Journal of Sacred Work

Days 214 - 215 The Wounded Healer

                                       Polyprint Watercolor, ~liz Wessel

 In Henri Nouwen’s book, The Wounded Healer he suggests that to communicate with another we need hold back and allow space. He shared these wonderful insights of counselor James Hillman. “This withdrawal, rather than going-out-to meet the other, is an intense act of concentration, a model for which can be found in the Jewish mystical doctrine of Tsimtsum. God is omnipresent and omnipotent was everywhere. He filled the universe with his Being. How then could creation come about?...God had to create by withdrawal; He created the not-Him, the other, by self-concentration…On the human level, withdrawal of myself aids the other to come into being.”

 Nouwen adds his own illuminating thoughts, “But human withdrawal can be a very painful and lonely process, because it forces us to face directly our own condition in all its beauty as well as misery. When we are not afraid to enter into our own center and to concentrate on the stirrings of our own soul, we come to know that being alive means being loved. This experience tells us that we can only love because we are born out of love, that we can only give because our life is a gift, and that we can only make others free because we are set free by Him whose heart is greater than ours. When we have found the anchor places of our lives in our own center, we can be free to let others enter into the space created for them and allow them to dance their own dance, sing their own song, and speak their own language without fear. Then our presence is no longer threatening and demanding but inviting and liberating.”

I have heard is said, and it is my experience, that there is really no difference between the giver and the receiver. As caregivers we soon discover that each encounter teaches us and changes us for the better. "For it is in the giving, that we receive." ~Saint Frances

Healing Means

 

First of all, the creation of an empty but friendly space

Where those who suffer can tell their story

to someone who can listen with real attention

 

As healers we have to receive the story of our fellow human beings

With a compassionate heart, a heart that does not judge or condemn

But recognizes how the stranger’s story connects with our own.

 

We have to offer safe boundaries

Within which the often painful past can be revealed

And the search for a new life can find a start.

 

Our most important question as healers is not,

What to say or to do?

But,

How to develop enough inner space where the story can be received?

 

Healing is the humble but also very demanding task of creating and offering

A very friendly empty space

Where strangers can reflect on their pain without suffering fear,

And find the confidence that makes them look for new ways

Right in center of their confusion

 

~Henri Nouwen

 “Reaching Out”

Days 212-213 - Staying Whole in the Face of Loss

"I had the best doctors in the world. None of them ever asked me how I was doing. All they did was ask about my leg. Well, my damn leg was gone!" - Teddy Kennedy, Jr., speaking to health care leaders about his hospitalization, at age twelve, for cancer treatment and a leg amputation.

   I heard him speak about fifteen years ago. A group of us, all hospital CEOs at the time, sat in an auditorium in the Kennedy Library in Boston. 

   When the son of the late Senator Ted Kennedy (with his father in photo at left) hobbled into the room, everyone rose to applaud. Teddy, Jr. had only one message for us. You all run hospitals, he told us, please figure out a way to be sure patients are treated like whole human beings, not pieces or parts of human beings. I am not the guy with the missing leg. I am a whole person who happens to have lost a part of his body to cancer."

   What is wrong with us, as caregivers, that we so regularly insist on labeling people by their disease? Why do nurses, radiology techs, physical therapists, and doctors persistently talk about sick human beings as "gall bladders" or "knees" or "legs."

   What was startling to Teddy Kennedy, jr. was how he had been dehumanized by the healthcare system. He was no longer a young boy. He was an amputee.

   There is a great risk, especially with chronically sick children, that they will allow themselves to be defined by their disease. There is an even greater risk that we will define them that way.

   Why is the language of caregiving such a big deal? If caregivers think of a patient as a whole human being, they are more likely to be attentive and respectful. What if they think of a patient as "the knee?" If a person is only their knee, caregivers can ignore call lights, leave patients lying on gurneys in hallways, and talk over their reclining figures as if they weren't there. After all, they are not people, they are "knees."

   The language we use to refer to patients is crucial to the success of Radical Loving Care. I, and others, have been preaching this message for years. Sometimes, I feel like giving up. No matter how many caregivers say they understand, these same folks will refer to a person as "the diabetic" or "the alcoholic." 

   Anytime we refer to another human being only by a label, we have not only marginalized them, we have degraded ourselves. If a caregiver looks after human beings in need, their work is noble and sacred. If an orthopedic nurse thinks of herself as as "knee fixer" what has she or he become?

   Teddy Kennedy, Jr. has risen above the label some caregivers tried to attach to him. He has used his famous name to campaign for humane treatment of human beings who are sick and/or permanently disabled. Can we live the Love he teaches?

