Journal of Sacred Work

Day 271 - Love In The Presence of "Ugly."

   My colleague, Cathy Self, returned from working with one of our client hospitals in Texas with an entertaining story. One of the staff at the hospital had been listening to the CD of my book, Radical Loving Care, in her kitchen. The tape was set on open speaker so that she could cook while listening.  Her ten year old daughter came in, listened to the CD for awhile, and then said to her mom, "Why do adults need to be taught how to love?"
   Why, indeed? 
   Right before I heard that story, Dawn Meadows-Thrasher, another colleague, brought a hard tale about love to my attention. On December 5, 2003, Carolyn Thomas was laughing on the phone with a friend when Kelly, her estranged husband, burst into her room and shot her, the bullet tearing across her face. He then murdered Carolyn's mother. According to police, the motive stemmed from love twisted into insane jealousy.
    Ms. Thomas lingered near death for many days. When she recovered, she could only see out of one eye. What she saw in the mirror must have horrified her. Her once beautiful face was terribly distorted to the point where she became known as "The Woman Without a Face."
    Extensive reconstructive surgery has rebuilt Carolyn's face to the point seen in the image on this page. Much more important, Carolyn has become the face of courage to millions who have seen her on Oprah and through countless appearances across the country. She has become an eloquent spokesperson on the subject of domestic violence, speaking on behalf of countless, mostly anonymous women who have been subjected to the terror of chronic and acute abuse.
   How do we find Love in the presence of what many would describe as an "ugly face?" Caregivers with open hearts help heal people like Carolyn every day. Could we find Love for Ms. Thomas if we saw her in the grocery store and didn't know her heart-rending story? Or would we simply feel that condescending reaction called pity?
   Why do adults need to be taught how to love? Somehow, we forget what we know, or try and twist Love into something it is not. Love does not possess. Possessiveness toward any other human being comes from fear, not Love.
   Meanwhile, Carolyn Thomas says she has found her purpose in life. She says she used to wonder, "Am I here to be a machine operator for the rest of my life?" Now she knows that a big part of her purpose in life is to teach other adults how to love.

-Erie Chapman

Days 269-270 - Finding God in Ourselves - A Two-Part Meditation

"In order to find God in ourselves, we must stop looking at ourselves, stop checking and verifying ourselves in the mirror of our own futility, and be content to be in [God] and to do whatever [God] wills, according to our limitations..." - Rev. Thomas Merton (1915-1968)                                                                                                                     I.

   When we hear that we are touched by the spark of the divine, that we are born in the image of God, it is natural for us to look within, to see what God's spirit may look like as it lives within us. For those of us, including caregivers, who constantly find ourselves falling short of our own standards, this kind of reflection can be perplexing. How could I have been born in the image of God when I have so many flaws? 

   Reverend Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk of the abbey of Gethsemani, Kentucky, spent much of his life writing to us about his insights into the nature of God and how God finds expression in our lives. 

   We should evaluate our actions "not in light of our own illusions, but in the light of [God's] reality which is all around us in the things and people we live with," Merton wrote.

   For caregivers, this suggests that the only way we might see God in ourselves is by how we see God in others and in "the things" of the earth. 

   God's Love lives not only in the "beautiful" people and in the "beautiful" things, but in every person and in all things.

   Here is the challenge for Lovers: If God lives in all people and in all things, how do we find God in what what we think of as ugly and hateful? One pathway to answering this challenge may lie in how we minister to the "ugliest" people who come to us in need: the homeless person, the morbidly obese patient, and, perhaps hardest of all, the patient who is angry and depressed and shouts nothing but calumny at us.

                                                                            II. 

    Seeing God in the "ugly," is a challenge modern artists present to us all the time. I once saw an exhibit of fine photographs by the great artist, Irving Penn (example, left.) The only subject in each photograph was cigarette butts. Presented through Penn's loving eye, I saw what I thought of as ugly become beautiful. 

   How can we see Love in a tyrant or a sadist? The only way I know how to answer this question is by suggesting that some people live their earthly existence in the fear-flooded shadows, more distant from God's light, and some live more clearly illuminated by Love. 

