My favorite Gold Creek trail was damaged in one of the 2024 storms that swept through Juneau and altered the creek with a deluge of boulders, rocks and uprooted trees. You could only walk about 100 yards before the alders blocked the route.
I didn’t venture there again until recently. Imagine my surprise when the dogs disappeared down the trail and this time, with wind blowing leaves to the ground, I could see clearly that the trail had been restored. Someone had cut off branches that impeded travel and without leaves to blur the way, I could easily find the new route.
I felt a delightful sense of discovery, for here was an old, familiar trail now accessible on a frosty fall morning. Even though I knew where I was going, the newness of the path energized me. I moved forward with a smile.
Spiritual care offered through hospice can be a lot like finding an old soul trail, but with new twists and turns.
When you begin to face death it can often feel like the leaves of one’s vibrant tree of life are falling far too quickly and your path looks unfamiliar, the trail tangled from the storm of illness, disease or the inevitable turning of the seasons. It seems dangerous to venture further into the alder brush where one could be further injured. You feel so alone and unsure.
But at some point, you may have an opportunity to assess the loss of leaves and branches in your life journey, and note with surprise that you can see your path more clearly now the debris is gone. Is it the exact same path you traveled all these years? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But you intuitively know the way home as fall gives way to winter.
Think of your hospice chaplain as a fellow hiker. While we can’t make the journey for you, we can listen carefully to your story of traveling through life. We can walk with you at your pace, perhaps pointing out a few game trails you could explore, but always following your lead.
When I was interning at St. Christopher’s Hospice in London, I learned about founder Dame Cicely Saunders’ philosophy of “total pain” and its treatment.
Saunders observed that there are physical, psychological, social and spiritual components to end of life pain that the patient can experience. She saw the spiritual side of palliative care as being open to “finding the key to the personhood of the dying.” Love is the way through, given in care, thoughtfulness, prayer and silence.
Most of my time spent with hospice patients or their caregivers is listening. Listening to what is being said, and sometimes, more importantly, what is not being said. Some people think one has to be religious to be spiritual. But I have found that spiritual pain can be deeply connected to pain as a whole — yes, even for those who have never gone to a church, left the church or even thought about religion. Sometimes, sitting with no judgment and no agenda, but deeply seeing that person, is all they need. And sometimes we cannot provide the healing every human being deserves. But we are present, witnessing their journey with compassion, and we stand with those they left behind.
Sometimes it takes a storm, a strong wind, or the inevitable turning of our seasons to see clearly where we are headed. Should you ever need hospice services, just know that we care for the whole person and can support you, on your terms, on your final foray into the woods.
• Claire Richardson is one of two Bartlett Regional Hospital hospice chaplains. They will both be on hand at the Friday, Dec. 13, “Light up a Life” celebration from 5-8 p.m. in the Bartlett Regional Hospital Atrium and Gallery, along with the hospice care team and volunteers.
