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patients.”
    “That will be Luther Stuart,” said Olympia. “He wears a big silver cross around his neck.”
    “Then I won’t miss him, will I?”
    “Olympia looked down at the table and ran her fingers through her hair. “No, you won’t miss him.”
    “One more question. Would you prefer to be called Pastor Brown or Reverend Brown?” asked the charge nurse as she directed Olympia out of the staff lounge and into the main hallway. “Most of our chaplains are still in seminary and not ordained, so we usually go by first names.”
    “I prefer being called by my first name. For the record, I was named Olympia after the very first woman ordained to professional Universalist Ministry in the United States back in 1863, so I guess I have a reputation to maintain.”
    “It’s a nice name, elegant.”
    “Thank you. I like it myself, but tell me, how do you prefer that I work in your unit?”
    “Come on, I’ll walk you around. When you check in at the desk, I think it’s best to ask if there are any special cases that might benefit from a chaplain’s visit, and just as important, to know if there are any people who have specifically asked that you not visit. After that, it’s up to you. I’ve found that most patients like to be asked how they are feeling, and trust me, they’ll tell you. Some will ask you to pray with or for them. Mostly they want some company.” The nurse grinned at Olympia. “I can tell by just this little conversation, you’re going to be one of the good ones.”
    “You can?”
    The nurse tucked her arm though Olympia’s. “This is a teaching hospital. We get a new group of chaplains three times a year. After all these years dealing with chaplains and watching how they relate to sick people, believe me, I can tell. I can tell you horror stories, as well, but not right now. Why don’t you start off with Elinore Banks in room 311? She’s a hoot. She’s doing great. She just needs a couple more days on that new leg.”
    Before Olympia could ask what exactly she meant by a few more days on a new leg, the charge nurse, with her ever-present clip board, patted her on the shoulder and was heading back to her station as Olympia’s question dissolved into the insistent beeps and whirrs of hospital machinery.
    Olympia turned and set off down the gray tiled corridor looking for room 311. She wondered if she should have brought along a Bible, at least for appearance’s sake.
    Guess I’ll soon find out!
    Elinore Banks was alone in the semi-private room.  She was sitting up in bed, looking quite stylish in a pale blue bedjacket, reading a large print book. She looked up with a pleasant smile when Olympia tapped on the doorframe and asked if she would like a visit.
    “Come right in, dear,” said Elinore, squinting up at Olympia through her thick glasses, “I love company. It’s lonesome in here without a roommate. Now who might you be?”
    Olympia walked over to the side of the bed, extended her hand and introduced herself as the new chaplain for this unit.
    “Oh, Lord, yes, dear. Pull up a chair.” Elinore looked around. “Uh, there doesn’t seem to be one, and the other bed is too far away.” Then she lifted her hand and pointed towards the window wall. “Over there. Pull up the commode, there’s only a little pee in it. They haven’t emptied it yet. Just keep the lid down.”
    Despite her best efforts to maintain the demeanor of a dedicated and sober-faced hospital chaplain visiting an older lady confined to her bed, Olympia burst out laughing, and that, in turn, set off Elinore Banks. For a few hilarious moments Olympia dragged and maneuvered the commode into place without spilling a single drop. The two women giggled and snorted and eventually calmed down enough to have a chat.
    As the charge nurse predicted, Elinore wanted to talk about nothing specifically religious and just about everything else. She told Olympia all about her family, her home, the pets, and her long-deceased