Most of the time, being queer just doesn’t factor into the chaplaincy equation. I often tell people it’s the oddest job I can imagine, since on any given day my work will range from talking about the weather, to holding someone’s hand while they get an IV, to baptizing a dying child, to doing breathing exercises for pain management, to prayer and meditation, to scripture reading, to fetching ice, to celebrating the birth of a healthy baby, to hearing stories of the dying. See, I currently serve as a chaplain at a trauma hospital in Atlanta, GA. He looked at me hard in the face, “Are you married?” After “amens” were said, I asked him if there was someone he would like me to call and notify that he was here. I held his hand as he poured out deep and utter gratitude to God for having spared his life. I had been at his bedside only a fraction of a second when he reached out his hand and announced we were going to pray. I was in the trauma bay with Jay following his motorcycle accident.
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