Journal of Sacred Work

Day 242 - Love is God

"Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love." - 1 John 4:8

   Since I believe, deeply, that God is Love, the reverse would seem to be true. Whenever Love flows through us, that means we are in God's presence. Love is God. They are one and the same.

   David Whyte writes: "There is a faith in loving fiercely." So many seem to experience love timidly. Perhaps they are afraid. And in their fear, they paradoxically distance themselves from Love. There is no fear in Love and no Love in fear.

   At the same time, we humans have an odd belief that if we engage God's Love, this means we will be perpetually happy. I wonder how such a notion would have struck Job, who experienced his trials as a test of Love? The life of Jesus has already told us what it means to live Love with all its attendant trials and sufferings as well as its joys and miracles. Jesus may have died for our sins, but his example of Love shows that we who seek to live Love will have our trials as well.

   God calls us to a Love which seems crazy in the eyes of most of the world. What is sensible about loving our enemies? "Pray for those who persecute you," Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:44.) And yet, often when someone grabs me by the arm and tells that they are a Christian I find myself asking them, "How are you doing praying for your enemies?" They look at me as if I am crazy (which, of course, I am.)  

   Any President of the United States (all of whom have been Christians except Jefferson, who was a Unitarian) who actually practiced the the dictates of the Sermon on the Mount would likely be both impeached and convicted of treason. "Do not resist an evildoer," Jesus commands. (Matthew 5:39) "Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you. (Matthew 5:42)

   How can we live in this world and still practice such a demanding Love? The answer is that most of us don't. Perhaps, we rationalize that Jesus didn't really mean what he said or was (brace yourself) misquoted! No, Jesus is calling us to love fiercely. If we are to experience God's Love, we must be willing to forego much of what the world offers just as he did.

   Love asked of Jesus that he both suffer and let his body die. Perhaps the least we can do is to help alleviate the suffering of others. 

   This is what caregivers are called to do each day. Nurses, social workers, occupational therapists, those who care for the homeless: None of them ever get rich from their work. They choose to forego riches to live Love. 

   In the dark heart of night, in the wake of a patient's death, in the presence of great pain, so many caregivers must often wonder about Love's calling. The best perservere.

   This is why caregivers are my heroes.

-Erie Chapman  

Days 239-241 - The Real Legacy

   On a sunny summer day in 1967, I encountered a cheerful young Senator as he spoke to other young people who were working, as I was then, on Capitol Hill. My most enduring memory of him was not his speech, which included a stirring appeal for universal health care, but how happy and carefree he seemed.   

   He was only 36 years old then. The world lay before him and it must have looked like his oyster. I saw him as he waved good luck to a few of us outside the Capitol and then watched as he climbed into his green Chevrolet and drove off.

   As we all know, Teddy Kennedy had money, good looks a great name, and many talents. Back then, the traits of his that were most underestimated were his remarkable skill and endurance as a legislator and his passionate commitment to one big issue: health care.  

   With all that has been written and spoken the last few days about the late Senator there is one particular way to honor him that exceeds all others. Teddy said often and eloquently that universal health care was "the cause of my life."

   If our country's leaders really honor the Senator as much as they say they do, a majority of them will see to it that the poor and under-insured will finally receive what Kennedy said was a right, not a privilege: quality health care.

   Can you think of a better way to honor this last of the Kennedy brothers than that?

-Erie Chapman 

Day 239 - Circles of Possibility

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say, "What are you going through?"  - Simone Weil (1909-1943), French philosopher, Christian mystic, social activist.

     In yesterday's journal reflection, Erie Chapman and those whose comments followed suggested the act of presence as a means to relief and hope in the face of great pain. The power of being together is transforming, yet the very nature of being together in small groups in our places of healthcare reverts to 'meeting' mode and 'getting things done.' We've all experienced meetings that were regarded as 'a waste of time' or, conversely as 'highly productive.' Contrary to the question "when will it end" is the exquisite and wonder-filled experience of time that evaporates when just being with someone, and perhaps especially when nothing is 'getting done.'

     Wendell Berry (1934 -  ) is described as an American man of letters, academic, cultural and economic critic, and farmer. He is a prolific author of novels, short stories, poems, and essays. In a collection of essays, titled "What Are People For?, Berry speaks to the grace of health and healing that emerges from our encounters with one another:

The grace that is the health of creatures can only be held in common.

In healing the scattered members come together.

