A Day in the Life of a Hospital Chaplain

A Chaplains Story…
by Gail Mansell, Chaplain

In the quiet corners of the hospital, where the buzz of machines and the echo of hurried footsteps create a symphony of urgency, there are moments that pass unnoticed by many. In these moments, where the lines between life and death blur, a chaplain moves with a purpose as gentle as a whisper.

Chaplain Miriam had walked these halls for almost three decades. Her steps were slow and deliberate, not out of age but of wisdom, as if each stride carried the weight of countless stories. She was a small woman, with silver hair that framed her face. Her presence was unassuming, but those who knew her understood the power she held—not the kind that commanded, but the kind that healed.

Miriam’s day began before dawn, in a chapel that was more often empty than full. She would pray, not for herself but for those who would come to her that day. It was a ritual, a reminder that in this place of science and medicine, there was also room for the spiritual.

Her visits circulated throughout the hospital. There, she met the suffering like Mr. Thompson, a man in his seventies who had been battling cancer for years. Today was different, though. The doctors had said there was nothing more to be done. Miriam sat by his bedside, not speaking at first. She had learned that sometimes silence was the greatest gift. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice tinged with fear and resignation.

“What comes next?” he asked.

Miriam didn’t have the answers, but she had the comfort of listening, the assurance that he didn’t have to face this alone. She spoke softly of hope—not the kind that denies reality, but the kind that finds peace within it. She prayed with him, holding his hand, her voice steady and calm. When she left his room, he was at peace, a small smile tugging at his lips.

The ICU was next. Miriam always took a deep breath before entering. Here, the fragility of life was most evident, and the weight of her role felt heaviest. She met with the children of a patient named Lily, whose bright eyes belied the seriousness of her condition. The doctors had done all they could, but her body was losing the fight.

Miriam offered to sit with them, and they accepted. She didn’t speak much, just listened as they poured out their fears and heartbreak. When the words ran out, she held them as they cried, feeling their grief as if it were her own. Before she left, she whispered a prayer for comfort and strength, leaving them with a small, woven cross—a token of her care.

Throughout the day, Miriam visited more patients, some seeking answers, others just needing to be heard. There was the young woman in the emergency department who had lost her baby, her tears silent but overwhelming. Miriam stayed with her for hours, offering a presence that words could not fill. There was the elderly man in the Medical-Surgical Unit, whose family was too far away to visit. Miriam sat by his side, reading from a book of Psalms, her voice a soothing balm to his anxious spirit.

By the time evening fell, Miriam was tired, her body aching from the emotional toll of the day. Yet, as she returned to the chapel, quietly reflecting on the day, she felt a deep sense of fulfillment. The work of a hospital chaplain was not about grand gestures or miraculous healings. It was about being there—in the quiet, in the sorrow, in the questions without answers.

Miriam knew she could not change the outcomes, couldn’t cure the diseases or reverse the tragedies. Nevertheless, she could offer something just as powerful: the knowledge that in the hardest moments, no one had to be alone. Moreover, in that, she found her purpose, every single day.

Names in this narrative have been changed to protect privacy, but I hope the story captures the essence of a chaplain's work in a hospital setting. Does it illustrate to you the deep compassion, empathy, and presence that chaplains bring to those in their most vulnerable moments?

Research shows that holding positive beliefs, gaining comfort and strength from religion, and spiritual practices such as meditation and prayer can promote healing and a sense of wellbeing.

At Atlantic General Hospital (AGH), healing interventions are not limited to medications and procedures. The AGH Pastoral Care Services team, a group of chaplains and volunteer clergy from a variety of religious traditions, are available to provide patients and families of all faiths with spiritual care, sacramental ministries, emotional support, and comfort during a hospital stay.

One of the most satisfying ways to serve your community is to volunteer at your local hospital. At AGH, our volunteer chaplains are an important part of the health care team. They help provide spiritual and emotional support to our patients, families, and staff during times of crisis. Our goal is to come in with an open heart to sit and connect with people who may be going through tough times — regardless of their religious beliefs. AGH volunteer chaplains provide compassionate listening and respect for all cultures, values, and spiritual beliefs. We want to provide this service for patients and their families 24 hours a day, 7 days a week

Volunteer chaplains must possess certain personal qualities, including:

• Open-mindedness and empathy
• Be a good listener and have a calm presence
• Emotional fortitude
• Conscientious regard for patient, family, and staff confidentiality
• Endorsement or commission from your faith community or place of worship
• Willingness to be on-call from 4:00pm-8:00am one day per week or one weekend a month.
• Live within a 30-minute drive time of AGH

To inquire about becoming a volunteer chaplain, please contact me:

Gail S. Mansell, Chaplain BCCC, BCPC, FAPA
Director, Supportive Care & Pastoral Care Services
Atlantic General Hospital & Health System
9733 Healthway Drive Berlin, Maryland 21811
gmansell@atlanticgeneral.org
Phone: 410-641-97