   It is the lens through which we look that determines beauty, helps us live Love and aids our worldly eyes in seeing Love's presence. When our vision is dominated by fear, ugliness and hate emerge all around. When our heart is informed by Love, we see Love - in all people and in all things.

   How does Love color your life as a caregiver? How do the contents of your heart affect your view of the "ugly" around you?

-Erie Chapman

Day 266-268 - Open Forum

This weekend presents a further opportunity for caregivers to share with each other. May God be with you each and every day as you share your love with those in need.

Day 265 - Undying Hope

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

    

Three decades ago, Dr. Jerome Groopman began his journey to understand the power of hope. As a hematologist and oncologist Dr. Groopman, by his own admission, failed to consider the impact of hope on his patients' wellness and illness. Like so many of us, it took a very personal experience to awaken within him the possibility that hope matters. He discovered that something indescribable by scientific norms can and does exert a potent and palpable effect. What Dr. Groopman discovered was an "authentic biology of hope." Hope changes us profoundly in spirit and in body.

     As I walk through the hallways in many of our places of health caring I have to look closely to find hope in the eyes of caregivers. For many the fear is palpable - will we survive the economic threats, will the next wave of change overtake us? Eyes are clouded where fear lives, souls cannot conceive of light under fear's shadow. Like Dr. Groopman's admitted discounting of the impact of hope on his patient's health, so many of our leaders fail to consider the impact of hope in the health and wellbeing of caregivers. 

     In speaking of his patients' musings linking emotions and maladies, Dr. Groopman writes: "For years I diverted and dismissed their inquiries because I did not know how to answer." Perhaps that is true also for those in leadership - corporate vision has been too long focused on the metric, sight for the unseeable too long ignored. Dr. Groopman eventually turned his eyes, and ears, and heart to a truth that has begun to emerge from the pages of science as well as in the beat of the soul - hope lives at the very heart of healing. "For those who have hope," writes Dr. Groopman, "it may help some to live longer, and it will help all to live better." How do we offer hope, not only to our patients and clients who seek our compassionate care, but also for for each other, for ourselves in these days of uncertainty and change? Where does your hope live? How does Love give you hope?

Day 264 - Why Do We Thirst?

"My water will be like a stream that gives eternal life." John 4:14

   The ancient story of the woman at the well has been retold for centuries. Anyone who has heard this story understands except for one person. She is the Samarian woman who comes to a well for water. Jesus tells her that with his "living water" she will never be thirsty again. But she does not comprehend his message.

   Do we, as caregivers, truly comprehend the power in Jesus' words? If so, why do we thirst? 

   Speaking only for myself, I know that I not only need, but am often desperate, for the love of others. As I age in a country where youth is king, I can feel people seeing me differently. To some, I may no longer appear like the energetic leader who once wielded a small amount of "power" for awhile. Increasingly, I may seem irrelevant.

   When I find my thoughts turning this way I start feeling abandoned. In my self-pity, I search, like the woman at the well, for something I think will satisfy my worldly thirst - my need for affirmation.  

   This search, of course, is foolish and cannot have a good end. Love is always available to all of us - especially when we stop searching and simply receive God's gift.

   This is the news Jesus offered - to know that we are always loved and can love others with no fear that the well will run dry. It is a gift those of other faiths also receive in another way. We can all know God's Love.

   Caregivers, who may experience isolation on the night shift or in the middle of the day, know the sadness that rises in the heart when the dragon of abandonment appears. Where is Love at times like these? Where is the God who is supposed to comfort us in our grief?

   Of course, the answer is that God's Love is always present to us. We discover this when we let go of fear.

   Do you, as a caregiver, find yourself feeling "thirsty" in the middle of your work? What helps relieve this thirst?

-Erie Chapman    

Day 263 - Letting the Music Play

   "For the animal to be happy, it is enough that this moment be enjoyable. But man [sic] is hardly satisfied with this at all." - Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity.

