“If you see white smoke, I've been made Pope,” were my parting words to a patient, the second time I'd seen them outside. Each time they were having a cigarette and so our conversations were also conducted amidst white smoke.
We had talked about a number of things and the patient was very pleased to tell me that he knew the process around selecting a new Pope, referencing the use of the white smoke to indicate the decision being ratified.
Other topics we covered were losing a limb and supporting the bluebirds.
Made famous in Britain by Vera Lynne, the second world war song lyrics are said to be,
“…[looking] toward a time when the war would be over, and peace would rule over the iconic white cliffs…”
The same article notes, that the full song includes two verses that aren't often found in recordings,
I'll never forget the people I met braving those angry skies.
I remember well as the shadows fell, the light of hope in their eyes.
And tho' I'm far away, I can still hear them say "Thumbs Up!"
for when the dawn comes up,... There'll be blue birds over...
When night shadows fall, I'll always recall out there across the sea
Twilight falling down on some little town;
It's fresh in my memory.
I hear mother pray, and to her baby say "Don't cry,"
This is her lullaby.... There'll be blue birds over...
There'll be bluebirds over
The white cliffs of Dover
Tomorrow, just you wait and see
Today, I've met people who've had hope in their eyes. I've met mothers struggling to see their little ones, so sick and unwell. Praying with all they have and offering them reassurance and comfort. Sometimes, it's hard to see beyond the here and now. It's difficult to conceive of anything beyond the pain. The current reality.
The opposite of the white smoke is the black smoke of indecision. Of darkness. Of no change. How long will we wait for the brightness of tomorrow? How do we continue to live in the unknown? How long do we have to wait and see?
This week, I had a relative of a patient, tell me that he was a Catholic. And he added this caveat, “but I'm not a very good one.” I met another family today, who had just received news that the husband would be returning home for palliative care. The wife told me that her husband would express the same thing, about not being a very good Catholic, but she was sure he'd be wanting to speak to the priest when the time is right.
I wondered what makes a good Catholic? A good christian? A good person?
What about a good Pope?
I think I'll stick with being a chaplain for now.
But, if you see the white smoke, you never know.
Wait and see.