Retirement is defined as leaving a job and ceasing to actively work in paid employment. By 2020, I was already 66 and knew that the thought of retirement was certainly reasonable, but it still surprised me. Prayerfully, I decided I needed to listen to what I discerned as the Holy Spirit. I also did a lot of reading and asking questions. The bottom line, I learned, is that retirement is usually due to age or health concerns, or exhaustion combined with either (or both) age and health. There is also a spectrum of reasons in between all of these. I began to wonder where I fit into these categories. Many people choose semi-retirement, allowing better financial freedom while remaining in well-loved work. Early financial planning and saving for retirement are marvellous and recommended for good and right reasons. For me, planning and saving money was not possible. I can only describe myself as working poor throughout my adult life. I did my best and am proud of what I managed for myself and my children, but according to all the articles and advice, I should never retire. Looking at my bank accounts with a cold eye only resulted in one thought: working forever might have to be the way for me. However, I sensed from the Holy Spirit that I could not stop in that thought; I needed to look at retirement differently.

I was comfortable with the routines of my work life, and during the years of being a chaplain I had become more settled in being who I am, making me a better pastoral person. I had also found my place and home in the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine as a life-promised oblate. Alongside and in partnership with the Sisterhood, I make a self offering to God. I have found stability. I also have a commitment to grow and be open to transformation and all possibilities with God. I found a good and wonderful balance. I brought all of this into my pondering about retirement, and the joy of it helped me with my singular fear about finances. It also allowed me to listen very lightly to that consistent question I was receiving from people, “What will you do in retirement?” For many who are looking ahead at retirement, the doing is desirable or necessary to who they are, but I knew this was not so for me. I would include life review and practicing the daily Examen as vital to guidance in retirement planning.

In aging, my patience was becoming thin for the vagaries of professional chaplaincy. I was becoming cranky about hospital politics and the constant meetings about strategies and planning. I was unhappy, a realization that was a startling revelation. I wanted to bring constructive observations, participation and useful criticism to my place of work, but all I could muster were complaints and frustration. This was deeply tiring. The arthritis in my neck and hands became a daily accompaniment. I noticed my energy level dropping throughout the day and a fading ability to multi-task; naps and falling asleep on the sofa by 8 p.m. became the norm. I am a happy person, so I was becoming all too aware of these pressing physical and emotional concerns. I realized I was in the categories of age, health and exhaustion. I needed to retire.

I began on-call, part-time chaplaincy to make some needed money. Beyond the money, the time changed me. I discovered my vocation in the ministries of healing interwoven with the full-time job of healthcare chaplaincy. Being who I am and being able to have enough to provide a home was also part of my vocation. I did both. Some years it was a struggle but never one I was called to leave. As I contemplated retirement, I saw how I was content with having enough money, and not more. I looked at my bank accounts once again, still with a cold eye, and saw that what I had was what I needed. Aging in the job gave me stable finances, and I had a pension from the diocese. Retirement lessens expenses, and some expenses I have chosen to drop, with no regret. I feel blessed in this life.

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Spiritual care at St. John’s Rehab is a ministry of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine. The Sisters value a genuinely caring relationship with patients, staff and visitors. But how do we live this value in a pandemic, when the ways in which we are present become diminished?

All worship services at St. John’s Rehab were cancelled. All my group activities were cancelled. Both will continue to be cancelled. By mid-March, the hospital decided it was the safest for the Sisters to stay in the convent. I miss their presence and company in this work.

All volunteers were told to stay home. I was alone. I cannot go between units. It has become particularly difficult to meet our new admissions amidst transmission concerns and to prevent crowding in the halls. I ask for referrals to visit new patients. Any patient may request to see me.

I learned how to introduce myself as warmly as possible while wearing a mask and face shield – and often a gown and gloves, too. I was pleased to receive requests to take several patients out for walks on our grounds. I pushed the wheelchairs up and down the paths, stopping in the gardens so we could talk. But as patients were discharged and new patients admitted, I was not receiving as many referrals or requests as I would have wanted – not out of disregard for my work but more from pandemic exhaustion.

Then, in the last weeks of March, I was asked if I would accept re-deployment as a screener, at our one open door.

I did this every afternoon. This meant I could meet everyone who came in the door, including new admissions. Families and friends arrived for scheduled visits or to leave food and clean clothing. I came to know patients who were well enough (and mobile enough) to go outside on their own. I worked with, and developed relationships with, staff members whom I otherwise would not have. Nurses shared with me how it felt to work when half the patients on a unit have COVID-19. I was able to greet people with a friendly welcome in difficult times. I realized the mask and the plexiglass barrier were making no difference to my sense of who I was as a chaplain.

I was called to an elderly patient who had been injured in a car accident. With no visitors, she was extremely unhappy. At St. John’s Rehab, new beginnings and new possibilities are among our goals. Isolation and unhappiness are barriers to this healing journey. St. John’s worked to establish “window visits” so patients and loved ones could see and hear each other. What this patient did not know was that her husband had died suddenly at home. That news could not be given through a window.

With PPE and physical distancing in place, her daughter was welcomed onto the unit and into her mother’s room to give her the news. I asked this patient afterwards if she and I might have a service of remembrance together in her room. A look of deep gratitude was all the response I needed.

A patient made a request to say prayers for a friend of his who is dying. The patient was blind and therefore confined to his bed-space. After prayer, he told me about feeling the shadow of depression. I took him outside and described the trees and the grounds. Experiencing his joy was a profound healing for both of us.

St. John’s has had only one outbreak between patients. All of our other patients with COVID-19 are admitted with the diagnosis and cared for with strict and safe protocols. Being in the hospital magnifies the fear and concerns of a pandemic. I feel helpless, as these patients cannot be visited. If the patient has a direct request, I visit using an iPad. Yet I heard clearly that patients are uncomfortable with the chaplain greeting them for the first time via an iPad. I now want to study and teach new skills for chaplaincy on devices.

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