quote from book: I’m 22, working as a student chaplain at a children’s hospital, newly and quite miserably single. I’ve just finished two straight days on call. It’s been a rough couple days. Leaving the hospital, I can’t believe how bright it is outside, or how alive the air feels. I get into my car and stare for a while at the parents and kids walking in and out of that place. I play “New Partner” on my car’s CD player. A child had died for no reason the night before—sudden infant death syndrome, a disease that in its name acknowledges our ignorance of it and powerlessness before it. He was a beautiful baby, and he was gone. His mother had asked me to baptize him. In my faith tradition, you’re not supposed to baptize the dead, but then again, babies aren’t supposed to die. He was the first person I ever baptized, actually. His name was Zachary, a name taken from Hebrew words meaning “God remembers.”
I’m 22, working as a student chaplain at a children’s hospital, newly and quite miserably single. I’ve just finished two straight days on call. It’s been a rough couple days. Leaving the hospital, I can’t believe how bright it is outside, or how alive the air feels. I get into my car and stare for a while at the parents and kids walking in and out of that place. I play “New Partner” on my car’s CD player. A child had died for no reason the night before—sudden infant death syndrome, a disease that in its name acknowledges our ignorance of it and powerlessness before it. He was a beautiful baby, and he was gone. His mother had asked me to baptize him. In my faith tradition, you’re not supposed to baptize the dead, but then again, babies aren’t supposed to die. He was the first person I ever baptized, actually. His name was Zachary, a name taken from Hebrew words meaning “God remembers.”