  What is "the lit angel we desire?" (to use David Whyte's phrase). How do we hold her close? 

   The truth was hard for me to absorb when I read Watt's book in college. We "hold" nothing. Instead, we experience love, beauty, boredom and pain as they flow through us, always moving.

   This was confusing to me. What could be wise about insecurity? I was feeling plenty of anxiety and uncertainty as a college sophomore. I wanted to drive those "weak" feelings away and replace them with courage and elan. Insecurity seemed to me to be inconsistent with "cool.

    Of course, Watts wanted to help us to learn how to accept the chaos of the world rather than to fight it. He wanted us to learn the costly lessons insecurity can teach. He wanted to remind us that angels may be eternal, but we are not.  

   

   Animals are clearly better able to stay "in the moment" more than are humans. We spend so many of our moments anticipating the future. If we are scheduled for surgery in a week, we are likely to fill that week with dread. The surgery creates pain for the full week instead of the actual period of the operation.

   Caregivers, like the rest of us, know this. What humans can do that animals cannot is to make a decision to accept the daily uncertainties that are unavoidable. Instead of dreading any future event, we can choose to accept both the event and the period leading up to it.

   Like so many important things, this idea is so much easier to write than to live. Yet, the more we accept uncertainty, the more it loses its ability to frighten us.

   Moments cannot be trapped and held. That is one of the things that makes pleasure so precious. We cannot freeze notes of music because the very act of interrupting music's flow destroys its beauty. Even the beauty of a painting or a "still" photograph is fleeting because its beauty is a moving and changeable thing for each of us. 

   If we are truly to live Love, not fear, than this means never living fear in any moment. It means letting the music play through us. 

   The end of the shift will arrive. The end of the week will come just as will its sequel. Instead of spending our days yearning for their end, what if we let them flow through us? What if we chose to experience each moment fully, carrying with us the caregiver's light?

-Erie Chapman

Day 262 - When Peace Matters

   In a gorgeous and unique film called Silent Light ( Stellet Licht, 2007) the female lead, Marianne, weighed down by her mate's infidelity, says something startling: "Peace is better than love," she tells her husband. 

   Immediately, I wondered: Doesn't peace flow from love? Aren't they the inextricably linked? 

  

   In the context of the film, I discovered that when Marianne speaks of love, she means the romantic kind. We all know what a fragile thing romance can be, sometimes ranging from the heights of euphoria to the agony of betrayal. 

   God's Love does not possess. Therefore, Love does not know betrayal or fear. Inside Love, we can always find peace if we can let our fear fall away. In that inner stillness, the door opens and Love's light arrives.

   The noise of the day makes caregivers yearn for quiet. Yet, quiet and peace are not the same. Lists and obligations may assault any period of silence, bringing more cacaphony than serenity.

   Peace is a gift that lives within us all the time. We may discover it emerge from the woods as we listen to the rhythm of our breathing or practice yoga meditation or pray. Once discovered, we may learn how to drink from this inner well of peace amid times when anxiety threatens.

   The grace of peace is something we all observe in gifted people. Each of us knows someone who maintains that precious sense of calm across days and nights. At best, I see this in one out of ten nurses. When seen, it is a special joy. And every one of us has it resting deep within, perhaps obscured by the many masks we wear. 

 

   When does peace matter? Perhaps, the answer is: all the time. 

   How do you experience peace in your life? What is it that helps you find this peace.?

-Erie Chapman

   

Days 259-261 - Where Do We Belong?

   It's remarkable to me how hard we have to listen to the world to determine where we belong in it. Periodically, I find myself having to listen anew so that I can adjust my position. But why? Why do I feel I have to "fit" with whatever setting I occupy at the moment?

   Caregivers, especially in the midst of strife, may ask themselves: "Is this where I belong? Is this the right play for me? Is this my calling?"

   The mind may have different answers to the question then does the heart.

   These questions can be exhausting. Accordingly, many people stop asking. The problem with this choice is that it may cast a caregiver into a prolonged period of going through the motions disconnected from their truest calling. 

