Soft Souls and Nomads

I'll call him Curtis. He's the patient the hospital called me to visit on Sunday. That was the day he asked for someone with whom he could talk and pray. He felt alone, estranged from his son and daughter and separated from his brother and sister who had their own lives. We talked, we prayed, and the next day when I went to visit him, he was smiling. He had received calls from his brother, his sister, his son and his daughter. Today he was transferred to a nursing home. It is expected he will be there until the end of his journey and it is expected that won't be too far in the future. He just says, "God knows." I went to visit him in the nursing home, two towns away, in another county. I arrived late in the evening, "playing the clergy card" to get in after-hours. The staff knew I was on my way. "Curtis" greeted me with a deep hug. He told me his daughter and four granddaughters had come to see him that afternoon. Thank You for listening, God. He talked with his brother and sister. Their lives are different from his. They have expensive homes and comfortable lives, things that were never part of his experience. "Some souls are nomads," I said, "journeying through this life. Nomads see things that city-dwellers will never understand." He looks like a nomad, and he seemed to relate to the idea. I told him about a parish where i did mission work once in the Dominican Republic, Jesus Pellegrino. "Jesus the Pilgrim." Curtis strikes me as a pilgrim on this journey. I think that accounts for his deep love of spirituals and old hymns. He told me it wasn't his work to be like his brother and sister. It was his work to be a "soft soul," the one that ministers to others. I loved that description. Lord, teach me too to be a soft soul on this pilgrimage!