The frail, tired woman had experienced a sleepless night in her hospital bed. Aged wrinkles marked her face as she prepared to greet another day of tests, medications, and well-meaning visitors. It was early. The little rays of sunshine had just begun to dance through the cracks in the window blinds. She heard him next door. Every morning he practiced the same routine. He was a preacher. His clerical collar and oversized cross hanging from the big chain around his neck informed everyone of his status.

He wasn’t her minister. Actually, he wasn’t anyone’s minister. But he thought he was everyone’s minister. He had retired a few years earlier and his voluntary rounds in the hospital provided him with a boost to his flagging self-esteem. He would visit every patient on the hall, asking them if…