “Maybe instead of physically caring for those who are sick in the hospital, I am meant to care for them spiritually?” While this remains true, my “why” for working in this role has only grown deeper.
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” - Matthew 25:35-45
Fulfilling the call
One evening I responded to a particularly sudden and tragic ER death. Every death is sad and hard, but certain ones hit in a unique way. For me, this situation was one of them. I was heartbroken for the patient’s young granddaughter who shared with me that it was her birthday. I remember pausing in the hallway, taking a deep breathe, and thinking to myself, “What am I doing here?” Not why am I here, but what am I doing? What can someone do to rectify a situation like this?
I did whatever I could think of; brought the family waters and tissues, worked to connect them with medical staff for updates, answered their questions about next steps and prayed with them. None of this changed the outcome of what happened, and nothing I do in my job will ever be able to, so what am I doing here? It was one of the first and few times I questioned if I could do this job or if I even wanted to.
Not long after that moment alone in the hallway, I returned to bedside to check back in with the family. I was standing next to the young birthday girl, and she looked up at me to ask a question. She wanted to know what my job was called, so I told her that I’m a hospital chaplain. After answering, she stared me in the eyes, nodded her head and confidently said, “I want to be a chaplain when I grow up.” Those words combatted every negative thought I had about the inefficacy or unimportance of this work in that harrowing moment.
Visiting the sick, giving water to a family member at a code, or a sack lunch to someone in the ER who hasn’t eaten all day – that is being the hands and feet of Jesus and what we are called to do. It still brings me to tears to think that this young girl, who likely just experienced the greatest tragedy of her preteen life, could have been moved in that type of way. Every day as I walk into work, I pray that people will not encounter me, but rather Christ through me.
I know that it is not the power of my words or actions that will bring comfort or peace, but the Spirit of Christ working through me. I do what I do for that little girl, for the scared hospice patient and the nurse taking a moment to cry after losing her patient who was just talking an hour ago. I do it for every patient, family member and co-worker I encounter. But it truly is not I, but Christ in me.
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