Walking home

Generosity sustains the Holy Work of spiritual care across Cassia.

On Tuesday mornings, Larry Czichotzki walks the familiar block from his home to Fargo Elim. Staff and residents wave as he enters. He heads to the chapel where he checks the hearing-assist headsets, lays out hymn sheets and finds his usual seat.

Though his wife Colleen passed away in September, he keeps coming back. This place, these people, this chapel—this community—has become a spiritual home.

It’s also where donor-funded spiritual care changed both his and Colleen’s lives.

Across Cassia, chaplains walk with residents and families through fear, illness, loss, and renewal. Their work is tender. It is holy. And it happens because donors believe everyone deserves to be seen, known and held by God, especially in their hardest moments.

“We focus on the soul care of people,” says Dr. Tracy Alin, Chaplain Associate at Fargo Elim.

“I like to hope chaplains are like the moon—we light up the darkness.”

“I feel far from God”

It began with a simple visit.

When Tracy first met Colleen, they settled into conversation easily. It wasn’t long before Colleen shared something that had been weighing on her.

“She said she was feeling distant from God and wasn’t sure how to get back,” Tracy recalls.

That conversation sparked a spiritual journey.

Tracy invited her to Bible study and worship, but Colleen worried she might not follow everything in a group. So Tracy offered one-on-one study.

“Would you do that?” Colleen asked with surprise.

Tracy would—and did.

The following week, she met Larry, who came to see Colleen every day. Before long, he joined the study as well. The three of them began meeting weekly—reading, questioning, laughing, praying and growing together.

As weeks turned into months, Tracy watched something grow in Colleen and Larry.

“She pulled me aside and said, ‘He’s like a pastor now,’” Tracy says. “She was so proud of Larry.”

Their faith deepened. Their questions grew richer. And their chaplain became a vital companion on their journey back toward God.

A crisis and an answered prayer

Then came the day Colleen couldn’t reach Larry.

Her calls rang and rang. Fear took over. Then the call came.

Larry had been found on the floor at home and rushed to the hospital.

It was serious. Life-and-death serious.

In the days that followed, while Larry remained unconscious in the hospital, Tracy stayed close. She visited, prayed and helped Colleen through each new update. The stress was taking a toll on Colleen’s already fragile health.

“She wasn’t sleeping,” Tracy says. “They’d always taken care of each other. It was so hard for her to be without him.”

Colleen and Tracy prayed for Larry together. They were relieved when he began to stabilize. Then they began praying for a small miracle: Could a room open at Fargo Elim so Larry could recover near Colleen? With long waiting lists, it seemed unlikely.

By the next week, Tracy came to work, rounded the corner—and there was Larry in the hallway.

“I hadn’t said anything to anyone,” she says. “I just asked God to help us.”

The answered prayer strengthened all three in their faith.

Together again, Larry and Colleen resumed their study. They visited each other’s rooms, encouraged neighbors and became part of a small, caring community patiently and steadfastly nurtured by chaplaincy.

After loss, Larry keeps walking

When Colleen passed away, Larry knew who he wanted to call first—but grief stole his words. “I passed my phone to a friend and said, ‘Would you call Tracy?’” he remembers.

In the weeks that followed, Tracy was there for Larry. Gently she encouraged him to keep coming back to Fargo Elim. “I didn’t want him to lose all the friendships here, too,” she says. “Family members become part of us.”

So Larry kept making that familiar walk to Fargo Elim.

Today, Larry is one of the quiet constants in this community.

He attends Bible study. He sets out hymn sheets. He helps residents with their headsets. He ushers. He volunteers for special projects. He shows up.

He even stepped up to be Santa for the Christmas party, posing with residents, staff and children. “He brought so much joy,” Tracy says. “And in a place that sees a lot of sadness, joy matters.”

A legacy of presence

Ask Tracy what she would say to those who support this ministry, and she grows quiet.

“Knowing donors believe in what we do empowers us,” she says. “It lifts our morale so we can lift up others.”

Then she reflects on why that support matters so deeply.

“For so many people, a place like Fargo Elim is their last stop in this life,” she says. “To nurture the part of them that will go on—you cannot put a value on that.”

Spiritual care is rarely loud. It unfolds in steady visits, honest questions, shared prayer and small acts of joy. It looks like a chaplain pulling up a chair. It looks like a husband growing in faith beside his wife. It looks like Santa in a red suit bringing laughter to a room that has known loss.

And sometimes, it looks like a familiar walk each Tuesday morning.

Because of your generosity, chaplains across Cassia communities are able to keep walking with residents and families through uncertainty, illness, grief and renewal. You help sustain this Holy Work—the quiet, faithful presence that meets people in their hardest moments and reminds them they are not alone.

Thank you for walking with us.