-Rev. Erie Chapman

Days 209-211 - "The Least of These"

"My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending./ Thinking, burying lamps in the deep solitude./ Who are you, who are you?" - Pablo Neruda

   Billy is scheduled to be executed in six months. After many years on Tennessee's death row, it appears he is in his final weeks on this earth. Soon, the state will kill him. The only caregiver who will take Billy's final walk with him will be a minister.

   Who is Billy? Who are you? Do we really think of Billy as being as human as are we?

   Nearly 100% of death row inmates are poor. Are we really that much different from those convicted of felonies? Or were we just lucky to be born into a good family.   

   As I go about my life switching from mask to mask depending on the situation, I wonder about who we are. Who, really, is the man I have worked with for ten years making documentary films about hospitals? Who is the woman who waits on the table at the restaurant where my wife and I order dinner?

   Who is the nurse who shouts out my name as I sit in the waiting room? Who is the doctor who has treated me for years. In general, we only get a quick glimpse into the lives of others.

   As professionals, caregivers are so good at "masks" that it is difficult to know their true selves. I often think that professionals and the middle class in general are the ones who wear the most masks.

   Poor people have no need to fake it. Rich people don't either. It's the large middle class that determines the rules we live by. Perhaps, it is this group that forces us to pretend so much - so that we can fit in.

   Just before I saw Billy on death row today, I heard about a rule from one of the veteran guards. "These men don't touch grass," he told me. "When they're outside, they're caged in wire and concrete. When they're inside, they're locked in steel and concrete."

   Cut off from nature and cut off from society, it's hard to imagine how Billy, or the rest of his eighty-four fellow men and one woman (the population of Tennessee's death row) are able to sustain their humanity.

   In addition to my other prison ministry, I have volunteered to become a caregiver to one of these death row inmates and will start seeing him regularly in a couple weeks. My first thought was that I'd love to bring him a plant to keep in his cell - some sign of nature. But, that is probably against the rules.

   Prisoners, especially death row inmates, have been told who they are. Everyone has advised them they are worse than bad. They are evil. They are trash.

   Caregiving for this group is problematic. The program I volunteer with is designed to offer friendship to inmates who have no other visitors.

   No visitors, no grass, no friends - except volunteers. Down the hall, the death chamber awaits.

   Who are we? Are we caregivers who can think how to offer love to these children of God or will we join the rest of society and simply condemn them as subhuman?

   In the Gospel of Matthew (25:39-40) Jesus says, "39...when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you? 40. And the king will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are the members of my family, you did it to me.'" 

   Our humanity is determined by how we treat "the least of these" in the world. How we think about others - whether sick, injured, or condemned to die, determines whether we really believe that we are all children of God - and whether we are living Love, not fear.

   -Rev. Erie Chapman

Days 207-208 When We Finally See

"When they finally saw him, why he hadn't done any of those things ... Atticus, he was real nice," to which he responded, "Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them."

  The above quote is the last line in Harper Lee's novel, “To Kill A Mockingbird” as young Scout experiences an epiphany. I could not resist sharing a few thoughts, as the 50th anniversary of this Pulitzer prize winning novel is celebrated. This extraordinary story is my all time favorite, and is engaging on several levels.

 As you know, the story begins during the hot sticky days of summer in Maycom County, Alabama. I value the way these children made instant friendships that forged indelible bonds. This is how the summer unfolded between Dill (John Megna), Scout (Mary Badham) and her brother Jem (Philip Alford). Actually, beyond the confines of the script, these actors did develop meaningful life long relationships. When immersed in their world, I felt a nostalgia for my own childhood days.   

I love the mystique involved with their strange seeming neighbors who lived in the house next door. How these children let their imagination run away with them, and were drawn into a night of mischief with a near miss escape. Ah, the surprise of all those inexplicable trinkets in the tree's hollow left for Jem and Scout to find. Soap figurines carved in their likeness, a pocket watch, marbles and much more. All treasures that Jem hid in a cigar box of secrecy.

It 1962, Robert Mulligan released a remarkable film version, which was scripted by Horton Foote. Composer Elmer Bernstein's music flows with an exquisite cadence that enhances the mood of each scene. The sounds are delicate, yet moving; sad but incredibly beautiful; magically sprinkled in wonder; sometimes alarming and yet woven together in a tender love. When I first listened I felt a wonderful, almost familiar feeling like the love of belonging to my family. Bernstein's music builds us up in suspense and then descends in gentle billows returning us safely home. I could listen, and listen, and never tire.