In health the flesh is graced, the holy enters the world.

And later he writes:

We clasp the hands of those that go before us,

And the hands of those who come after us.

We enter the little circle of each other’s arms

And the larger circle of lovers,

Whose hands are joined in a dance,

And the larger circle of all creatures,

Passing in and out of life,

Who move also in a dance,

To a music so subtle and vast that no ear hears it

Except in fragments.

     Community matters, and it is from community that healing happens, albeit in bits and pieces of the dance we spin from the music we cannot hear with our ears. Rainer Maria Rilke exhorted us to "Live the questions now." In a place of healing, some of the important questions are "How do we choose to be together?" and "What do we want to create together?" Author Peter Block asserts depth is of more value than speed, and relatedness more important than scale. Yet depth takes time and asks a willingness to engage. Creating a sense of belonging requires the courage to set aside our usual notions of action and of measuring success by the numbers affected. "It also means that while we keep our own points of view, we leave our self-interest at the door and show up to learn rather than to advocate," writes Block.

     I wonder what we, the readers of this journal are learning. What do we want to create together?

Day 238 - How Much Longer?

"There is a region in the experience of pain where the certainty of alleviation often permits superhuman endurance." - from Darkness Visible by William Styron (below)

   How often have we found ourselves in the middle of a painful treatment? The person administering the treatment, whether doctor, dentist, nurse of therapist, doesn't want us to be in pain. Yet, for some reason, they often remain silent until we beg them to tell us: "How much longer?"   The reason for caregiver silence may sometimes be that it hasn't occurred to the treating professional how incredibly important it is for the sufferer to know (if at all possible) when the pain will end. Suffering requires endurance. Where do we find the energy to fuel this endurance? 

   Our energy to endure flows from hope.

   Imagine if we thought the pain would never end. "it is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul," Stryon writes. He should know. Styron, the author of such powerful novels as Sophie's Choice and The Confessions of Nat Turner, experienced terrific bouts of Type II Bipolar disease, characterized by swings between high energy and severe, debilitating depression. He writes that during his depression back in 1985 no one could answer the big question for him: "How much longer?" As a result, his depression worsened and he entered a period which he describes as "despair beyond despair."

   Caregivers hold the great power to give the gift of hope to those who suffer. They need to recognize their power and use it. This doesn't mean they must guarantee a cure. Instead, they can, through their healing presence, share the Love that forms the basis from which hope springs.

   One of the things that dilutes hope is abandonment. Pain isolates his victims. Caregivers can ease this isolation by joining patients on their journey. 

   You have no doubt delivered the gift of hope many times to your patients. When you have, perhaps you have experienced a particular healing effect on the face of your patient that can partly be described in two important words: relief and gratitude. 

   These are two of the rewards for underpaid caregivers. For many caregivers, these rewards represent riches beyond measure.

-Erie Chapman   

Days 236-237 - The Quiet People

"[Emily Dickinson] was not an alcoholic, she was not abusive, she was not neurotic, she did not commit suicide. Neurotic people or alcoholics...make better copy, and people talk about them, tell anecdotes about them. The quiet people just do their work."  - Joyce Carol Oates

   What can we say about people who, as Oates wrote, "just do their work"? We know that these legions of "quiet people" form the foundation of successful caregiving. They come and go to hospitals, nursing homes, hospices, and other charities day after day, shift after shift. They don't demand attention. And they usually don't get it.

   The quiet people are the ones who so often deliver Radical Loving Care behind drawn curtains, in operating rooms, to tiny patients living in bassinets and to clients who come for help to repair their broken souls. They are also the housekeepers who no one notices, the dietary employees who diligently and skillfully prepare meals, the maintenance staff members who fix plumbing, repair broken beds, fix the air conditioning and keep the heating running at the right levels. They look through laboratory micoscopes in search of disease-causing bacteria, they organize medical records so other caregivers can find them when they need them. They are the anonymous healers who answer suicide hotlines.

   The quiet people don't seek medals or prizes. In fact, they don't seek any attention at all from the wider world. What many yearn for is to simply follow their calling with determination, skill, humility and grace. They don't seek recognition. They seek to live Love.

   Perhaps, you are one of these quiet and loving people. I have seen you cleaning floors, transporting patients down the hallway, carrying blood samples to the lab. I have noticed occasional expressions that reflect, perhaps, the monotony of some of the work you do. You know that no one sees you and that your focus is on the job before you. You are the quiet people, the silent heroes, the humble servants of Love.

