"I Heard You Praying"

As a hospital chaplain, I had seen hopeless cases. But never one more seemingly hopeless than this

- ADAM RUIZ

I was the chaplain on duty that Friday night. I leaned over the nurse's station on the surgical intensive care unit to get briefed on the patient awaiting me in Room 1.

"The paramedics brought her in earlier today with a gunshot wound to the head," the nurse said. "She's out of surgery. Her parents are here and asked for a chaplain. She's in an induced coma. She's not going to live. And if by some miracle she does..." Her voice trailed off, but after three years working at Louisville's only level 1 trauma center, I'd seen my share of gunshot victims and knew the tragedy that was unfolding. What comfort could I offer this family?

I headed to Room 1, my steps slow and deliberate. Part of my training was that it was okay not to rush into these situations. To be intentional and seek God's guidance. Sometimes I still wondered whether I was cut out to be a hospital chaplain, whether I was really helping people when my work left me with spiritual questions of my own.

A professor at seminary had suggested this path because of my experience with a life-threatening illness. I'd had a brain tumor as a teenager and insistently prayed for immediate healing. Instead, I suffered deafness and severe balance issues. Eventually the tumor was successfully removed, but my other afflictions remained for years. My prayers changed from demanding a miracle to surrendering to God's plan for me. It was then that I was able to live a full life again-a miracle I hadn't expected. I entered seminary wanting to give others the hope I had found.

That was what I tried to bring to the patients and families I met with. Hope. Not for a miracle healing, but that they feel God's presence whatever the outcome.