 I recall a poignant scene when an angry mob stormed down to the jail, fueled with hate, to lynch Tom Robinson (Brock Peters). Robinson was a black man, wrongly accused of a rape crime. Atticus (Gregory Peck) anticipated trouble and sat guard in front of the jailhouse all night long. In a tense moment, young Scout suddenly recognized a man in the crowd and calls out with hospitality. "Hey, Mr. Cunningham. Hey, I go to school with your son Walter. He is a nice boy." Scout’s innocent greeting miraculously disarms the blood thirsty group and they skulk away hanging their heads in shame.

 Throughout the movie there is an underlying sadness and longing as Scout and Jem think about their mother who had previously died. She is missed throughout the days and nights in the life of the Finch family. Atticus helps to fill the hole in their hearts within the security of his abiding love. He is a bigger than life father who shoulders the responsibilities of life with grace. As a lawyer he is willing to stand up for what is right to confront racism, ignorance and fear. He lives Love courageously and defends Tom Robinson to prove his innocence. Atticus's children couldn't stay away from the courthouse and squeezed their way in to watch the drama unfold from the balcony. They sat akin with the "colored  people" who were oppressed and vulnerable. Ultimately, Atticus risked his family's safety and the lives of his children to serve.

What an intense encounter ensued at the Robinson's home the night Atticus went to call on the family. It was just after the trial ended and Tom Robinson had received an unjust guilty verdict.The family was in shock and stricken with grief. Atticus went to comfort them and to offer the hope of an appeal. Suddenly, a venomous Bob Ewell showed up drunk and spat in Atticus' face. Atticus maintained his dignity and simply wiped his face with a handkerchief. What a powerful moment of shining courage, and what a revelation of character as he turned and walked away from violence.

  On Halloween night, an unsuspecting Scout and Jem were followed as they walked home from the school play.They were attacked in the woods and struggled with their assailant amid a dark chaos. It is their odd neighbor Boo Radley (Robert Duval) who came out of the shadows and saved their lives. The attacker Bob Ewell was killed in the skirmish. Sheriff Tate (Frank Overton) determined that in the best interest of all, "Bob Ewell's death was an accident; that he fell on his knife." Illuminating these tragic events is the light of Love. 

If you have not read this book or ever watched the movie it is a must see! Add it to your bucket list or better yet watch it today. The video clip below highlights a few scenes from this classic film.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 205-206 - The Compass in Compassion

   We are redeemed by our compassion. Yet, compassion seems to be chronically misunderstood. Most people see compassion as simple kind-heartedness. It is more than that.

   I remember speaking with a Chief Nursing Officer once about a nurse who had developed a record of chronic mistakes in patient care. "But, she's so kind and compassionate," the CNO told me.

   "She may be kind, but she's not compassionate," I responded. "If she were compassionate, she would either improve her clinical performance or resign."

   Compassionate leadership calls us to make sure that nurses like this either improve or leave. In fact, it is cruel and unfair to patients to allow a poor performing nurse to continue practicing.    

   For caregivers, to live with compassion means to bring the highest competence possible to the care of patients. For example, there is nothing compassionate about making clumsy mistakes over and over and then being nice to the patient. What is compassionate is to live our highest skill levels with respect, discipline and caring.

   The compass in compassion means that compassion directs us to walk a path in which we live both skill and kindness. The balance is crucial. Only Love can help us find this balance.

-Erie Chapman  

Days 202-204 - "Be Wild, O My Soul"

"Be wild, O my soul, for the Source of Wonder, let me not forget all your care." -Rev. Don Schlosser

   Rev. Schlosser's lyrics help remind us of the Love God offers to us. Because of this care, we are free to let our spirits run wild with the beauty of the universe.

   We feel most isolated when we have lost the ability to feel the beauty around us. Nina Jane, a dear friends (and a gifted caregiver) makes sure she is in touch with Love by starting each morning with a walk through one of Nashville's most gorgeous nature preserves. "My soul would suffer if I couldn't be in touch with nature," she says.

   As everyone knows, the moon does not create its own light. Instead, it reflects the sun's power across moonlit nights.

   We don't create our own light. Instead, when we are open to God, Love's light reflects off of us, illuminating the darkness that shadows the lives of those who live in fear.

   Self care matters most when we find ways to turn our hearts towards Love's light. The light we reflect glows back to us from those to whom we bring it.

   If we spend our silent time, or our time in prayer, nursing wounds and nurturing bitterness, Love cannot enter our hearts. This is why Love cannot reach the dark side of the moon.    

   The are many in the world who imagine we are the masters and nature is our servant. They think, in the way some early leaders viewed Yosemite, Yellowstone, and the Grand Canyon, that it is the job of "man" to redeem nature from the wilderness. They fail to appreciate what Nina Jane knows - that it is we who are redeemed by nature.

   Our soul is informed by Love. The presence of the natural world reminds us of the gratitude we may express toward the endless energy of God's presence.