   I celebrate you today and every day and night.

-Erie Chapman 

Days 233-235 - Open Forum - Mother's Love

   As I have written before in this space, it is likely that we first learn about love from our mothers. Mine (in a recent photo with her great grandson Miles) turned 97 on August 21. For nearly a century, this date has been an important day of the year for my family. Based on her solid health and superb attitude towards life, I expect my mother to sail through to age 100 in a few years and into her second century. For me and my three siblings, she was our first caregiver. From her, we learned first about the mysterious and magical beauty of Love.

   What do your remember about your first experiences of receiving love or of giving it?

-Erie Chapman

Day 232 - Seeing Through

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice-President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

"I look through my eyes, not with them" - William Blake (1757-1827, English poet, painter, largely unrecognized during his lifetime).

     William Blake, probably better well-known for his words than for his paintings, noted how we can look at the same image or object and see different things: "This world is a world of imagination and vision. I see everything I paint in this world; but everybody does not see alike. To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others is only a green thing that stands in the way." We look with our eyes and do not see.

     Blake's imagery, both written and painted, came from his understanding of seeing through his eyes. The idea of seeing through the patient's eyes is among the clarion calls on the Servant's Heart. For many caregivers, seeing through the patient's eyes means providing what some scholars have called emotional and social support. That support may be expressed through positive affect, including the sense that the one being cared for is loved and esteemed. Yet too often those words are met in retort with protestations of needed professional distance or even self protection from the 'burden' of entering into the space of our patients' suffering. The less demanding idea of compassion trumps love in the eyes of those who protest, but the patient wants and needs love.

     Sadly, caregivers are often experienced as uncaring people more focused on the task at hand than on the person being touched by cold hands. Perhaps at the core of the challenge is that as caregivers we may tend to only look with our eyes rather than through them. How many patients do we encounter each day who have become invisible to our seeing? Or how often do we look and see only the body but not the person, diminshing further with greetings of "Hello, Honey" or "Mr. Smith, I'm here to...."

     The painting by Blake (above) titled "Woman Clothed with the Sun" is a famous image that on first glance may appear as an angel surrounded by light. Through Blake's eyes we see a vision of a pregnant woman surrounded by a dragon overhead and figures drowning in a tempest of high seas. I wonder how we see our patients at first glance. What might we see if we look again? What does your heart tell you as you see through your eyes today?

Day 231 - Why Grief is Good

"Grief is a window to God." - Dr. Bruce Vaughn

   At a funeral awhile back, I overheard a woman say to one of the aggrieved, "There, there, you'll be okay. You'll get over it." It's a common statement following a death, whether in a hospital or in some other setting. We don't like to see survivors suffer so we look for ways to comfort them, to help them out of their grief.
   Should we be doing that? Dr. Vaughn, a therapist, has suggested, in recent remarks to pastoral counselors, that grief is an expression of "love in the absence of the beloved." Someone dear to us has passed away from us. Our love continues. One way we show our love is by grieving. There is no need to make grief go away. It is fine for us to continue grieving, perhaps in a different way, long after our loved one had passed away.
   My father died in 1995. Barely a day passes that I don't think of him and grieve his absence in this world. His life and mine were deeply woven together. It turns out that is still true. I hear his voice (in fact, I often mimic it with my siblings) and I can recall so many of his stories and instructions. In many important ways, he is still present.  
   My grief may not express itself in tears. Yet, most recollections of him are accompanied by the pangs of absence. Anyone who has "lost" someone has had the same experience with someone that has passed away from this earth. 

   The advantage of Dr. Vaughn's insights are that he may be helping us to rethink our notions of grief. Perhaps, we need to spend less time grieving the loss of patients or family and more time seeking to re-imagine our grief as an expression of God's Love. This means eventually letting go of grief which may paralyze us at the beginning. After that, we can begin to shape a way of honoring the departed in ways that may or may not include tears. But, if tears come, they can be welcomed instead of brushed away. After all, our love for others is always tinged with some kind of exquisite pain that lives alongside the joy we feel for the life we have jhad with them.

   Are these thoughts about grief helpful to you as a caregiver?

