FOR THE FIRST TWO DECADES of my life, you could have told me a chaplain was a type of boat, a cozy shirt, or someone’s favorite meal, and I would have believed you.
In retrospect, this seems perfectly sensible. English is my father’s third language (mine as well, technically), and it’s my mother’s fourth. How do you say in my mom’s French-Chinese dictionary? As immigrants with no other family in America, we had little exposure to the hospital, military, prison, or hospice settings where people are likely to receive spiritual care from a clergy member or lay religious.