   The best artists have gotten in touch with the feminine beauty that is the source of all compassion in our lives. Male strength, when used wisely, helps protect and nurture this beauty in our world.

   Our souls need to "be wild" so that they may roam free from the harnesses we so often apply. When our souls run free, they gather the flowers of the world and array them before us.

   Whenever caregivers travel the paths of nature or the hallways of museums or open their ears to great music, they refresh their souls. In the wash of this restoration, they can enter the rooms of the suffering bearing the gifts of compassion and competence that Need always seeks.

   Nature and art redeem our souls. Nina Jane knows this and that is how her caregiving acts as the full and gorgeous moon - reflecting the sun's light into the hearts of all she knows. Because of her wild soul she, like you, is a true Lover.

-Rev. Erie Chapman

 *Photograph and words by Dane Dakota

Days 200-201 What Does It Really Mean To Be Kind?

 
                                                                                            Watercolor Polyprint ~liz Wessel

Kindness by ~Naomi Shihab Nye

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

Days 198-199 - The Wisdom of the Adventists

   If one hundred percent of Americans adopted the Adventist lifestyle, this nation would have a dramatic increase in its overall health. Note that I am not preaching a conversion to Adventist belief. That is, of course, a personal religious decision.

   It is the Adventist lifestyle that makes the one million or so Adventists among the healthiest, most long-lived people in the world. We all know they've got the right idea. But, they, as opposed to most of us, actually live their beliefs.

   Healthcare professionals also know the extraordinary impact this relatively small Christian denomination has had on medical excellence. Their flagship hospitals, including Loma Linda in California and Florida Hospital in Orlando have made a significant impact on hospital-based care.

   Kevin Roberts (above left) the talented and committed CEO of Castle Medical Center in Hawaii, an Adventist hospital, understands that loving leadership is about the right mix of competence and compassion. He practices that balance as a hospital president and his staff and their patients benefit. The same is true of Des Cummins, CEO of Florida Hospital.

   "You don't have to choose between competence and compassion," says a physician at the Adventist's Kettering Hospital in Dayton. "You should expect both in your medical care.

   What is so magical about the Adventist lifestyle? Nothing. They practice health behaviors that all of us know: regular exercise, vegetarianism, no smoking or drinking, a sense of community, and a hopeful view of life.

   A key for them is not their behavior but what undergirds it - it is a deep belief in the sacredness of the human body and the holiness that guides caregivers who touch the bodies of others. This is what each of us needs to learn in our own way.

   Caregivers are in desperate need of positive self-care. Nurses know they should exercise, but many smoke, are overweight, and are flooded with stress. Doctors know the impact of food on health but many, like ER doctors on the run and even some cardiologists I know, ingest some of the worst fast food and ignore the exercise approach they advocate for their patients.

   This is not about condemning bad lifestyles. It is about how much impact a positve lifestyle can have on each of us - especially on caregivers.

   Thus far, I have written nothing that is going to change the life of any reader. What changes people is not advice but a personal decision. These decisions will affect the quality, and probably the length, of your life. None of us will make this decision unless we feel a sense of personal awakening - a deep passion to set health care goals for ourselves, to meet them, and to make them a lifelong practice.

   A few years ago, after an adulthood of very moderate drinking, I realized I had started to drink too much. As soon as I cut back significantly, I not only lost weight, I felt better. 

   Of course, I already knew this would be true. What was missing was my awareness of the mistake I was making together with acceptance that I needed to prioritize this change followed by engaging a new life practice every day. The same came true with exercise. I do about twice as much as I used to. Of course, I feel better.

   Not all of this is self interest. It is about honoring the body I have been given and the fact that this body is now more than sixty-six years old.

   What are we doing, as caregivers, to care for our bodies? How does this self-care affect the way in which we care for others?

   The Adventists have learned not only a healthy way to live, but how to sustain their healthy practices. They act not out of fear, but out of Love. I admire them. Wouldn't it be wise for all of us to follow their example?

-Rev. Erie Chapman

Days 195-197 - Forgetting About Our Own Salvation

"I studied a minute...I then says to myself, all right then I’ll go to hell, and tore it up…” - Huck Finn - from Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain

   What did Huck Finn tear up? It was the paper that would have cast his friend (and slave) Jim back into the hands of slaveholders.

   Finn decided he couldn't follow the slave laws of the time. Instead, he chose to save his friend - and that Jim was, in fact, fully human - not "three-fifths of a person" as the U.S. Supreme Court of the time had decreed.

   In mid-nineteenth century America, anyone who tried to help a slave escape was subject to arrest as well as eternal damnation according to many southern churches. If you were a white caregiver in a southern hospital in 1950, you would not be allowed to care for an injured black person. In fact, black people were turned away at the door to the Emergency Department and directed to a charity hospital.