-Erie Chapman

Day 230 - The Presence of Fun

"Preservation of the soul means the palpable presence of some sacred otherness in our labors..." - David Whyte, The Heart Aroused

   When you think back to your childhood and your family, what are your happiest memories? Mine have to do with fun. My best memories of my dad are when he was laughing and making us laugh, not when he was lecturing me or disciplining me. The same is true with my friends, not only from that era but from today. Good humor helps preserve our souls. It helps ease "our labors" and enables us to stay open to that "sacred otherness" that is so crucial to our precious humanity.

     In my long career working with caregivers, I have rarely seen anything more crucial to success than the introduction of one ingredient that seems to balance all the others. It is fun. Skill is crucial, inspiration is invaluable, and the power of both is catalyzed by our ability to laugh. Absent humor, our work can feel like drudgery.

    When our humor fails, burnout can step in to take its place.

    When I have been successful giving a speech, it is usually because I tell myself beforehand to "have fun." I literally have to remind myself of think of my public speaking as fun because otherwise I would either be taken over by anxiety or by arrogance: the idea that my speech must be very important and therefore I had better do a transcendent job.

    What is your experience? Do you find it difficult to think of the fun aspects of your work? On Monday morning, is it hard to conjure pictures of fun connected to your workplace? If this is so, you have the chance to rethink your attitude toward your calling.

    Maybe I need to point out that I am not, of course, talking about laughing all day long (although I do know some good caregivers that seem to carry a nice little chuckle around with them all the time.) What I mean is that fun, suprisingly, is an essential in ingredient to the chemistry of creating sacredness in our work.

    If laughter was a happy part of your childhood or of some other part of other part of your life, than you know that those were sacred times for you. Is there a way you might use this knowledge to transform and enhance your life as a caregiver?

-Erie Chapman   

Day 229 - The Caregiver's Light

I love the Love that travels through you,/ the sure illumination of your heart. - Dane Dakota

   It takes so much courage to open our hearts to Love the way Lisa Graham does every day. It takes courage because Lisa cares for those who are sure to die soon. Often, disease has eroded the shapes of Lisa's patients. Of course, she sees them as spirits, not just bodies.

   As a person with an open heart, sometimes she sheds tears, as do her fellow caregivers Sarah and Ginger. During my experience coming to know these women during the filming of our video, A Place Called Alive, I found myself more and more illuminated by the light of their presence.

   The light of these caregivers is so strong that they can stare into death's dark eyes and come back each day to bring more Love to those in need. They are caregiving heroes.

   In the movie, "The Killers" a character says, "The only man who's afraid to die is the one who's dead already." The decision to become fully alive means living Love, not fear. Grief is part of the price of opening our hearts. Joy, not just happiness. is the reward.

   I love the Love that travels through the hearts, hands and eyes of caregivers like Lisa, Ginger and Sarah. This same light is available to all of us. May this Love visit your heart today and every day.

-Erie Chapman

  

Day 226 - Open Forum for Caregivers

Day 225 - Courageous Non-Conformity

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice-President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

"Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your mind." - Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882).

     In an earlier post, Erie Chapman noted the wisdom in these words: "If we do the right thing, we don't have to justify our actions to anyone else." That statement reminded me of an essay written by author Dr. Wayne Dyer on the idea of self-reliance as reflected in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson quoted above and preceded with these thoughts: "Society is a joint-stock company in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most requests is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs."

     Dyer notes it is possible to find some obscure law or rule or societal tradition to justify virtually anything. In fact when considering many of the wrongs that have been perpetrated on humanity, suggests Dyer, they have virtually all been accomplished under the protective custody of society's laws. He points to the murder of Socrates because the law said it would be proper to do so, and to the death of St. Joan of Arc directly tied to the law. It was once law that women could not vote and African-Americans could not sit at the front of the bus. It seems that laws and rules of society may not be a reasonable place to justify one's actions.

    Perhaps there is a better way, albeit a way that demands courage. Dyer goes on to say "Aspiring to be a more sacred being means shedding your reliance on conformity." He echoes the words of Emerson who wrote "I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions." He spoke openly of the long-held but immoral institution of slavery which was protected by law (and still exists today though not visible to most of us): "I ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways. If malice and vanity wear the cost of philanthropy, shall that pass?"

