Who needs healing?

It is sometimes easy to forget that the medical staff is human, just like the patients. Behind the scrubs and white robes are people of flesh and blood, of strengths and weaknesses, of feelings and secrets. As naked and exposed as the patients sometimes seem, so do the medical professional appear shielded and "protected" behind their roles.

Or so it seems.

I have had the pleasure of playing for the staff on several occasions. It feels very different from playing for patients. Some listen with a huge grin on their faces, some chatted with one another and giggled (like school children, I might add), and some sway side-to-side on their revolving chairs, absent-mindedly. Playing for the staff often feels like administering pure entertainment. These lovely ladies and gentlemen take a small break from their hectic routines and enjoy some good 'ol music, and once the tune stops, the phone goes back on ringing and the intercom back on buzzing. "That was beautiful!" really means "That was fun, thanks. Now where's that chart and what does Mr. Smith want now?"

One time, before heading upstairs to the rooms my guide asked me if I knew "His Eye Is On The Sparrow". I said of course, thinking that a patient had requested it. It turned out to be a nurse, who clapped excitedly when my guide told her that I could play it for her. I must admit, I was never as eager to play for the staff as I was for the patients. In my limited understanding I did not think that they would benefit as much as the patients would. After all, there's nothing really wrong with them, right? And I don't particularly enjoy being a source of "entertainment".

I started playing the hymn, enjoying hearing the music more than playing it, wrapped up in my own world. "Let me just play this once, before the phone starts ringing or before these people become bored," I thought to myself.

Suddenly I heard a gasp. I looked up and the nurse who requested the hymn turned red. Tears filled up her eyes as she covered her nose and mouth with her hand. None of her colleagues seemed to notice her reaction as their gaze started to wander around the nursing station, remembering that there was something that they had forgotten to do. The woman whispered a soft "thank you" when I finished, turned around and started walking quickly towards the back of the station. I saw her wiping her tears as all the actions resumed in the busy station.

When I least expected it, the Holy Spirit graciously ministered, and I am thankful to be a part of it.