Chapter Seventy-Five

Three-thirty in the morning, the phone rang. Even though the volume had been turned down so as not to disturb the other residents, Father Engelmann heard the ring. In fact, he was already awake thinking about the sealed envelope on the night table which held the information he needed to fulfill Jenny’s heartfelt wishes and prayers.

He rolled over towards his night table and thrust his hand through the darkness of the room towards the phone.

“Yes, this is Father Engelmann,” Father whispered quietly into the phone.

“Good morning, Father, this is Chloe, I’m Jenny’s niece at the Santa Maria Home. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, yes, what is it, Chloe?”

“I am so sorry to wake you at this time, but Auntie Jenny has been asking for you since midnight. She would like you to come and give her the last rites. I wouldn’t have called you, but she is so agitated and gravely ill.”

“Yes, it was good of you to call me, Chloe. I will be over very shortly.”

The dial tone pierced the stillness of the night. It was an eerie sound, almost like the steady tone of a cardiac monitor when the heart of a patient stops beating. He had heard that sound many times over the years when tending to his sheep and they had passed on to meet their Shepherd. Father got up and sat on the edge of his bed, still holding on to the phone. A soft peaceful glow filled the room as he instinctively reached for the lamp switch with his free hand and turned on the light.

It was about this time – though usually a half-hour or so later – that Father would get up to begin his morning prayers and meditation. The reading of his breviary would have to wait until later in the morning. While still holding the receiver, Father gazed at the envelope Jennifer had given him for a long moment and then called for a taxi. That done, Father hung up the phone and dressed. In the closet was a small black satchel he hadn’t needed for almost four months. After checking its contents, he closed the leather bag, then switched off his lamp and left the room.

He passed the front door as he detoured to the chapel.

“Good morning, Lord.” At the foot of the altar, Father genuflected and made the sign of the cross. Then he stood and walked over to the altar, put his bag down and opened it. A small brass vessel immediately shone inside the bag as it was caught by the overhead light. He took out the little shiny container, unscrewed it, and went over to the tabernacle. The key was still in the keyhole, Father unlocked the curved door and took out the ciborium which had several consecrated Hosts from the previous day’s mass. He lifted the arched cover of the cup and reverently bowed his head at the mere sight of the round white flattened bread.

“This is the body of Christ,” he said, under his breath and made the sign of the cross. He placed one of the hosts into the brass container, returned the chalice to its holy chambers and the small vessel to his satchel.

Just as Father reached the front door, he saw the lights of a car approaching. “Ah, that was good timing.”

The taxi driver leaned over and opened the passenger door just as Father was about to open it.

“Good morning, Father, I see you got the graveyard shift, too.”

“Good morning, Bill. Yes, someone is very ill and needs last rites.”

Father reflected on Bill’s remark.…“graveyard shift.” Everything so far that morning had been so ominous – the chilling sound of the telephone dial tone and now Bill’s comment, all suggesting death. Father hoped it was not a foreshadowing of what was to come as he settled restlessly into the seat. His head jerked back as the cab sped off.

“Well, Father, the only good thing is every time someone dies, someone is being born. There is joy and sadness going on all the time.”

“Yes, that is true, Bill, but there is joy in death, too. It’s a time when all suffering is gone, all the cares are over and we enter into our final eternal home with our Lord. It is truly a time to celebrate.”

After a lengthy reflective moment, Bill responded, “Yeah, I suppose so, never thought about it in that way… Hmm, joy and celebration in dying.”

They remained silent for the rest of the trip. Father was praying for Marjorie or…Jenny…Hamilton. What was it that was tugging on his memory? The name…and what was it that Camilla said yesterday about her being adopted…?

“Good morning, John,” Father greeted the night attendant at the front reception desk.

“And, good morning to you, too, Father. Up and at it early today, I see.”

“Yes, yes, there is always a need, John.”

Nurse Dolan, looked up towards the elevators, when she heard the bell sound. The doors of the elevator opened and Father Engelmann emerged. If it were not for the white collar, one could have mistaken him for an old-time country doctor carrying his medicine bag, making an early morning house call. In a sense, Father was a doctor, only his satchel carried medicine not so much for the body, but more so for the soul.

“Good morning, Father, thank you for coming,” said Betty, with a smile.

“Good morning, Betty. Is Jenny still in room 455?” Father asked, as he whizzed by.

“Yes, she is awake and waiting for you. She seemed so happy to learn you were coming. Her two friends are with her as well.”

When Father entered Jenny Hamilton’s room, he expected to see a monitor or at least an intravenous tube going to Jenny’s body, but there was nothing. Then he remembered helping Jenny sign some papers, last week, terminating all life support equipment when the end was near; she wanted to die naturally.