     Dyer found ways to quietly practice non-conformity; without need of public pronouncements, outbursts, or fighting, he sought ways to courageously live in truth. He asserts if we know it is right, it will be in harmony with spiritual principles. His challenge is to consider a shift from acting in response to outward rules to a consideration of personal, inner integrity. Dyer's challenge is that we not "let the voices within you grow faint and inaudible in favor of that societal conspiracy." St. Paul made the same appeal to his readers in the Corinthian church who had buckled under the pressure of societal conformity: "Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly" (1 Cor 13:13, The Message). It seems truth finds its way across time. Do what you do because it is right and it fits with your spiritual truths.

     Today there are caregivers everywhere buckling under the pressure of societal conspiracy to cut costs at the expense of quality care, to be efficient at the expense of effectiveness, to be professional at the expense of being loving. It will take courage to stand, with Love, to be the presence that says this is the better way. We can find our way to both with truth and in the light of Love if we are willing to courageous, and extravanganly, Love. We can be the voice of Love, and that is the greatest and most courageous justification of all.

Day 224 - How Our Fate is Shaped

Our fate is shaped from within ourselves outward, never from without inward. - from The Anatomy of Peace - The Arbinger Institute

   In a true story I use often, a hospital housekeeper hears a cry of sorrow from an elderly patient. What are her choices? a) she can ignore the call - patient care is not part of her job description and patients often cry out from their beds, b) she can report the cry to the nursing station where everyone is busy, c) she can answer the call by listening to Love.

   Fortunately for the patient, the housekeeper chose this last option. Putting down her mop, she walked into the room, held the patient's hand, and helped him gain peace.
   Who shapes our fate? In yesterday's Journal, I offered a quote from David Whyte about the way we both shape and are shaped by the world around us.
   There is a significant risk that we may mistake what Whyte meant. Hopefully, the above quote will help further illuminate the question of how we shape our fate. The world can never determine our destiny us unless we let it.

   As caregivers know, it is actually possible for example, for a cancer patient to be happier than a physically healthy rich person. The difference is all in our choice of attitude. 

   The highly successful author, television star and producer, Art Linkletter (now age 97) says: "It's not what happens to you in life that counts. It's how you deal with what happens that makes all the difference."
   Naturally, Linkletter understands that the key lies in how we choose to engage with the life events that swirl about us. Whatever the world delivers to us, we can deal with it if we remember that everything depends on our choice.

   The world throws all kinds of brickbats and bouquets our way. How can we choose to receive these deliveries and still maintain our hold on our fate?
   This is terribly difficult to apply in so many circumstances. The Old Testament example of Job is the most common illustration of a human who had visited upon him every kind of disaster except death itself. Yet, Job survived with his faith in tact. 
   What should the housekeeper do if a supervisor criticizes her for stepping outside her job description? The answer may be found in this wisdom: "If we do the right thing, we don't have to justify our actions to anyone else."
   What do you think about this? How does this notion of shaping your own destiny help you, if at all, as a caregiver?

-Erie Chapman

Day 223 - Shaping Your World

We shape our self    
to fit the world

and by the world
are shaped again. 

-David Whyte

    Saturday evening, I found myself in the ER of a local hospital with a loved one. Because of how much I care for this loved one, I thought, "I have to use everything I know about hospitals to shape this experience." Instead, I found myself doing almost nothing because I was so pleased (and surprised) at how well we were treated both upon entering and throughout the night until the next day's release.

   Naturally, there were delays, but the seven or eight people we encountered were uniformly pleasant and professional. Of course, I don't know how the system would have worked if we had been rude, drunk, poor, a minority or all of the above. But, I had the impression that we might still have gotten excellent treatment.

   Each of us goes through terrific contortions to shape ourselves to fit the world. Less obvious, perhaps, is how the world shapes us.

   Depending upon our goals, we find ourselves looking at those around us and seeking to change our shape so that we can fit through the narrow door into society and into the company of those whose approval we seek.

   This world is incredibly harsh toward those who don't shape themselves "just right." Those who look "different" feel rejection the moment they enter the school system. Those who aren't skilled enough or smart enough or charming enough may soon find themselves shunned and broken-hearted.

   We say it's up to us to shape our own reactions. After all, we are the ones who decide how we feel, right? Yet, the truth is that in order to stay in touch with the world, we need to look for clues in the behavior of others. If we see only rejection and attack, it can be terribly hard to hold onto a positive self-image.

   The world of caregiving is always demanding. What I wonder is how effective you and I can be in re-shaping various aspects of it that we can influence. We can allow mean-spirited supervisors to destroy our work experience and the work culture around us. Or, we can strive to keep our focus on the patients before us and not buy into criticism when it is ill-founded.