   In Huckleberry Finn, when Huck tore up the paper, he presumed he would literally go to hell. The moment he forgot about his own salvation in favor of another's, Huck Finn expressed true Christianity - what we call, in a caregiving context, Radical Loving Care.

    If I had grown up in the mid-twentieth century south, where I live today, and attended a church within a few minutes of my current home, Protestant pastors and their congregations would have taught me to follow the politics of segregation and exclusion. Many Catholic clerics would have done the same.

   Indeed, a black friend of mine who was among the first to participate in the integration of a Nashville Catholic school in the 1960s was told by nuns that she was "not as smart as the white children." 

   Black people would not even have been allowed to worship in most Nashville churches of that era. They would not have been allowed to sit with whites at a lunch counter until 1961.

   Our ability to dehumanize others is astonishing. Something in our original sin of pride often seems to push us to want to raise ourselves by demeaning others. Something within most of us wants to pursue our own salvation by taking an elitist religious path that only people of our particular denomination can travel.

   In India, the poor are still shunned by many, including too many caregivers, as "untouchables." In parts of Africa, members of the Hutu tribe, including some caregivers, discriminate against members of the Tutsi tribe and vice versa. In Europe, Serbians, including caregivers, discriminate against Croatians. In the Middle East, many Muslims, including caregivers, discriminate against Christians and Jews. In Israel, many Jews, including caregivers, discriminate against Muslim's. And on and on.

   How can American caregivers avoid discriminating a bit themselves? Can we really "see" the person in the ER wreaking of alcohol as fully human? Can we really "see: the patient in room 4027 as more than a "gall bladder?" Can we discern the elderly male in the patient gown as equal to us or will we persist in calling him "that sweet little old man" and treat him like a small child?

   One of the strange conundrums of salvation is that if we pursue it for ourselves, we cannot attain it. Yet, if we pursue salvation by helping others, even when we don't want to (when it is most important) how can we avoid thinking that this kind actions might gain us "a few points with God?"

   Some have determined how to do it. Jesus showed us the way. So did Mark Twain through Huck Finn.

   The moment we say we're willing to "go to hell" in order to help another, grace arrives. For it is only then that we are living Love, not fear.

-Rev. Erie Chapman 

*Painting of Huckleberry Finn and Jim by Thomas Hart Benton

Days 193-194 The Many Faces of God

Erie recently explored the divine omnipresence of God in his Journal essay called, "How Big is God" (June 28, 2010.) I can’t help but wonder why it is so threatening to affirm that God is known by many different names. Some may not even profess a faith in God but these same individuals are some of the Holiest people I have ever known.

 Some believe so strongly in their God as the “only way” that they feel compelled to save non-believers from an eternity in hell. Yet, many individuals are turned off to religion precisely because of such literal interpretations.

Perhaps, it is because our relationship with God is so deeply personal. I think for those who practice religion, it can become a very important aspect of one’s identify. We gather together with people of like-heart bonded within a community of believers. Differing beliefs may feel threatening because subconsciously we fear that to accept others beliefs will crack and erode our very existence.

A bible passage that is often translated literally is John 14:6, when Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." I receive His instructive message to be more about living a Christ like life of selfless Love. A Love that is as difficult to live as a “camel trying to pass through the eye of a needle” Mathew 19:24.

In 1Corinthians 12 my favorite the passage is the analogy of one body and many differing parts.“If a foot should say, because I am not a hand I do not belong to the body it does not for this reason belong any less to the body. We were all given to drink of one spirit." Now to me that is really good news!

Fear creates division. We fear losing something very precious to us. We want the security of knowing absolutes. I would like to encourage each of us to be more aware of our subtle responses to diversity. Stretch beyond the confines of religion to observe your encounters with others and reflect on these questions. How do I receive people? Is my response welcoming and receptive, or resistive, reactive and closed? What am I trying to protect? Notice the little nuances, like how we might defensively cross our arms while talking with another person.

Lately, I’ve been stepping back to notice my thoughts and the stories I tell myself about people and situations. This simple practice helps me recognize that my stories are often based on incomplete, non-factual information. Since I am the only participant, my internal dialogue is one sided and biased. I make faulty assumptions, which leads to creating a barrier between myself and others. It is easy to distort reality when I do this. However, I am forever hopeful because awareness can lead to meaningful change.

An open attitude an a receptive heart is necessary for Love's presence to awaken within us. Father Michael Adams explains, "We cannot be healed until we surrender our disbelief that the Divine can and does want to create within us a perfect expression of itself."