Chloe and Matilda were seated on the other side of the bed leaving the side nearest the door for Father.

“Hi Father,” said Chloe.

“That was good of you to come,” said Matti. “You be a tireless worker for the Lord, that for sure. Be it best to go to the waiting room or can we stay…?” Matti wanted to know.

“You both can stay if you wish. Jenny knows you are here and feels your love and support.”

Father simply nodded as he looked down on Jennifer. The lamp on the end table cast a soft glow on Jenny’s sleeping face. Father walked over to Jenny’s bedside, put his satchel on the chair then gazed down at her. Jenny was a very beautiful lady, wanting so much to love and be loved. It was at times like this, when he saw how sickness and suffering took hold of a life and sapped it for all its worth, that he dared to question God’s wisdom in it all. How Jenny fought the disease, day after day, until finally there was just no strength left.

Father felt himself sinking and quickly reminded himself of a passage, “My ways are not your ways,” and that, immediately put a stop to such thinking. To further reinforce his defensive thoughts, he recalled other passages to combat his moment of weakness. Father had learned over and over in his lifetime that one must be ever ready to do battle and have a plan in place. Softly, Father began to recite scriptures of comfort:

“We have an everlasting home in heaven.

We shall be with the Lord forever.

We shall see God as He really is.

The Lord is my light and my salvation……

And each time Father quoted a passage, he identified their references …2 Corinthians 5:1, 1 Thessalonians 4:17, 1 John 3:2, Psalm 27:1…

To you Lord, I lift up my soul. Psalm 25:1

Though I walk in the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

For you are with me…Psalm 23:4.

Come…

Jenny moaned and opened her eyes.

“What a beautiful sight to wake up to, Father.” Her voice was low and hoarse. She gazed lovingly at Father and he did likewise towards her. A deep love and friendship had developed over the few weeks he had visited her. Father would have given anything to see Jenny get well. She was included in every mass he’d said from the very first day he saw her. No, in fact, from the day he was given her name as a patient to visit from the director of the care home he had been praying for her. Everyday he pleaded with the Lord to heal her…until Father relented: not my will, but Your will be done.

Her gaze held so much suffering. Father reached out and laid his hand over hers. She was too weak to respond, she only smiled and nodded her head ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Father, for coming. I feel the Lord is coming to get me, today.”

Father just looked down at Jenny and smiled. After a brief moment, he said, “I would like to anoint you with holy oil, Jenny. I also brought communion for you.”

“Oh, thank you, Father, I was hoping you would.”

Father turned towards the chair, opened up his satchel and took out a small jar containing oil, opened it and placed it on the night table. He did the same with the brass vessel that had the Host. Next came the white vestment scarf which he kissed and put around his neck. Finally he retrieved his Pastoral Care Book and opened it to a place marked by different coloured ribbons.

Wearing a warm compassionate smile, he looked down at Jenny, hoping that what he was about to do would offer her hope and instill some measure of faith. Over the past years, he had witnessed many miraculous healings. His reminder of some of those healings, prompted Father to say the prayer of faith. He bowed his head and, in a tone which was barely audible, he said, “Oh, heavenly Father, in James 5:14-16, you told us that when one is sick, that we should pray for them and pour oil on them, anointing them in your name. If it is in your will, oh Lord, I ask that you restore Jenny to health.”

“Yes, Lord, we be claiming your promise…” Matti said with conviction.

He knew Jenny was on the verge of death, yet, he believed all things were possible through Christ.

Father’s gaze returned to the open book before him and he began the last rites:

“We have come together, oh Father, to celebrate the sacraments of anointing and Eucharist. Christ is always present when we gather in his name. Today, we welcome Him, especially as Physician and Healer. We pray that Jenny may be restored to health by the gift of Your mercy and made whole in her fullness.”

Once again, Matti, said, “Yes, you be the great Physician and Healer. Come now sweet Jesus, do your healing…”

Father stopped for a moment and looked down at Jenny. Her eyes were closed. Father did not know if she was asleep or awake. He continued to pray.

“Father, you raised your Son’s cross as the sign of victory and life. May all who share in His suffering find in these sacraments a source of fresh courage and healing. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.”

“Amen,” came Jenny’s weakened voice from the bed.

“Amen, amen!” echoed Matti.

Once again, Father looked at Jenny and warmly smiled. She half-opened her eyes and reflected his love. Father decided to shorten the liturgy of anointing, skipped the next few prayers, and got right to the anointing itself. He could see it took all of Jenny’s effort just to stay awake.