   We already know all of this. Yet, when I saw David Whyte's opening lines (above) in his poem, "Working Together," I immediately thought of how many times I have allowed the world to discourage me and knock me down.

   Whyte writes that just as a plane trusts the air passing around its wings to hold its weight so may we choose to trust what we cannot see. Here are the closing lines of this same poem:

   ...look for the true

   shape of [your] own self,
   by forming it well

   to the great intangibles about us.

   How about you? How do you deal with the world's efforts to shape your caregiving experience?

-Erie Chapman   

Day 222- Leaving & Arriving

"And presently, she rises. Though in pain/ You let her leave - the loved one always leaves." - James Merrill

   My wife and I are the kind of sentimentalists that sometimes say goodbye to hotel rooms we've stayed in or to apartments we've rented. For us, it's about cherishing and respecting places where we've had a good experience. Or maybe we're just silly romantics. Of course, saying goodbye to our children over and over through the years has often been heart-rending.

   That is why, as autumn edges near, I think of another kind of goodbye, a kind of dying that accompanies the falling leaves. It is the departure of children for college.

   It's a happy event, of course. We want our children to be independent and strong as well as loving. After all, we don't want them to stay overly dependent, tethered to us all of their lives, do we? And, college is what we have nudged them to study for, right?

  But, the joys of college do not, of course, dissolve the pain we feel when we say goodbye. It's hard to watch our daughters or sons turn their eyes away from us to face the new world of college or a military assignment or marriage or something else that draws them away.  

   My wife wrote a poem about this once. It was about our own son's departure on a summer trip. "Goodbye, you who are always leaving me...," the poem began.

   We weave bonds of love, close relationships, only to see the bonds torn and rewoven into another, sometimes richer tapestry - one that holds all the threads of our memories. 

   Consider leave-taking that happens regularly between hospice caregivers and patients. Dying is the ultimate goodbye. At hospices, everybody understands this. Still, the extended dying process is often a time of deep intimacy and caregivers are a significant part of this. This is why, in hospice care, leadership has an even higher calling to take care of the people who are taking care of people. For hospice caregivers often begin to feel like family to their patients and grieve with them as the patient departs. With each death, there is a rending and then, hopefully, a healing.

   We will forever be saying, "Goodbye" to someone that is leaving. I have said goodbyes over and over to our our son as he headed off to camp at age 10, returning a month later already changed; to our daughter, on her very first day of kindergarten. Recorded faithfully on my Super-8 movie camera is her smiling, 5-year-old face as she waves happily at me. She is now thirty-seven and a mother herself, already having trouble absorbing that her 20-month-old will, if things go well, one day head off to college. Each departure is a kind of dying, a sunset setting on one chapter of our lives. 

   Finally, there is the good news. There is the sunrise of new chapters. Many farewells are followed by homecomings - Parents welcoming children home, nurses welcoming new patients. These welcomes are important because we know this is what Love is about - a holding on, a letting go, and, perhaps, a return or the opening of a new page in our life story.

   Somehow, although we know things are never the same, we create the illusion that our children will always be with us or that maybe the patient won't die. When the end of this phase occurs, we struggle to hold on or, more likely, we simply mourn the passing as if standing on the shore waving to the sails of a departing ship.

   Each of us ages into a new stage in our lives all the time - each chapter filled with not only hellos and goodbyes, but with the experience that makes greetings and goodbyes so difficult, and such a rich part of our lives. It is our caring which weaves gold into ordinary fabric.   

   How do leave-takings affect you in your work as a caregiver?

-Erie Chapman  

Days 219-221 - Waking Up vs. Waking Down

"We make the difference, and that alone is why I wake up every day." - Victoria Facey

   As I was reviewing the comments made following Cathy Self's beautiful essay yesterday (Day 218 - Who Are We?) I found, as is always the case, some lovely words. When Victoria Facey talks about "why I wake up," she's not talking about just opening her eyes. She's talking about waking up to a world where she sees a chance to help others. This is the true call of the caregiver.

   So many millions "wake down" every day. As soon as their eyes open, they see before them dread and discouragement. They see only drugery in their jobs and therefore in their lives. It can be agonzing to enter a workplace every day where bosses seek to crush love by imposing fear and uncertainty.

