Religion is a source of strength for many people. Some parents and children find that their faith is strengthened by the cancer ordeal, while some begin to question their beliefs. Others, who have not relied on religion in the past, may now turn to it for solace.

Most hospitals have staff chaplains who are available for counseling, religious services, prayer, and other types of spiritual support. The chaplain often visits families soon after diagnosis and is available on an on-call basis. As with all types of emotional support, approaches that work well with one family may not be helpful for others.

When our son was first diagnosed, we didn’t feel as if we could discuss any of our fears with the hospital chaplain. I believe it was simply because our personalities didn’t “click” well together, and we would feel more uncomfortable than anything else whenever he would visit. Several months into treatment, the hospital had a new chaplain, and we hit it off immediately. It was a joy to see him walking down the hall toward my son’s room. He seemed to have a natural gift for making me feel better, even when things seemed to be crumbling around me.

Parents who were members of a church, synagogue, or mosque prior to their child’s diagnosis may derive great comfort from the clergy and members of their religious community. Members of the congregation usually rally around the family, providing meals, babysitting, prayers, and support. Regular visits from clergy provide spiritual sustenance throughout the initial crisis and subsequent years of treatment.

We belong to a religious study group that has met weekly for eight years. In our group, during that time, there have been three cancer diagnoses and one of multiple sclerosis. We have all become an incredibly supportive family, and we share the burdens. I cannot begin to list the many wonderful things these people have done for us. They consistently put their lives on hold to help. They fill the freezer, clean the house, support us financially, parent our children. They do the laundry covered with vomit. They quietly appear, help, then disappear. I can call any one of them at 3:00 a.m. in the depths of despair and find comfort.