When we feel intolerant toward others, divisiveness sets in and we risk becoming enemies, as we water seeds of hatred. This is how conflict is fueled and on a grand scale we all know of endless wars fought in the name of religion. Conflict resolution seeks common ground.  In matters of diverse faith, does it have to be in all or nothing terms? Can’t God be a both/and radiant source of our being? We can widen the lens through which we see the world to discover inner beauty. As Erie would say, we can look with sacred eyes. Do we recognize the face of God in all we encounter? I can think of no higher purpose than to accept one another in reconciliation and Love. That is God’s call to us. We are all of One spirit. “Love one another as I have loved you,” John 13.

It is my sincere hope that the Journal provides a sacred space where we can learn more about each others faith and cultural traditions as we seek a common ground and unity. In this spirit, I share this video with you.

"There is no they, only us." ~Anon.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 191-192 - You

   I wonder if you have any idea how important you are to those around you?

   Today, you will encounter friends, co-workers, strangers, patients, perhaps family. Your impact on them is likely far greater than you think.

   For you are that most sacred of beings - a caregiver. You are the one who offers Love to the ones who draw near to your being seeking help.

   Your presence offers light. Your light illuminates healing and casts away the shadows that darken the world of those who lie, at this moment in pain.

   God is present to you. As you let God flow through you, beauty appears.

   Loving caregiving means that you are the one with the courage to plunge yourself into the wounds of another. You are the one who stands near to the pain of someone who needs your healing grace - now!

   Thank you for being there - to help, to relieve the hurt, to Love.

-Rev. Erie Chapman

Days 188-190 - Sex!

"...life without love is a desert where no rain falls..."   - Rev. Waldemar Argow (1916-1996)   [- Library of Congress image, below, under the category "Sex."]

Here's some  post Fourth of July fireworks for you in one word - Sex!  It's a subject rarely raised in the serious world of caregiving (except in a legalistic context when someone has violated boundaries.)

   In our anxious, western society, the word sex is guaranteed to draw quick attention.

   For example,in 1980, church attendance at my place of worship was lagging. We had an excellent minister. No one could figure out why Sunday morning attendance had fallen from and average of about 300 down to the 150s.

   Our minister, the late Reverend Waldemar Argow, had an idea. For all of the next week, the sign in front of the church read: "Sunday's Sermon - Sex!"

   That following Sunday, it was standing room only.

   Love is more important. Sex is more interesting.

   What I vaguely recall about the sermon was that Rev. Argow said two things: First, he asked everyone to look around at what it took to bring them to church. There was, of course, a nervous. Second, his real sermon had to do with sexual relationships in the Bible - primarily the old testament - the Bible characters with hundreds of wives, and so forth. In other words, not terribly arousing stuff.

   Unfortunately, the next week attendance trailed off and returned to its lower level for the rest of the year. After all, Rev. Argow couldn't put "Sex!" on the church sign every week.

   If "life without love is a desert..." as Rev. Argow wrote, then sex without love is not love. But what draws more attention, sex or Love? For the answer, we need merely scan television or movie listings.

   The Journal (and the whole idea of loving care) faces a similar challenge. Everyone agrees that Love is the most important and powerful energy in the world. But, not very many people want to read about it.

   Honestly, isn't some part of you a bit disappointed that I didn't really write about sex in today's essay?

   Like everyone else, I'm fascinated by the subject. But, I also assume you didn't come to this site to read about sex. 

   In fact, we condemn scandal and the scandal newspapers sell millions of copies every week. It's a very old problem and no one ever solves the challenge by sounding judgmental (as I am doing here.)

   The fact is, the small number of people who read the Journal of Sacred Work are those who already "get it." It's clear to me from the comments I read that Journal followers are among the most loving caregivers a patient or supervisor could want.

   Would a bad nurse, doctor or other therapist come to a site about sacred work? I doubt it. 

   Most caregivers are not going to find much excitement here. We offer encouragement, support and serenity. Most are so harried by their lives that stopping to read about Love for even two minutes is too hard.

   I think I understand why. There's not much controversy here. No money discussion. No sex either. 

   As I travel the country,I ask the large groups of caregivers who come to hear me speak (mostly because their bosses have told them to attend) a question. I ask how many of them take just five minutes in any given day to meditate or pray? Only a small percent raise their hands.

   Naturally, they say they don't have time. Later, when I ask them how many of them watch television every evening almost all raise their hands.

   It's a matter of priorities. We have time for what we think is important.

   Five minutes of rest would likely improve life quality more than two hours of television. So, what's the problem? Could it be that meditation isn't sexy enough?