   Similarly, Barbara Morgan commented, "I choose to listen and hold a hand for free because it feels right... in the moment." In this one line, Ms. Morgan describes the foundation for all who care with Love. Most of us can't afford to work for no money at all. But, for the true caregiver, the chance to share Love is far more important than the small pay most receive. 

   In fact, when any job becomes only about money, all true joy in our work evaporates. Special thanks to all of those who comment in the spirit of Ms. Facey and Ms. Morgan. They are the reason the Journal of Sacred Work was created. Their words comes as healing lights into our world.

   What words will you awaken to today? What will you speak or write? How might your words and gestures heal?

-Erie Chapman 

Day 218 - Who are You?

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure" - Marianne Williamson.

     Margaret Wheatley is a well-known author in the academic world of leadership and science. She has explored why we as humans organize and how we do so. She suggests that we organize "always to affirm and enrich our identity." We come together because of who we believe ourselves to be. Ask any employee of an organization to help create a vision for the organization and it is almost always grander than that of the leaders. People are drawn to and love the work they hope will be. But with time, that passion dims and disenchantment grows as procedures overtake ardor, rules and policies overwhelm purpose. And resentment finds a foothold. Any wonder retention rates are dropping and turnover abounds in healthcare organizations all over our country.

     We are, in fact, busy in our work of giving care. There are programs to fulfill, actions to take, next moves to plan. But perhaps it is a good thing, from time to time, to revisit purpose. Why have we come together? How do our hopes and desires connect to that purpose? Is this purpose large enough to invite the contributions of us all? How can the world be different because of us? What are the possibilities?

     Poet and author Marianne Williamson sheds some insight on what limits the possibilities with her words (quoted above). Fear holds us back. But then Williamson offers a daring thought as she continues: "It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." Maybe purpose is the fulfillment of our identity as made known by the light of Love.

     So who are we? Who are we to bring healing, with Love, to those in need? Do we know our own possibility, or will we forever be bound by fear and darkness. What really matters? Wheatley writes "We can't resolve organizational incoherence with training programs about values, or with beautiful reports that explain the company's way, or by the charisma of any leader. We can resolve it only with coherence - fundamental integrity about who we are....In organizations, clear identity is an unmistakable and certain call." So, who are you? What is the call of your life?

Day 217 - The Courage to Leap

 What I see, in this fuzzy little photo I took with my cell phone of my 19-month granddaughter, looks very much like joy and peace. Sonia calls this fun part of the toy store "a ball pit."

   The mere mention of the "ball pit," at any time of day or evening, brings a smile to Sonia's face as she instantly thinks back. She is no doubt reflecting on that happy little tingle she feels each time she overcomes her fear of falling and jumps into something that turns out to be a fun fall instead of a painful one.

   Young as she is, she knows this fear of falling. She also knows now how comfortable it feels, after this kind of jump, to lie amid the friendly plastic balls. No one is shouting fear at her. And she has no awareness of the troubles of the world, some of which she is bound to experience personally if she is blessed with long life.

   At the moment, she is simply happy. 

   In order to find her happy moments in this little game, Sonia had to find the courage to make her first jump. Falling is bad, isn't it? she must have thought. But, instead, she was being urged to make this leap. To jump, she had to trust the urging of her father. Her trust was rewarded.

   We've all had this kind of experience, although we may not have analyzed it. The great philosopher and theologian Soren Kierkegaard wrote that if we want to know Love, we must overcome one of our inborn fears with a leap into the arms of a God we cannot see. Kierkegaard called this crucial decision "the leap of faith." It is a decision that calls us to let go of logic in favor of trust.

   Sonia's mind analyzes the situation before her with the knowledge that jumping is dangerous. Before her first jump, as she surveyed the colored balls below her, how could she accept that it would be safe to risk jumping?

   It's a tiny example, but I find I often learn the most from such everyday moments.

   Our minds tell us to trust what our logic reveals. Meanwhile, our memories poke us with painful recollections of past betrayals.

   In the movie "The Great Santini" the tough father played by Robert Duvall tries to teach his son about betrayal. He has him jump from a high place promising he will catch him. He then steps away and lets his son take a painful fall. He then says something like, "That'll teach you not to trust anyone, son."

   This message of distrust is very powerful in all our lives. We've been tricked before and it often hurts. Why should we trust? Why should we Love patients and co-workers and leaders when we have a mean-spirited supervisor who seems to govern out of fear?

