Thank You

“In ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in LETTERS AND PAPERS FROM PRISON

It took no time to realize I had my hands full, I was dealing with a character, a true character.

Extroverted, opinionated, with a full head of wild, white hair and a ready smile which he occasionally, with great effort and discomfort, raised his face enough to share. And it took no time to realize George was going to manage our time together. “Have a seat,” he instructed and launched into a recounting of what the last few harrowing weeks had been like for him; a whole series of debilitating and frustrating struggles with failing health. Finally, when he took a breath, concerned that perhaps we had not addressed the real reason for our visit and worried the pager might go off again at any second, I asked, “George, the nurse called and said you wanted a chaplain, is there something in particular you need to talk with me about.” “Oh,” he grinned, cantankerously, and I believe, even winked, “I told her I wanted to talk to someone about death and dying,” and laughed, “that got her attention.” But while frailty and mortality were on his mind, what he really needed yesterday was for someone to take some time and listen to him; to stop treating him like any other patient and hear his story. Too much to tell here, but a great deal of what he shared was about his son, born profoundly disabled, non verbal, and completely dependent. He wanted me to know how against the advice of doctors at Cleveland Clinic he personally cared for his son, shaping his professional life around being available and present, even moving to Tennessee from Chicago because his son could not tolerate the cold. And now in his eighties, George no longer had the strength, and his son would be going to a care facility for the first time. “It was inevitable,” he said with resignation, that great smile still covering his grief. But there was something about his tone which felt like an acknowledgment, maybe even a kind of fulfillment, absent even a hint of self-pity; “I did all I could do, I kept my promise.”

Obviously, I was privileged, as I so often am in my work; invited to stand for a few minutes on suddenly sacred ground, listening to a story of love and great sacrifice, a story which unavoidably challenges and changes the listener. I tried to tell George how grateful I was and that I would not forget this encounter, but like most great storytellers, he quickly responded with another story, this story. “A while back Michael and I went shopping in Aldi’s. I parked next to a big Lincoln and we went in and got a few things. When we came out I noticed there was a man sitting in the front passenger seat of the Lincoln with the window down. As I was loading stuff and helping Michael into the car the man said, ‘Thank you.’ Just, ‘thank you.’ I was startled and turned to the man, somewhat confused. ‘I have had a stroke,’ he explained. ‘My wife does everything for me. She drives, she shops, she does all the work around the house. She does everything for me. So, I always try to remember to tell her thank you. I try to tell her everyday.’” Then, George went on to say, “This man in the Lincoln, this total stranger, looked at Michael and said, ‘He wants to thank you. I know he can’t do it, but he wants to thank you. So, I am thanking you for him. Thank you.’”

Holy.

In this season of thanksgiving, in the midst of the chaos and bickering infesting our civil discourse, pay attention, fight for something good, for a reason to say thank you. With all the anxiety and loud distractions, you probably are not even aware how much you need to do it. Do it. It will change you, bless you. It will make you rich. It will heal this old, broken world.

Thank you, George, I needed that. Dan

Dan Hix presently serves as a chaplain with Turkey Creek Medical Center in Knoxville, Tennessee. He is originally from North Carolina and came to Knoxville in the fall of 1988, taking a position with the Baptist Healthsystem of East Tennessee. Dan received his Clinical Pastoral Training at Riverside Methodist Hospital in Columbus, Ohio and North Carolina Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem, NC. He is endorsed by The Cooperative Baptist Fellowship for hospital chaplaincy. Dan is a graduate of Wake Forest University and Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.