-Rev. Erie Chapman

Days 186-187 The Answer is Pure Joy

I am fascinated by the stories of caregivers whose spirits inform their work and every aspects of their lives. This is the story of one such caregiver Ysa Le, an Infusion Pharmacist at the St. Joseph Home Health Network. Ysa works 4 days per week at Home Health and volunteers an equal number of hours on behalf of her Vietnamese community. You might ask the burning question, how can she do this, or more importantly why would she?  The answer is pure joy; she follows her passion to promote the telling of Vietnamese stories through diverse artistic expression.

  Ysa was born in South Vietnam where she lived through a tumultuous time of war. Her mother, Diane Le studied abroad and earned her degree in nursing from Texas Woman's University in 1962. Her father, Dieu Le taught college journalism and was an Attaché to the Deputy Prime Minister. In 1975, with the fall of Saigon Mr. Le was arrested (due to his government position) and detained in prison for six long years. During this time Ysa’s family suffered great loss and hardship. Mrs. Le did her best to care for their three children in distressing times. Anxious to flee the communist regime her mother sold all their possessions to gain boat passage out of Vietnam. In all, there were ten failed attempts, desperate to escape, which landed her family in and out of jail.

Ysa’s father was released from prison in 1981. He appealed to the French Government to allow their family to emigrate. The French accepted his request and in 1983, the Le family moved to France. Ysa (age 13) was immersed in a radically different culture. At school, she successfully overcame the challenge of learning with all classes taught in a foreign language. Ysa enjoyed living in France and acclimated well to her new life and surroundings.

 Ysa was 15 when her family immigrated to the United States and settled in Southern CA.  Her mom worked as a nurse in special education. Her father secured a journalist position for the Daily News. In 1991, Mr. Le, along with a group of Vietnamese American journalists, artists and friends founded the Vietnamese American Arts & Letters Association (VAALA). This community-based, non-profit organization formed to promote the arts and culture of the Vietnamese community. 

 Ysa graduated from the University of Southern California in 1994. She met Hao-Nhien Vu and a kinship grew between them. Hao-Nhien wanted to start a Vietnamese book club and dreamed of building a Vietnamese library, which impressed Ysa. In 1996, Hao-Nhien and Ysa acknowledged their love for one another through commitment in marriage. Presently, Hao-Nhien is the managing editor of the Nguoi Viet Daily News.

Mr. Le died in 1999 and Ysa decided to volunteer at VAALA to honor her father’s memory. This awakened a fervor for art activism, which has blossomed in wondrous ways. Ysa served as VAALA’s Board President from 2004-2008, and is currently the Executive Director. VAALA organizes cultural events such as art exhibitions, book projects, book signings, recitals, plays, and lectures. Ysa strives to help her people have a voice in the Vietnamese community; a voice that has long been censored. One artist whose work was showcased is Saigon-1.His graffiti art manifests when he "leaps into the shadows to create art at night and in secrecy" and can be found on the sides of trains. The artist shared, "My life is a beautiful painting on the side of a passing train. with just the right timing, you could open your eyes at a red light and see my soul!" Ysa's heart desire is to support creative expression in the Vietnamese community. Through provocative art the imagination is stirred and a longing for truth touches a depths previously unseen. This is due to the courageous perseverance of Ysa and her colleagues at VAALA.

Since 2001 until last month, Ysa  hosted a weekly radio show, “Vong Chan Troi Van Hoc Nghe Thuat” (The Art Horizon) on VNCR 106.3 FM. Ysa interviewed artists and reported on the art events happening in the community. Her decision to step down will allow her more time to focus on VAALA ventures. One magical event that Ysa helps organize annually is the Moon Festival during Harvest Season in the eighth month of the year. Enchantment fills the air, as children carry lanterns, sing moon cake songs and dance.  An art contest is held and the children get to display their masterpieces. This unique occasion draws over 300 people and brings families together in community. Another significant contribution that Ysa and  (VAALA) helped to create is the smART Program. This program provides free year-round, after-school art workshops for various organizations in the Los Angeles and Orange County areas to serve under-privileged and “at-risk” youth from all backgrounds.  

In 2003, Ysa co-founded the Vietnamese International Film Festival (ViFF), a collaborative effort with the University of California, Irvine. ViFF organizes and produces film festivals every other year with the financial support of community businesses and foundation funding. Over 70 artists’ films have been highlighted from around the world. This creative enterprise is growing and flourishing well beyond the wildest of expectations.

A miracle occurred when Ysa supported the efforts of photographer Brian Doan with a book project called, The Forgotten Ones. Published in 2005, Doan’s photographs revealed the plight of the last Vietnamese refugees who waited in limbo at Palwan Camp, Philippines. In an attempt to raise public awareness, Doan’s poignant photographs documented the experience of over 2000 refugees left stranded for years. They had all but given up hope of ever resettling in another country.  However, with the contributions of this significant work, lawyer/activist Hoi Trinh appealed to government officials in Canada and the U.S. to get involved. Incredibly, this extraordinary effort resulted in the resettlement of the refugees, ending over 20 years of desolation. The project raised over $12,000.00 to help the refugees.