   Every leap of faith requires a moment of courage. There is always the risk that we will be hurt again as we have been before. And there is that time when, in mid-leap, we experience the panic that comes when we begin to doubt if we will ever be caught - if God is really there. And there is the special joy that exists only for those willing to surrender to Love and leap all the way into her lap. 

   How do you feel about taking such a leap?

-Erie Chapman

Day 216 - Those Blasted "Little" Events

   As my son mentioned to me recently, if a fortune teller had told Cambridge Police Sgt. James Crowley (above, left) three weeks ago that he'd be having a beer in the White House pretty soon with the President, the Vice President, and a distinguished Harvard professor, what would he have thought? Would he have imagined it would happen because he rescued a child who fell from a bulding? Would it be because he fended off a gang of killers? Maybe it would be because he arrested a major terrorist in the course of a traffic stop?

   All these guesses might be more reasonable than what occurred. What no one could guess is that Sgt. Crowley would become famous because of his choice to make an arrest for misdemeanor disorderly conduct - a charge so minor it was subsequently dismissed. It's often not the little nature of the deed that counts but how people respond to it. In this case, the small-seeming event became world wide headlines.

   It's those blasted little things that set our world on end. Tragically, a lifetime career of professional perfection can be ruined in a split second with a wrong clinical decision or one bad call at the wrong time. Forty years of safe driving and ideal citizenship can end with one glance away from the road leading to death. A clean reptutation built over decades can be marred in seconds by a scurrilous charge - whether true or false. One wrong line or two in an email can cost someone their well-earned job.

   I saw this kind of thing happen to a veteran school teacher I helped defend early in my legal career. The teacher was charged with molestation based on a few words from a student up to no good himself. Although the teacher was aquitted and the child was shown to be a liar who made the charge because he was upset with a bad grade, the teacher's career, and life, were ruined.

   It's no wonder that professional caregivers live with a certain anxiety about mistakes. After all, they have people's lives in their hands.

   If we've heard it once, after an accident, we've heard it a thousand times: "It all happened so fast." Of course, if it happened in slow motion, the tragic mistake that leaves someone paralyzed or blinded could have been avoided.

   All of this leads me to a perhaps surprising conclusion: We need to be humble and forgiving in the presence of our lives and the lives of others. No matter how strong and stable we may feel, the slightest moment, the most innocent comment, the least slip of the hand, can bring our lives tumbling down. Just ask the millions of unemployed walking the streets today. Many may have once have felt secure, even cocky, in their jobs as they looked with disdain on the legions of unemployed they have now joined. No one big thing happened to cause all of this sadness in our economy. Instead, it was a series of those blasted "little" things pilling one upon another until they became a worldwide disaster.  

   When we look around to see our lives, or the lives of others, in shambles, there is only one grace that will save us. It is Love.

What do you think?

-Erie Chapman 

Day 215 - What We Can Do

Do what you can on this planet to relieve suffering by constantly working on yourself to be an instrument for the cessation of suffering. - Ram Dass (below)

   Neuro Intensive Care nurse Deadre Hall is already doing the best she can to follow Ram Dass's command. She has spent more than thirty years comforting those struck down by strokes, knocked unconcious in auto accidents, or paralyzed by disease. In her personal life, she does the same kind of thing bringing her love to family and friends.

   As a woman of faith, Deadre is one of those rare Christians who actually practices what she believes. She doesn't just talk about the need to relieve the suffering of others, she does it all the time.

   Like Deadre, Lisa Graham, a home care nurse at Alive Hospice, is committed to bringing comfort to those who are in their last days. The recent documentary, A Place Called Alive, chronicles some of Lisa's efforts to deliver loving care to her patients, including those disfigured by the ravages of cancer.

   Since we all know people who are profiles of caring like Deadre and Lisa, why do we need instruction from Dass? I feel chronically inadequate in this respect since I am too often inclined to choose my own comfort over relieving the suffering of others. 

   When Mother Theresa was asked why God allows suffering she pointed out that people and society had more than enough resources and potential to relieve starvation, thirst, and many diseases. The problem was the lack of human will to commit to relieving the agony of others.

   Perhaps, becoming an instrument to relieve suffering is about much more than acquiring skills. Maybe, it has to do with our personal choice to listen for the call of need (which is always present) and to meet it with Love's healing embrace.

   What do you think?

-Erie Chapman