   How do you deal with this challenge? How do you know when you are in the right place - the place where you belong?

-Erie Chapman

p.s. for those of you who may have seen the link for the youtube clip I tried to post, it is now inaccessible. Sorry. In any case, it was the one of the father at the Phillies game catching a foul ball, then handing it to his 3-year old daughter who promptly throws it back on the field. He hugs her.

Day 258 - Three Wondrous Answers

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

     Ask most caregivers who and what they must give their attention to and you will likely hear a long, detailed list. It is little wonder that many of us do not believe we can embrace the miracle of five minutes for self-care in the midst of the noise. One caregiver told me she feels pulled in so many directions her sense of direction has been completely lost. Her story reminded me of Leo Tolstoy's (1828-1910) telling of the Emperor's three questions. It will take a few minutes to read through, but perhaps will be a worthy read for you today. It is said Tolstoy did not know the emperor's name...

     "One day it occurred to a certain emperor that if he only knew the answers to three questions, he would never stray in any matter.

        What is the best time to do each thing?   Who are the most important people to work with?  What is the most important thing to do at all times?

     The emperor issued a decree throughout his kingdom announcing that whoever could answer the questions would receive a great reward. Many who read the decree made their way to the palace at once, each person with a different answer. In reply to the first question, one person  advised that the emperor make up a thorough time schedule, consecrating every hour, day, month, and year for certain tasks and then follow the schedule to the letter. Only then could he hope to do every task at the right time.  Another person replied that it was impossible to plan in advance and that the emperor should put all vain amusements aside and remain attentive to everything in order to know what to do at what time.  Someone else said that certain matters required immediate decision and could not wait for consultation, but if he wanted to know in advance what was going to happen he should consult magicians and soothsayers.

     The response to the second question also lacked accord.  One person said that the emperor needed to place all his trust in administrators, another urged reliance on priests and monks, while others recommended physicians.  Still others put their faith in warriors.  The third question drew a similiar variety of answers.  Some said science was the most important pursuit. Others insisted on religion. Yet others claimed the most important thing was military skill. The emperor was not pleased with any of the answers, and no reward was given.

     After several nights of reflection, the emperor resolved to visit a hermit who lived up on the mountain and was said to be an enlightened man. The emperor wished to find the hermit to ask him the three questions, though he knew the hermit never left the mountains and was known to receive only the poor, refusing to have anything to do with persons of wealth or power. So the emperor disguised himself as a simple peasant and ordered his attendants to wait for him at the foot of the mountain while he climbed the slope alone to seek the hermit.

     Reaching the holy man's dwelling place, the emperor found the hermit digging a garden in front of his hut....The labor was obviously hard on him....The emperor approached him and said, 'I have come to ask your help with three questions: When is the best time to do each thing? Who are the most important people to work with? What is the most important thing to do at all times?'  The hermit listened attentively but only patted the emperor on the shoulder and continued digging. The emperor said, 'You must be tired. Here, let me give you a hand with that.' The hermit thanked him, handed the emperor the spade, and then sat down on the ground to rest...One hour passed, then two. Finally, the sun began to set behind the mountain. The emperor put down the spade and said to the hermit, 'I came here to ask if you could answer my three questions. But if you can't give me any answer, please let know so that I can get on my way home.'"

     Tolstoy continues on, telling of the sudden appearance just then of a man, wounded and bleeding from a deep gash. Together the emperor and the hermit cared for the stranger and they all fell into a deep and heavy sleep. Waking the next morning, the emperor looed to the wounded man who stared at him intently and whispered "Please forgive me." The story unfolds as the stranger tells of his resolve to take venegance on the emperor for the loss of his family and property at the hand of the emperor's last war. Seeking to kill the emperor, the stranger was instead caught and wounded by the emperor's attendants at the foot of the mountain. He then said "Luckily I escaped and ran here. If I hadn't met you I would surely be dead by now. I had intended to kill you, but instead you saved my life!...Please grant me your forgiveness." Reconciled and promising to make amends, the emperor sends the stranger back home guided and helped by his own attendants. Before returning to his palace, the emperor sought out the hermit for one last try to find answers to his three questions.

