Holding Court

The Chaplain Meets a Psychic

My relationships with patients in the hospital are generally short-term, but once in a while, I will get to know a patient well over time. We used to call these patients “frequent flyers”, but such a moniker cannot possibly be politically correct. Recently, I heard someone suggest the term “alumni'' although that doesn’t do these relationships justice either. There are some patients, especially in smaller community hospitals, who become a part of the institution. 

Ruby was one such patient. At ninety-four, with only one eye and one ear that remained functional, she would be admitted to the hospital every 2-3 months. She would be on the same floor, usually the same room if it could be managed, a rare and coveted private room. The private room was not due to any medical necessity, but simply because she was the most popular patient in the hospital.

Word had gotten out that Ruby was a psychic.

That’s not how she would state it. People with similar gifts might prefer the term prophet, clairvoyant, medium or intuitive. But “Psychic on the 5^th floor” is what the rumors claimed. A flittering excitement filled the staff whenever Ruby was admitted. She was a celebrity. There was always a line of staff members outside her door, waiting to talk to her.

One nurse told me that she had been debating buying a car. She was concerned about the financial commitment. Ruby convinced her it would not be a problem and she would be secure. The next week a relative the nurse didn’t know left her money from their estate which covered the cost of the car and then some.  

Ruby also doled out relationship advice. “You’re way too good for him and you will find better” and “keep up with the frogs, the prince is around the corner” were common refrains.

Ruby conducted all these audiences while seated on her commode (a bedside toilet chair). She had gastrointestinal issues, which kept her there throughout the day. She would be defecating while doling out advice and divinations. When asked if she wanted a moment of privacy, she would respond, “It’s just my tum-tum troubles, never you mind.” She called the commode her throne and she was holding court.

Before I met Ruby, I had already heard the lore. Frankly, I was concerned by the number of nurses, techs and others who were not giving her a moment’s peace. I felt protective over this geriatric psychic I had heard about.

When I finally elbowed my way into vist with her, Ruby wanted to tell me about my future too. I redirected her, stating that I was interested in how she was doing emotionally, especially with round the clock visitation from strangers wanting something from her.

Over time, Ruby shared with me that her mother had told her never to tell anyone what she could “see.” This felt wrong to her, but she obliged. Her mother had the “gift” too. But after her mother’s death, she didn’t think she needed to keep that promise anymore. She began telling others what she saw. She enjoyed the constant parade of attention and felt deeply lonely when she was at home by herself.

I worried this attention was draining her, but the opposite was true. It was life-giving. Ruby confessed to me that she knew when bad things were going to happen as well, but she never shared those predictions with people. She preferred that people left her room happy, so she focused on the positive. She wanted to give people something that they could hold on and have hope about. 

People told her all sorts of things about their lives, trusting her and hanging on to each of her words. She was journeying alongside others, helping them as they shared the most vulnerable parts of themselves.

For so long, Ruby had denied her spiritual gift and had shame about it. As a patient in the hospital, she found a new sense of purpose. In her physical suffering, she found healing in helping others.

Theologian Howard Thurman once responded to an advice-seeker,

“"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

Ruby absolutely came alive by being with others. In the hospital setting, she received medical care and interventions. However, it was her social connections and belief that she was helping others that was the best medicine.

Also, she did tell me that she saw me on TV, maybe as a televangelist. There’s still time for that one to come true, right?

What makes you come alive?

What are your gifts that you’ve not let flourish yet?

What are the barriers preventing you from claiming these gifts?