by Rev. Dr. Jim Warnock
I got called out at 1:00 a.m. recently for a CPR in progress at the Tacoma Women’s Shelter. I was surprised. Usually shelters have their own staff and don’t require a chaplain from the fire department. The medical examiner will come to take the person since they are usually there alone without family and with no means for engaging a funeral home.
This time Engine 2 called for a chaplain. I arrived to find that Ludmila, an elderly Russian woman with little command of English, had passed away after being sick for most of the day. The staff had called 911 when she passed out, but it was too late for CPR by then. The engine lieutenant was on the phone with the m.e. who decided to come out. This meant she would take Ludmila for an autopsy and would attempt to find relatives. As a chaplain I have no way to do that.
The engine crew wanted me to come for Faith, a young Kenyan woman who had spent the day taking care of Ludmila. She was deeply upset, and they wanted me to talk with her. It was a pleasant night, and she was outside on the porch crying. Three other women, also residents of the shelter, were with her offering their support. Between sobs, Faith told me she’d never seen anyone die and she was convinced she hadn’t done enough to care for Ludmila. The thing that impressed me was the other women, all middle-aged people who had only recently gotten to know Faith. They were standing with her, bringing her a Coke, telling her that she’d done everything right, that she could have done nothing else for Ludmila. It’s what I would have done, but they were connecting better than I ever could have. They’d only known Faith for a few days, but they were supporting her. I sat with them, listening, watching the women bring Faith back from her despair. I think gradually it began to dawn on her that her presence, the entire day, kept Ludmila from dying alone. Ludmila’s last vision was of someone who cared for her.
We talked for a while, standing in the parking lot at 2:00 in the morning. After a time, Faith told us that she came to the United States to attend Cornell from which she graduated with a degree in data science. She had a job until she suffered kidney trouble and was hospitalized. She lost the job and ended up in the shelter where she had at least a bed and food. I told her about the Kenyan church that meets at my parish. She was interested, but she speaks a different dialectic than they do. I gave her the priest’s contact info in case she wanted to
talk with him.
I suspect Faith is undocumented, but that’s not the important thing. She’s a human being, someone who could benefit from our help and who would benefit our society as well. When I came to the shelter, I didn’t see people from different backgrounds with barriers standing
between them. I saw people united in their humanity, caring for a person suffering, Ludmila first and then Faith. In an era in which many in our country want to divide us, to create and profit from hatred and animosity, this is a better vision, how we are meant to live. How significant is it to find this not among the wealthy but in a shelter? This is exactly where Jesus would be and to where we who claim to be his followers are called.