     "The hermit stood up and looked at the emperor....'your questions have already been answered.' 'How's that?' the emperor asked, puzzled. 'Yesterday, if you had not taken pity on my age and given me a hand with digging these beds, you would have been attacked by that man on your way home....Therefore the most important time was the time you were digging in the beds, the most important person was myself, and the most important pursuit was to help me. Later, when the wounded man ran up here, the most important time was the time you spent dressing his wound, for if you had not cared for him he would have died and you would have lost the chance to be reconciled with him. Likewise, he was the most important person, and the most important pursuit was taking care of his wound.  Remember that there is only one important time and that is now. The present moment is the only time over which we have dominion. The most important person is always the person you are with, who is right before you, for who knows if you will have dealings with any other person in the future? The most important pursuit is making the person standing at your side happy, for that alone is the pursuit of life."

     Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buhddist monk, has written "it is the very people around us that we must live for first of all. Are we working for other humans, or are we just working for the name of an organization?" Seems like a pretty good question to me. Perhaps there are really four wondrous questions, and the answers are there, right in front of us, living in Love.

Day 258 - God At Home

  It's a hard truth for me to face. I am often better at living Love in work settings than I am at home. During my years of running hospitals, I worked hard to provide a loving example to the thousands of employee partners I was privileged to lead.

  Upon arriving home, sometimes exhausted and still on edge from work, I would be startled at my own irritability and impatience. Obviously, I wasn't the CEO at home and couldn't direct operations through a phalanx of vice presidents and directors.

   Fortunately for me, I was and am blessed with a caring wife who has stuck with me for forty-three years. We have two marvelous children and each of them has children. Somehow, all of them have survived even in circumstances where I did not always live the Love I so often preach about.  

   I've spoken with many caregivers who struggle with this kind of challenge. At the end of a twelve hour shift, many nurses and housekeepers go home to a place where they are also the primary caregiver for small children and sometimes for aging parents. Obviously, this can place a terrific amount of pressure on already tired mothers and fathers.

  All of this points up the terrific importance of self-care. One nurse told me that she has a five-minute self care practice that has helped her enormously. Her family knows that as soon as she arrives home from work, she needs five minutes alone to rest, pray and prepare herself to join her husband and children.

   So many people tell me they don't have time for self care. How hard can it be to find five minutes once or twice a day? In this five minutes, the goal is not to review to-do lists. The best five minute relaxation involves closing your eyes and listening to your breathing. Let everything else go by focusing on the magic and rhythm of your breath.

   It's hard for God to be present when we're caught in the middle of noise - noise from the radio or televion or i-pod or computer; noise from the lists running through our heads and the noise of worries about whether we have done everything we need to do. Five minutes of quiet, focusing on breathing, can do wonders in helping us open our hearts to God's Love.

   Do you think five minutes a day would help you? Can you find that five minutes of quiet? What if you thought that five minutes would, indeed, help your heart make way for the presence of God - at home as well as at work?

   Called or not called, Love is present. Are we present to Love?

-Erie Chapman

Day 257 - God at Work, II - Watering Sticks

   I first heard the story, which dates from the 4th century C.E., during divinity school. It concerns a monk named Abba John (below) who was ordered to water a dry stick each day. He did this for three years, hauling water a long distance from an oasis in the desert in order to obey his order. The task took most of each day at the end of which the sticks, of course, were merely wet.

   At the end of three years, the stick miraculously blossomed. The monk's spiritual father showed the blossoms to the other monks: "Behold, the fruit of obedience," he told them.

   The first thing I wondered about in this strange tale was, What if the stick had never born fruit?" In my view, the example of obedience might be even stronger. 

   There are so many occasions when caregivers are called to "water sticks." Some daily and nightly tasks may seem pointless as well as endless. Sometimes the sticks bloom beautifully, sometimes they don't. It is the sacred effort which always bears fruit, whether seen or unseen. The power of the story of Abba John does not involve mindless obedience to another human. Instead, it suggests deep faith in surrendering to God's Love - consciously, prayerfully, and daily. 

