Blessings The text was short and clear:  “Amy, we have an eleventh hour request for the Father.”  HIPAA laws prevent us from using hospice patients’ names in such communications.  But “the Father” was the only identifier you ever needed anyway. The first time I met you, you glanced up at me from your wheelchair.  “What can I do for you?” you asked.  “No, Father.  I am here for you.”  You paused, entirely confused by my answer and replied, “How about a blessing then?”  And you raised your arm robed in burgundy terrycloth (the vestments of the sick rather than those … Continue reading Blessings