SABATTUS – Bob Morin could have slept through the afternoon, but his wife knew he would be upset if she didn’t wake him as soon as Kitsie Claxton got to the house.

A chaplain for Androscoggin Home Care & Hospice, Claxton waited in the dining room for Morin to get out of bed and take his usual seat beside her.

She knew as soon as she saw him that his heart and lungs had become weaker since her visit two weeks ago.

His entire upper body moved with every shallow, quick breath. The crackling in his chest was louder than ever. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. He fell back into his recliner, then immediately pushed himself up and stumbled to his seat at the head of the table.

“How are you feeling?” Claxton asked, her words slow and quiet.

“Good,” Morin responded quickly. “I’d say it wasn’t a good night or a bad night. It was in between.”

Claxton looked at Morin and nodded her head as he struggled to talk. Then she got up to get her Catholic prayer book.

As Claxton reached into her bag, Morin clapped his hands and grinned like a kid waiting in line for an amusement park ride.

She opened to a book-marked page. He closed his eyes.

“Praised be my Lord God for all his creatures, especially for our brother the sun, who brings us the day and who brings us the light,” Claxton read.

By the second line, Morin’s shoulders dropped. His breathing slowed. The wheezing stopped.

I’d throw her out’

When Morin first started receiving hospice services in March 2003, he wasn’t sure he wanted visits from one of the agency’s two interfaith chaplains.

Even though he could no longer make it to Our Lady of the Rosary every Sunday, he was used to watching a French-language Mass on television, and his wife brought him Communion every week.

At 75, he wasn’t interested in listening to anyone who might try to convince him that God and heaven do not exist.

“I told my wife that everybody is welcome into our home,” he said. “But, if she starts preaching to me about going to another religion, I’d throw her out.”

Jackie Morin was also skeptical. But she encouraged her husband to give it a try. For Jackie, the connection with Claxton was instant.

“When she came here and I met her for the first time, it was just like I knew her,” Jackie said.

With Bob, it took a few more visits.

Having worked with people of various faiths, including those who have told her up front that they weren’t religious at all, Claxton is used to giving people time to figure out what they want from her.

“For every person, it’s a totally new experience,” she said. “It’s not a place in their life that they’ve ever been before.”

Writer to chaplain

Claxton could tell immediately that Bob and Jackie liked to talk about their kids and grandkids. So, for the first couple of visits, that is what she encouraged them to do.

It wasn’t until the fourth visit that Morin came out and asked the question that had been on his mind for weeks.

“I want to know what you believe,” he said to Claxton.

A former freelance writer who did public relations work for Androscoggin Home Care & Hospice, Claxton told Morin how her experience of caring for a few friends who were dying of AIDS made her want to leave writing behind to take a clinical pastoral course.

She explained that she is a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church in Auburn, but she wasn’t there to push any religion. She told him that she could do whatever he wanted: sit and talk, read prayers, play music.

At first, Morin told her that he preferred to pray alone. Eventually, he asked if she knew any Catholic prayers.

“I still remember the look on his face when he saw that I had a Catholic prayer book,” Claxton said. “It was so cute. He was so delighted.”

Chills

These days, Morin doesn’t let Claxton leave without reading at least one prayer.

Her voice always makes him feel better, even on the days when he can’t catch his breath, when he can’t keep his balance, when he can think of nothing but the pain.

“Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the stars which he has set clear and lovely in heaven,” Claxton continued to read.

“Praise be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for the air and clouds.”

Morin’s breath slowed even more as the feeling he once described as having an elephant on his chest seemed to disappear.

“Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom you give us light in the darkness; and he is bright and pleasant and very mighty and strong.”

Morin started to forget the dark, lonely hours of the previous night when he could do nothing but sit in bed and wonder if morning would come.

“Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, who sustains us and keeps us and brings forth various fruits and flowers of many colors and grass.”

With his head lowered and his hands pressed together, Morin imagined himself as a young boy, climbing the lamp post by his house and jumping from roof to roof in Little Canada.

“Praise and bless the Lord, and give thanks to him and serve him with great humility.”

Morin felt chills up his back.

“Amen,” Claxton said.

“Amen,” Morin repeated.

Claxton closed the book. Morin opened his eyes. The day didn’t seem as hard.

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