    The guidance of Love is never pointless. The call of Love is never false. 

   Although I was not raised Catholic, I have always admired the faithfulness of the Benedictine monks, beginning in the 6th century, and the loving service of legions of other monks and nuns across centuries. The presence of occasional wrong behavior by a few does not contradict the endless, anonymous gifts of the many. 

   Surrendering to God's Love in our work is a daunting task. Instead of God, first line caregivers are often called to obey supervisors and the rules of organizations and the government. These rules may be important, however, as each of us knows (and perhaps forgets) it is Love that provides the answer to every question. 

   When we live Love, we always succeed.

   How do you accomplish "surrender" to God in your daily work?

-Erie Chapman. 

Day 256 - God at Work

"What we strive for/ in perfection/ is not what turns us/ into the lit angel/ we desire,// what disturbs/ and then nourishes/has everything/ we need." - David Whyte (from The House of Belonging)

   "We don't want people practicing religion here at work," I heard an executive say recently. "Keep your faith to yourself." I suppose this leader was trying to prevent employees here in the Bible Belt of Tennessee from evangelizing. But his message runs the great risk of being misinterpreted.

   Living God at work does not require that we bring a particular religion into our workplace. Yet, it breaks my heart to think that loving caregivers somehow feel that have to leave God in the car when they begin their job.

   Since God is Love, why would we leave God behind? If we are not living our faith as we labor, what are we living?

   Indeed, as Yale Divinity School Professor David Miller points out in his book, God at Work, the faith at work movement in America has deep roots. We can not only live our faith at work but need to if we are going to preserve the vitality of our souls.

   Fortunately, as Whyte points out, Love does not call us to perform perfectly. Courageous caregivers understand that their best efforts to be present to patients will nourish themselves as well as their patients.

   Whyte writes to all of us in a stanza I have quoted before, here: "Inside everyone/ is a great shout of joy/ waiting to be born."

   This "great shout" is the voice of Love. May we let this voice flow through us and into the hearts of others on this day and every day.

   What does it mean to you to bring God to your work?

-Erie Chapman 

Days 253-255 - One Good Word

"People are hungry,/ and one good word is bread/ for a thousand."  - David Whyte

   The ability of words to heal or to harm is well known, but chronically underestimated. How conscioius are we of the impact of our words? What does it mean to you when someone shows they care for you by the way they speak words of compassion? How much more could we do for each other if we could consciously choose words of warmth and peace and love?

   We all know the right words which makes it all the more confusing when we use the wrong ones. That is why I like to read poets like David Whyte, whose life is created around the words he chooses.

   We may not be able to write like Whyte. But, we can read him and other poets so that our ability, as caregivers, to express love to others becomes more eloquent and more healing.

   The words we say to others can change the body chemistry of both listener and speaker. Perhaps that is why we feel better when we use the language of Love.

   Wherever you are when you read this, I send you love and gratitude for the commitment you make to engage Love's light to meet the needs of the sick and vulnerable.

-Erie Chapman

Day 252 - Holding on to the Heart

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

     Dr. Rachel Remen tells a poignant story from her practice as a compassionate caregiver for those who live and die with cancer. One of her patients, a young mother of thirty-seven, had died of breast cancer. Dr. Remen had arranged to meet with the grieving husband and his young four-year-old daughter Kimmie. These are Dr. Remen's words:

     "We sat in silence watching Kimmie as she gently patted my cat. Feeling herself watched, she looked up. With a smile, she abandoned the cat and climbed into my lap. Reaching into her tiny pocket, she took something out and put it into my hand. It was a small stuffed velvet heart, obviously handmade. I looked at her father. 'It's a feelie heart,' he said. 'She never goes anywhere without it.' A friend had sent it from Bridges, a bereavement center in Tacoma, Washington, that serves children who have been touched by death. Small enough to put into a little pocket and take to school to hold and rub, these soft little hearts give children permission to hold their own hearts tenderly and to grieve. To remember that they were loved and know that they can love. Children carry them for as long as they need to, finding comfort in the softness when thoughts of their loss might otherwise overwhelm them."