He held the book in his left hand then placed his right on Jenny’s forehead:

“Praise to you, God, the Almighty Father. You sent your Son to live amongst us and bring us salvation. Praise to you, God, the only-begotten Son. You humbled yourself to share in our humanity and you heal our infirmities. Praise to you, God, the Holy Spirit, the Consoler. Your unfailing power gives us strength in our bodily weakness. God of mercy, ease the sufferings and comfort the weakness of your servant, Jenny, whom the church anoints with this holy oil. We ask this through Christ our Lord.”

And, once again, Jenny surprised Father with, “Amen.”

“Oh, yes sweet Lord, Hallelujah.”

Turning to the end table, Father took out the cotton which was in contact with oil in the jar. It had already been blessed by the bishop of the archdiocese on Holy Thursday prior to Easter Sunday especially for that purpose, but Father so desired Jenny healed that he blessed the oil again for added measure. Father began to fervently pray from memory for blessings and healings. With each request Father asked for, Matilda added “Yes, Jesus, you be doing it now…”

“Oh God,” Father began, “of all consolation, you chose and sent your Son to heal the world. Graciously listen to our prayer of faith; send the power of your Holy Spirit, the Consoler, into this precious oil, this soothing ointment, this rich gift, this fruit of the earth. Bless this oil (over which Father made the sign of the cross) and sanctify it for our use. Make this oil a remedy for all who are anointed with it; heal them in body, in soul, and in spirit, and deliver them from every affliction. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy spirit, one God, for ever and ever…”

And a very weak, but appreciative voice from the bed responded, “Amen.”

“Amen, thank you sweet Jesus,” Matti whispered.

Father squeezed the cotton, releasing oil onto his thumb and forefinger, then anointed Jenny’s forehead with oil, making the sign of the cross and said, “Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen,” said Jenny attentively.

Father anointed Jenny’s hands with oil as well.

“May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.”

“Amen,” said Jenny, her voice no longer audible.

Matti answered for her dear beloved friend, “Amen…”

Father stood erect and returned his gaze to the pastoral book to say the prayer after the anointing.

“Let us pray:

“Lord Jesus Christ, you chose to share our human nature, to redeem all people, and to heal the sick.

Look with compassion upon your servant, Jenny, whom we have anointed in your name with this holy oil for the healing of her body and spirit.

“Yes, sweet Jesus…”

“Support her with your power, comfort her with your protection, and give her the strength to fight against evil.

“You be strong now, Jenny, Jesus here to help you…”

“Since you have given her a share in your own passion, help her to find hope in suffering, for you are Lord for ever and ever…”

“Yes, our comfort may be hurting, but our joy for you Jenny be filled with praise!”

Father waited for Jenny’s response, but there was none. He looked over his book and down on Jenny. Her eyes were closed. Again, it was impossible to tell if she were awake or asleep.

Holy Communion was next, but he didn’t know if he should disturb her or not. Her chest slowly rose and fell; there was still time for the Eucharist. Perhaps she should rest. Father decided to say the Lord’s Prayer. Both Chloe and Matti joined in:

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from all evil—”

“Amen,” said Jenny, startling Father and the other ladies.

“I am so happy to see you awake, Jenny, would you like to receive communion?” Father asked, before she could drift away again.

“Yes,” said Jenny softly, nodding her head ever so slightly.

Father quickly returned his attention to the end table and picked up the brass container with the Host. He turned back to Jenny, took out the Host and raised it up.

Jenny stared at the Host as Father said:

“This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

Come to me, all you who labour and are burdened, and I will refresh you.”

As Father lowered the host and brought it towards Jenny, she responded, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you…but only say the word and I…shall be healed.”

It touched Father’s heart to see the immense effort Jenny exerted in saying those words. Tears filled his eyes as he placed the Host on her parched tongue. Both Chloe and Matti were sobbing.

“The body of Christ,” was all Father could say, he was too choked up to say any more.

Jenny received her Lord and closed her eyes. She was spent. Every ounce of energy, gone.

Father straightened himself and turned towards the night table. He put the lids back onto both vessels and returned them to the satchel then removed the vestment; he kissed the cross on it and returned it to the bag as well. Once more he picked up the book and said a prayer which follows communion:

“All powerful God, through the paschal mystery of Christ your son you have completed the work of our redemption.

May we, who in these sacramental signs proclaim his death and resurrection, grow in the experience of your saving power.

We ask this through Christ our Lord…”

Father waited for Jenny’s response, but there was only the sound of very shallow breathing. Father continued:

“All powerful God, we thank you for the nourishment you give us through your holy gift.

Pour out your Spirit upon us and in the strength of this food from heaven keep us single-minded in your service.

We ask this in the name of Jesus the Lord…”

“Amen…” this time Matti completed the response for Jenny.