Hat Boi (HACK-boyh) is an ancient Vietnam custom of dancers in elaborate make-up and costumes performing intricate choreographed movements. This ancient art  is in danger of becoming extinct. The only teacher of Hat Boi in the United States is a 68-year-old opera singer named Ngoc Bay. She was a successful performer in Vietnam. However, when she emigrated to the U.S. there was no demand for this unknown art form, so she worked as a nursing assistant. Last year Ysa recruited Bay to give the first Hat Boi class in the U.S. at the VAALA studio. Although it takes years of dedicated practice to master, students, ranging in age from five to 70, are enthusiastically learning the tradition. Ysa Le has been instrumental in reviving this cultural treasure that is hundreds of years old. Bay hopes to rekindle a love for this art and pass it on the to the next generation. Ysa received the prestigious Arts and Culture (In-Language) Award from New California Media in 2003 for her article in Mimi News reporting the revival of Hat Boi within the Vietnamese community.

Ysa has served as an infusion pharmacist at St. Joseph Home Health for over 10 years. She is a conscientious caregiver who utilizes her clinical expertise and kindhearted presence to serve our community. She is a warm, genuine person who is completely unassuming and down to earth. Ysa enjoys her work of helping people in need. Her volunteer efforts provide exciting opportunities to meet interesting and creative people, have fun, and empower others to share their stories. It was a fun to interview Ysa because I discovered her extraordinary story, which I can now share with you.

~Liz Sorensen Wessel

 

 

Day 184-185 - Doubt & "The Leap of Faith"

"Sister Aloysius: Sister James... 
 Sister James: What is it, Sister? 
 Sister Aloysius: [crying] I have doubts. I have such doubts."  - Last lines from the movie, Doubt

   In the incredibly popular movie, "Doubt" (and the play of the same name) the central question seems to be guilt. Who is responsible for an act of wrongdoing? But the movie's power rests not in guilt, but in the doubt that drenches both the characters and the audience.

   What is striking about the last piece of dialogue in the movie (above) is that throughout the film, Sister Aloysius has been the picture of certainty. Finally, we discover that, after all, she has "such doubts." In other words, behind her cold facade she is as human as the rest of us.

   Is doubt the heart of spiritual suffering?

   Mother Theresa's diaries reveal that this great saint of our time was plagued with doubt - doubts about her work and doubts about God. Why would this woman of such apparent faith suffer in such a way?

   Perhaps the greatest President in American history, Abraham Lincoln, was hounded by doubts throughout the Civil War. His life and death decisions affected hundreds of thousands and,ultimately, millions. He asked himself over and over whether he made the right decisions.

   A nurse climbs into her car to head home. As she travels the road, doubts from the day linger: Did she give exactly the right dose of medication to the patient in Room 453? Did the surgeon's patient really need that hysterectomy?

   Doubt threads through all our lives. Some think doubt lives at the core of spiritual suffering. Most think the answer is simply to have faith.

   If this is so, then why do so many have to constantly tell themselves "God will provide." If this is true, what's the need for repeating it and why do we have to pray about it all the time? It is because, for most of us, our faith is fragile.

   It does no good to tell ourselves we just have to have faith. Faith doesn't arrive by orders we give to ourselves or others.

   Faith comes through surrender to God's Love - complete surrender. But, the human condition blocks surrender. We try to let go and find we can't...at least, completely.

   Can we really trust that God's Love will protect us, we ask? The answer is both yes and no. God's Love will always enfold us when we open to it. But, Love does not shield us from pain. To love is to know pain.

   So what is answer to the ancient question of our spiritual suffering? I have my own reply, but it doesn't always bring comfort.

   I don't think we can cure our "suffering" or eliminate our doubt through plain reason. Instead, the only answer I know is to focus on relieving not our own suffering but that of others.

   When we focus on living Love by helping others we know we have let Love flow to where it is needed. Whether we personally gain relief is no longer the question because our focus is on the other, not on ourselves.

   The great theologian, Soren Kierkegaard advised that the best path to God was not through reason, Instead, he said, each of us must take a "leap of faith."  

   It's a tough choice to take this leap and even tougher to sustain our decision. Perhaps, that is why faith is so elusive and why doubt is so pervasive in our lives.

   Doubt is the root of fear. Love is the sun that illuminates every shadow. Love's sun shines when we reach out to help those we know are suffering. Sometimes, our loving caregiving is so successful the light of Love is reflected back into our own hearts - especially when we are not expecting it.

-Rev. Erie Chapman