We sometimes have two chaplains working at a time. When pages come in, we take turns. The other day, there were three pages, close in time. The other chaplain took the first one. Two more arrived and it was, in essence, a coin flip. “I’ve got this,” she said, “And you can take that.”

I did, though it wasn’t my preference.

When I showed up, I knew a family member. I was the right person to offer support.

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Someone asked the other day about how to know what God wants us to do. I haven’t answered because I’ve been busy in the roles I’m in and the commitments I’ve made. I’m in work roles and family roles. I’ve said “yes” to doing these tasks and fulfilling the expectations of those commitments.

(Note: when I say “expectations”, I’m not using it in the often negative “always worrying about other people’s expectations.”)

What this looks like in practice is that as I’m part of the chaplain team for a particular shift, I work collaboratively with the rest of the team to support patients, families, and coworkers.

What this also often looks like is that as we work collaboratively, we often tell each other stories of being just the right person for the situation. We knew the family, we’ve had a similar experience, we can draw on our travels to establish credibility with a scared friend.

We’re not, as each page comes in, saying “Which of us does God will to handle this?” If we did, we would be derelict in our duty. We go. The first one ready, the next one ready, goes.  We do the work.

Yet in the going, sometimes, there is a surprising fit. The rest of the time, we are merely competent. Which is the right thing, too.

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About the photo. We usually smile.