“All powerful and ever-living God, may the body and blood of Christ your Son be for our sister, Jenny, a lasting remedy for body and soul.

We ask this through Christ our Lord…Amen.”

“Amen, and I be saying it again, Amen…sweep your healing into this child oh Lord…” said Matti, before she broke down again.

Father slowly closed the book and brought it towards his chest. He looked lovingly at Jenny. He felt as drained as Jenny appeared. The sorrows of earthly life had deeply pierced his heart. Tears rolled down his cheeks and fell upon the book, wrinkling more pages. He likened it to the time when Jesus came to the tomb of Lazarus, his beloved friend, and was so moved that He restored Lazarus’s life. Father, too, loved Jenny, he now pleaded with all his being that the good Lord might do the same…to heal her, make her whole.

What Father saw before him, however, was a far cry from a miracle. Jenny was dying and he felt helpless, but to trust in the Lord. His heart ached so it threatened to break. Energy had left him only adding to the weariness he’d been feeling lately.

Father slowly raised his right hand and blessed Jenny.

“May the Lord be with you and protect you. May He guide you and give you strength.

“May He watch over you, keep you in His care, and bless you with His peace.

“And may almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit…”

Father waited a moment, hopeful for a response then said, “Amen.”

It was finished. Father placed his book into his satchel and closed it. He set the bag on the floor and pulled the chair up beside Jenny’s bed and sat down. Fatigue and exhaustion overwhelmed him. He knew he should go home and rest, but he couldn’t leave her side. He placed his hand over Jenny’s and began reciting scriptural passages as he had when he entered the room:

“I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

Come, blessed of my Father, says the Lord Jesus, and take possession of the kingdom prepared for you… Matthew 25:34

The Lord Jesus says, today you will be with me in paradise. Luke 23:43

In my Father’s home there are many dwelling places, says the Lord Jesus. John 14:2

The Lord Jesus says, I go to prepare a place for you and I will come again…to…take you myself…John…”

Father could barely go on, his heart felt too heavy. He recalled when Anna died how he lain on the bed after the attendants removed Anna’s body.

Now, for the second time in his life, Father cried out as he did then, “Oh Father in heaven, come and take me, too…” He hung his head and sobbed.

Father felt someone’s hand on his shoulder, slowly nudging him…

“Father, Father, I think you need some rest.”

Father looked up at Dr. Kreake looking down at him.

“Oh, good morning, doctor, I must have dozed off.”

Father stood and shook Dr. Kreake’s hand. “How is our Jenny doing?” inquired Father, knowing the answer and yet wanting to make conversation.

Dr. Kreake just shook his head.

“I just came to check on her before I made my morning rounds. She is refusing all medication and life support.”

Father slowly shook his head, “She is ready to see her Lord.”

There was a lengthy silence. Father looked at his wrist watch, “Oh my, it’s only 6:00 a.m.. You do get started early.”

“Well, I must admit, I am earlier than usual, today. Jenny hasn’t been well. I wanted to see her before I got started.”

“Yes, I understand, I want to be with her and support her as well. She is such a lovely lady.”

Dr. Kreake smiled then moved to Jenny’s bedside.

Chloe and Matti were standing on the other side of Jenny’s bed, tears flowing from their eye’s. Matti’s rapidly moving lips, although silent, reflected fervidness.

Father didn’t even know the ladies were still present in the room until he felt the power of Matilda’s faith…

“Ah, good morning girls. I see you are both still here.”

“It’s good to be here, Father, beside my sister’s side. Oh my sweet Jesus is going to heal Jenny. I just knows it…”

Chloe remained silent as her hand softly assuaged Jenny’s shoulder.

Father nodded and said, “Well, I best be going.” Father picked up his satchel, turned to Jenny and stared for a long time. Her left hand must have found its way up to her chest while he was asleep. She was clutching onto her pewter guardian angel. She was still wishing for someone to come and give her a kiss. It reminded Father of the envelope Jenny had given him.

He’d struggled for hours the evening before deciding whether to open it or not and find out who her first love was. Perhaps he would peek into the envelope…it could be part of the Lord’s plan.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. If it is your will oh Lord, restore Jenny. Bring back her health and life. Let her serve you a little while longer…if it is your will… “God be with you,” he whispered then turned and walked out.

Father walked wearily down the hospital corridor, completely drained and exhausted. How deeply he prayed for a healing, a miracle. He had given it his all, but it was not meant to be. Nurses, doctors and aides bustled back and forth tending to their duties. Father was oblivious to it all. He felt in his heart that the end was near, but not only for Jenny.

A brightness glowed about him as he trudged along.