A Sigh of comfort for those who are ill

A Sigh of comfort for those who are ill

The season's first snowstorm swirls outside the windows of Albany County Nursing Home, and Sigh Buchanan pauses between decades of the Rosary to gesture at the falling flakes.

"Anybody who has been looking for signs here of God's presence, this is it!" she says. After the laughter dies down, she smiles at the nursing home residents who pack the room and begins, "Hail Mary...."

Ms. Buchanan is the first lay Catholic chaplain to serve in the Albany Diocese. Since June, she has ministered to about 600 residents at the Albany County and Ann Lee nursing homes in Albany, approximately 70 percent of whom are Catholic.

She calls herself the "sigh of God."

"I became a Catholic when I was 18," she explained. "My friends thought my spirituality reminded them of the line from St. Paul, `the spirit...sighs too deep for words,' and the `sigh within Elijah's heart.'"

What began as a nickname Ms. Buchanan eventually changed to her legal name, as she realized that "I really am that sigh of God's heart," ministering to people, she explained, in ways as small and gentle as a sigh.

However, residents and their families don't see her services as small. "I'm so sorry she didn't come sooner," lamented Rosemary Brennan, a parishioner of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel parish in Watervliet whose husband, Jack, is a two-year resident of the Albany County home. "I could have used her here when Jack first came. She fills everyone's needs; she's very available."

A native of Maryland, Ms. Buchanan lived in New Hampshire for many years before coming to the Albany Diocese. Her first job here, a year ago, was as a substitute between the departure of one youth minister at St. Ambrose parish in Latham and the arrival of another.

The chaplain also boasts of being the first woman to earn a master's degree in theology from Mount St. Mary's Seminary in Emmitsburg, Maryland. She is presently working on her doctorate in ministry from Hartford Seminary.

Formerly a pastoral liaison for now-retired Bishop Odore Gendron of Manchester, Ms. Buchanan joked that "I'm never surprised by anything God does." The chaplain came to the Albany Diocese already having "the thread [of pastoral ministry] through my whole life," from her work to a serious car accident some time ago that left her with disabling injuries and an appreciation for life.

"A doctor said I'd never have a life again," she told The Evangelist. "I have a life -- of deeper service to God's suffering ones. I'm here to do what I can do."

Thus, when diocesan chancellor Sister Kathleen Turley, RSM, approached her about applying for a chaplain's position always held previously by a Franciscan priest, Ms. Buchanan took her up on the offer.

"I am drawn into the mystery," the new chaplain admitted. "I particularly love to be present to people when they're dying. It's an honor to be with them at that moment."

Residents told The Evangelist that while they did miss having a full-time priest as a chaplain, Ms. Buchanan suited them just fine as a replacement.

"She's wonderful," declared Josephine Fahy, who has lived at the Albany County home for about seven years. "I've learned something from her, and as old as I am, I'm never too old to learn something."

Fellow resident Gloria Calkan, Ms. Buchanan's senior by several decades, called the chaplain "my adoptive mother. My mother just passed away, and she's my adoptive mother. She gives me good advice."

Each day, Ms. Buchanan goes from unit to unit at the two nursing homes, bringing the Eucharist and her own presence. "At first, I tried to plan my day," she said, laughing. "I soon abandoned that tactic! You really have to have flexibility; I could be there [talking with a resident] for two minutes or two hours."

The chaplain goes from room to room, checking in with those who have requested a visit or whose families or aides have suggested she see. She prays and chats with residents, offers "my layperson's blessing," and stays with those who are dying and their families.

Death visits the homes often. "`Normal' would be three or four people dying," Ms. Buchanan said. "Last week, eight people died."

The chaplain believes that God takes a hand in making sure that two residents don't pass away at the same time, so she can be there for both. After staying with one resident, she was called to another's bedside: "I went down to Bill's room, said some prayers, blessed him and he died."

Some experiences touch the chaplain deeply: "There was a man with cancer. He was a person who didn't want to trouble anybody; he would say `I'm fine' when he was not fine. I always prayed the Our Father with him." Called to attend his death, the chaplain stayed with the resident and his family for several hours before the relatives decided to take a break.

It occurred to her that the resident might die while they were gone, to spare his family the burden of watching his death. After they left, "I put my hand under his and started praying the Our Father. On the `amen,' he died. It was such a graced experience."

Ms. Buchanan has some "standard" duties: attending the Rosary and weekly Masses, often celebrated by Bishop Gendron, who travels from New Hampshire to help her out; and directing a spiritual life group for residents.

"We sit around and talk about life and death and God, whatever they want to talk about," she explained. "The two biggies are suffering and death: they want to know why God has abandoned them. I tell them that God has not abandoned them; when we are suffering we are

closest to God. I can be a sign of God's presence to them. [But] I don't see myself as someone coming to do something to them -- we are a community here. I'm trying to create that community not only with the residents, but with the staff as well.

"Things are so real here," she added. "We are in the nitty-gritty of life."

As the laywoman travels the halls, many residents hail her as "Sister." In many ways, she said, her position would be easier to handle as a vowed religious: "It's infinitely harder to live on your own and work for the Church. I don't have a [religious] community. That's why it's important to be a part of my parish community."

Being a single layperson has its advantages and disadvantages, she said. "I cannot say to someone who's dying, `I'm sorry, I have to go home.' [But] if I were married, I'd have to go home to my husband, my kids. That's the advantage of being a single layperson: I can give my full presence."

Pausing, she says wistfully, "But I miss having a dog."

With 600 residents to minister to, Catholic and non-Catholic, Ms. Buchanan must be aware of the possibility of burnout. When asked how she deals with stress, she pointed upward.

"I thrive on disaster, but it's the grace of God," she said. "I try to take Sat as a hermit day, but things happen."

Someday, Ms. Buchanan hopes to see a team approach in nursing home ministry, where priests and ministers, religious, laypersons and volunteers share duties. She complimented Bishop Gendron on his willingness to come and celebrate Masses, anoint the sick and hear Confessions at the two homes: "These are things I cannot do."

For now, the chaplain said, she will continue to be there for those to whom she ministers. "Putting a family member in a nursing home is usually a traumatic thing. If they know there's someone here with a compassionate heart who can be there for their person, it makes them feel better."

(For information on becoming a volunteer at Albany County or Ann Lee nursing homes, call 869-2231, extension 315.)

(11-20-97)