     Dr. Remen continues..."Deeply moved, I held the little heart out to Kimmie. She took it and held it against her cheek for a long moment. Her mother had loved her fiercely. Perhaps that love could be a place of refuge for Kimmie now." Thousands of little hearts have been made by a group of volunteers who sew them by hand. No two hearts are exactly alike, and as Dr. Remen writes "each has a life of its own."

     Dr. Remen has a deeply loving heart for her fellow caregivers. She has written often about the burden many caregivers carry in their work, taken on in the earliest days of training. In her words, "We do not hold our own hearts tenderly. Many of us repress our losses and carry our own pain ungrieved, often for years. We have become numb, not because we don't care but because we don't grieve. Grief is the way that loss heals [italics added]. Dr. Remen has helped create communities of physicians and medical students across the country to help professional peers grieve together and give each other the permission and the courage to feel again. Perhaps this journal is a place where we can be such a community to one another.

     I suppose all of us carry a "feelie heart" of some type as we move through out the day. For some it may be a tangible reminder of hope and compassion. For others it may be a thought repeated silently or a visual reminder that stands ready to assuage the hurt or bolster the help. The practice of touch cards offers that moment of respite and renewal at the doorways of many Healing Hospitals across America. As Dr. Remen so beautifully writes, "no two hearts are exactly alike" whether made from velvet or beating in the chests of compassionate caregivers moving quietly, feeling deeply. What "feelie heart" do you carry, what gives you comfort in the midst of your giving care?

Day 251 - Favorite Daydreams

  When my sister Martha, a caregiver at The Toledo Hospital, is feeling sick herself (or just bored) she likes to transport herself to her favorite place. Through the magic of daydreams, she finds herself in La Jolla, California, gazing out at the gorgeous Pacific as he rises towards the shore.

   Important as it is to be fully present, we all enjoy the occasional refuge daydreams provide. One of my favorite poets, Robert Bly, describes this remarkably in the opening stanza of "Night."

   If I think of a horse wandering about sleeplessly/ All night on this short grass covered with moonlight,/ I feel a joy,/ as if I had thought of a pirate ship ploughing through dark flowers. 

   What are the daydreams that bring you comfort amid your harried life as a caregiver?

-Erie Chapman [painting by Marcus Stone]                                                                                        

Day 250 - Labor Day's Labor

   Except when I'm meditating, I have lots of trouble sitting still and relaxing the way most people seem to do. I don't think this is good and it is certainly the opposite of what I am recommending to caregivers all the time - to practice good self care.

   On Labor Day morning, I walked a few steps to the high part of our tiny backyard. Chickadees chattered warnings to each other as if I might harm them. The cicadas sounded unusually desperate, perhaps aware that, like all their ancestors, their life's season is brief. Raindrops from a night storm clung to their own last moments as the sun adopted its mid-morning angle.     

    As I sat on the curved concrete bench that is the only piece of furniture in our yard, I thought about all the caregivers that were laboring on Labor Day. As everyone knows, hospitals, nursing homes and hospices never close.

   In the same way, people are always falling ill or falling into acccidents. They need skilled help to raise them back to balance. And they need it from loving caregivers willing to work while others are enjoying a day of rest.

   I've been watching the moon a lot recently. Too often, I miss out on the way he sits up there all white on his navy blanket.

   I wonder how many caregivers, walking to or from their cars in a parking lot drenched by night take a moment to gaze skyward; or whether they do that when they reach home. And I wonder how many caregivers, after working the night shift on Labor Day, will find some rest today.

