Danny Lynchard's Kevo

http://www.tulsaworld.com/news/article.aspx?articleID=041219_Ne_A23_Chapl26099

Chaplains comfort in tragedies
by Bill Sherman/ Tulsa World

Notifying families of the loss of a loved one is a demanding job, says the volunteer program's director.

Danny Lynchard and his team of police and fire chaplains may have the toughest job in the city -- knocking on a door at 3 a.m. to tell a mother her teenage son is dead.

Lynchard has knocked on 900 of those doors since he started as a volunteer chaplain for the police department in 1982.

It doesn't get any easier, he said.

When a tragedy happens, everyone connected with it -- the family, the police and even the chaplains -- are affected, he said.

Once he was called to a rundown apartment on Southwest Boulevard in which a mother had just lost a week-old baby to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

"Mom's reason for living was that baby."

"He was lying on that big queen-sized bed with little dimples where knuckles ought to be.

"Mom was lying on the sofa, rocking and crying hysterically.

"It came time for the medical examiner to take the baby away. When the reality hit her that the baby was leaving for good, her hysteria escalated.

"I asked the ME (medical examiner) if I could let mom hold the baby before they left.

"And I walked her in there and set her in a rocking chair and gently put that baby in her arms, and she just rocked it and cried.

"I didn't have any words, and she didn't have a religious background. I felt at such a loss. Her husband had left her.

"I just began to pray, and all of a sudden she stopped crying and she started singing 'Jesus Loves Me.'

"It was like God just came in and put the words in her heart that would comfort her because I didn't have the words," he said.

Lynchard described the role of chaplains as "spiritual and emotional paramedics," who deal with people in crisis situations, and often refer them to mental health professionals or local churches for long-term help.

Most people react with disbelief when a stranger at their door in the middle of the night tells them a loved one is dead.

And everyone wants more information.

For that reason, Lynchard said, chaplains prefer to go to the scene and gather as much information as possible before they call on the loved one.

Suicides are the hardest to accept, he said.

No two cases can be handled the same way, he said.

"It's not a matter of technique, it's a matter of the heart.

"And the only rule is the golden rule -- to treat people the way you would want to be treated."

"We try to never notify loved ones by phone," he said.

Volunteer chaplain Emile Hawkins called it a "ministry of presence . . You're the presence of God for them."

It takes a certain personality to do chaplaincy work, according to Lynchard. People with strong, close friend ships do well and, he said, a sense of humor helps.

A personal tragedy got Lynchard into chaplaincy work.

In 1977 he moved from Anaheim, Calif., where he had been an associate pastor at Melodyland Christian Center, to be pastor of a nondenominational Tulsa church.

A close friend, police officer Bob Fagan, shot himself to death in his squad car at the police station in 1981, the same year he was named Officer of the Year.

Devastated, Lynchard went to the police chief and asked what he could do to help.

He first served as a volunteer chaplain, and in 1987 became the executive director of the chaplaincy program. He now recruits, trains and directs a team of about 15 volunteers, and acts as chaplain to police officers. He also is pastor at Fisher Baptist Church in Sand Springs.

Chaplains are assigned to sections of the city, and they carry pagers 24 hours a day during their rotation of a week to 10 days, answering an average of about one or two calls a week.

So far this year, they have answered over 300 calls.