A chaplain sits with one who says he doesn’t know anything about God…

So he said:
But what if I’ve no conception of God?
What if I have no idea what spirituality means?

Has it all turned to nothing?
Maybe I should have been seeking God all along.
His voice trailed off.

He wasn’t especially close to death
But he knew he was closer than he’d ever been.

He couldn’t much walk anymore.
He had plenty of time to think.

The occasional visitor came by,
But he had outlived a bunch of his people,
The ones he’d remember at ten o’clock
When the sun was far away.

Hey, I said, gently as I could.
Tell me about your great loves.
Tell me about what annoyed you.
Tell me about the times when
The difference between the earth
And the sky melted away.

Tell me about what sports you played in school
And the first time you thought you were in love.

We laughed and he talked.
He cried sometimes and we talked.

He told me he loved looking at bugs when he was a kid.
He would look up their names and give them his own names.
You and Adam, my friend, you and Adam!

He told me his great loves and his big regrets
And the way he made it over, in the way he could.

Sounds like, I said to him, as our time came to an end,
That you met God a thousand times
In that rich and beautiful life.

We just have to come to our own naming of God
In our own time, in our own way.

And when the time comes to rest, to rest.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[b] neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow — not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. 39 No power in the sky above or in the earth below — indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God

St. Paul