-Erie Chapman

Days 246-249 - Our Choice to Awaken

Dear Caregivers,

   I happened to see the following quote on Facebook posted by our wonderful Journal supporter and California caregiver, Liz Wessel. The writing is the voice of American theologian Frederick Buechner (below) born in 1926:

   "To wake up is to be given back your life again.To wake up - and I suspect that you have a choice always, to wake or not to wake - is to be given back the world again and of all the possible worlds this world, this earth rich with bodies of the dead as our dreams are rich with their ghosts, this earth that we have seen hanging in space, our toy, our tomb, our precious jewel, our hope and our despair and our heart's delight. Waking in the new day, we are all of us Adam on the morning of creation, and the world is ours to name. Out of many fragments we are called to put together a self again."

   The world fragments us. How do we "put together a self again?" Perhaps, part of success involves easing back from the noise that often blocks our ability to experience Love's light. As a caregiver, I hope you will be able to rest this weekend and find quiet. This night, I hope you will lie on your back and gaze at the moon and the stars. I hope you will breathe in Love and let the noise fall away from you for awhile.

   As you rest, perhaps you will experience the chance for a new awakening.

   Thank you for your great gifts of caregiving. 

With love,

Erie

Day 245 - The Remedy of Love

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

Rabia al-Basri, an influential female Islamic saint of the 8th century and a central figure in the Sufi tradition, wrote of love in a short poem titled "Perfect Stillness":

Love is/ the perfect stillness/ and the greatest excitement, and most profound act,/ and the word almost as complete/ as His name.

She was quite young when she was separated from her parents, homeless, stolen and sold into slavery. History tells us Rabia was both physically and sexually abused from an early age, finally gaining her freedom in her fifties. She understood the suffering and degradation of unwanted touch, and yet felt the beauty of Love's healing. She once wrote: Show me where it hurts, God said, and every cell in my body burst into tears before His tender eyes.

Caregivers all over this country, and the world, reach out every day with tender eyes to offer shelter, physical care, and healing with love. What is it that compels us, in Erie Chapman's words from yesterday's journal, to "confront disease, reach into the wounds of the injured, embrace the woman or man or child who has been raped?" Why do we return day after day, night after long night, to meet need with love? Perhaps Rabia's words give some insight:

The sky gave me its heart

because it knew mine was not large enough to care

for the earth the way

it did.

 

Why is it we think of God so much?

Why is there so much talk

about love?

 

When an animal is wounded

no one has to tell it, “You need to heal”; so naturally it will nurse

itself the best it can.

 

My eye kept telling me, “Something is missing from

all I see.” So it went in search of the cure.

 

The cure for me was His Beauty, the remedy –

for me was to

love.

 

 

 

 

Days 243-244 - "Enough of Drowning"

   Since "God is Love," it is Love we are called to live both as caregivers and in our everyday life. Sometimes Love brings us deep peace. Sometimes we may feel Love is abandoning us when, in truth, it is our fear that diverts Love from us.

   David Whyte's gorgeous poem "The Truelove" includes an exquisite passage describing our experience with Love:

   "...I think of the story/ of the storm and everyone/ waking and seeing/ the distant/ yet familiar figure/ far across the water/ calling to them,/ and how we are all/ preparing for that/ abrupt waking,/ and that calling,/ and that moment/ we have to say yes,/ except it will not come so grandly,/ so Biblically,/ but more subtly/ and intimately in the face/ of the one you know/ you have to love,..."

   I believe we need to love passionately and fiercely. You, as a caregiver, journey into the face of pain and blood and disgust. You confront disease, reach into the wounds of the injured, embrace the woman or man or child who has been raped. We need to engage Love to heal suffering.

   Then, the time may come when we may experience Love's grace, a grace that strengthens us so that we will be prepared for the next encounter with the suffering of another.

   As Whyte continues toward the end of "The Truelove," 

   "...when we finally step out of the boat/ toward them, we find/ everything holds/ us, and everything confirms/ our courage, and if you wanted/ to drown you could,/ but you don't/ because finally/ after all this struggle/ and all these years,/ you don't want to any more,/ you've simply had enough/ of drowning." 

   This is it, isn't it? For those caregivers who are willing to struggle, to carry Love even when Love feels like such a great burden, there is the time when we surrender. In our letting go, Love's light shines into our hearts. We have stepped off the boat into the water and, magically, "everything holds."

-Erie Chapman