Journal of Sacred Work

Days 275-276 - Love Never Ends... & The Natural Order of Things

"Love never ends." - 1 Corinthians 13:8

   Both of my mother's younger sisters have passed away during the last year. "I was supposed to go first!" my mother told me defiantly.

   We think we know the "natural" order of things.  But, the length of our lives is in God's hands, not ours.

   Because of the things we are now able to do, we often believe we can alter the world. We can, quite literally, change the flow of a river. We can shorten the length of another's life by execution. And we have discovered medicines that delay death.

   In fact, we routinely refer to curative medicines as "life-saving." They are, in fact, only life-extending.

   Hospitals sometimes seem like places of alchemy - cauldron's where formulas to change the order of life are mixed and dispensed. For example, the lives of the elderly and the terminally ill are routinely extended with machinery most of us would never want used on us. Premature babies who would not have survived just a decade ago are now rescued and sent into the world - sometimes with permanent disabilities.

   What is the natural order of things? The more we think we can manage this "order" the more we are at risk for arrogance - for falling victim to the original sin of pride.

   Our ability to master a few of the elements of the world's energy makes us wonder if we might be able to manage all of it. It is now predicted that many of our children, grandchildren and great-grand children will live well past one hundred years old. Does this offer the illusion that we can truly defy death?

   For caregivers, the ability of science to solve many problems too often leaves a sense of failure when a patient actually dies. The natural order of things doesn't mean we shouldn't try to do our best. What it does mean is that our greatest victories are still quite small.

   What we need to recall is that God's Love is greater than all of our so-called victories combined. When we live this Love, we demonstrate our respect for Love's energy. We come to know that our job is not to change the course of nature but to live in concert with it.

   All who know my mother understand that she has caught the stream of Love's energy and lives that Love to this day. When her body passes from this earth, that love will remain.

   Here is the most important thing we need to remember every day: It is not our lives that never end. It is Love.

-Rev. Erie Chapman, J.D.   

Days 272-274 - When Crying is Caring - Grief as Medicine

“To spare oneself from grief at all cost can be achieved only at the price of total detachment, which excludes the ability to experience happiness” -- Erich Fromm (1900-1980)

   At a family funeral this past weekend I noticed a phenomenon common at many such occasions. Natural expressions of grieving, like tears, were viewed with marked discomfort. Some made efforts made to suppress these important human reactions.

   "Gee, Aunt JoAnn sure seems to be taking it hard," someone said after noticing a sibling was crying at the death of her sister. "Maybe, we should give her a tranquilizer," another said. 

   "Wow, I don't know if I'm going to be able to talk," a daughter said. It was as if "breaking down" at a funeral was a sign of moral weakness.

   When men shed tears, the reaction is even more judgmental. Perhaps, this is why men often quickly cover their faces when "overcome."

   My father used to get upset with himself when tears would leak out at the mention of his late mother. "Men shouldn't cry," he told me, echoing the rules by which he was raised and passing along the same guideline to me.

   Stifled grief can cause problems of its own. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) wrote: “There is no grief like the grief that does not speak” The great poet understood that tears un-shed can burn toxic within us.

   Aren't tears a sign of respect for the life of the one who has left this world - a signal that we truly miss the recently departed? Doesn't every psychologist and minister tell us that tears are a good way to express sadness? After all, much as we want to celebrate the life of someone who has left this world, it is always hard to lose someone we love.

   Ancient cultures marked deaths with "weeping, rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth." Some so-called "primitive" cultures continue to honor death in this way.

   In New Orleans many of us have observed jazz-style funerals in which somber music is played on the way to the funeral and celebratory music is played on the way out. I"ve always seen this as a lovely approach. But, this kind of ceremony is the exception rather than the rule.

   How can we best honor death in a hospital? When it happens after a "Code Blue" the code team often marks the passing as a "failure" and quickly disperses when death is pronounced.

   A newer practice in Healing Hospitals is for the code team to pause for a moment to "honor the death of this person." In other words, the healing work of the code team is not done after a death. Instead, healing teams recognize that a part of good caregiving is to honor a life just passed as well as one that remains.

   In general, I have seen many supervisors discourage nurses from crying with families in the odd belief that such behavior is "unprofessional." I believe this is wrong. A caregivers empathetic expression of feeling, so long as it does not interfere with medical care, is a terrific way to honor the family and friends of the deceased.

   Society's rules often frustrate honest expressions of feeling in favor of a kind of Puritanical decorum. Hospital guidelines too often mimic such rigid approaches.

   "Grief is itself a medicine" William Cowper (1731-1800) wrote more than two centuries ago. So, perhaps it's time for all of us to ease back on our judgments toward those who show tears as a part of grieving.

   Crying is caring. So, tears are usually not a sign of weakness but an expression of caring. Isn't this what living Love is all about?

-Rev. Erie Chapman. J.D.

Days 270-271 Need Some Inspiration?

  “All arts are derived from the breath that God breathed into the human body.”  

                       ~Hildegard of Bingen, 12th-century mystic

                                                                                                                                                Watercolor by ~liz

Recently, I attended a Health System Values in Action Award Celebration for caregivers. The facilitator welcomed our honored guests by sharing the Miriam-Webster definition of inspiration. As the afternoon progressed we were all inspired by the passionate expressions of these caregivers of Light.

Definition of Inspiration:

• A divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation

• The action or power of moving the intellect or emotions

• The act of influencing or suggesting opinions

• The act of drawing in; specifically the drawing of air into the lungs

I love this definition and the connection made to breathing. When I pay attention to this act of breathing, of inspiration, it seems to me, that I am in a state of receptivity. This gift, freely given is one I do not have to think about or attempt to control.

When we focus our energy on consciously breathing in and out we begin to experience a calming effect in the rise and fall of our chest. In the receiving and giving back, we surrender to life's natural rhythms.

In contemplative prayer, breathing is a doorway into communion with the divine. It is in this quiet space of listening and through the breath of life that we begin to connect with our source. The effects of mindfulness are revitalizing and healing. As we become still we connect with God’s Love. The stillness is not a withdrawal from life but instead inspires us to reach out to others with compassion. According to Franciscan, priest Richard Rohr, “Those who connect with God’s love are compelled to take action, and are motivated by love to try and bring about social justice."

Awakening means, “Keeping your heart and mind space open long enough for the mind to see other hidden material. Our rational mind judges, controls and analyzes instead of seeing, tasting and loving. This is exactly why it cannot be present in the naked now. The mind ... loves to process things. The key to stopping this game is, quite simply, peace, silence or stillness. This was always seen as God’s primary language... I would even say that on a practical level, silence and God will be experienced simultaneously — and even as the same thing.” -Rohr

In loving remembrance of a radiant spirit Christine Sanchez RN, beloved friend and family member of the St. Joseph Home Health Network. Chris is truly an inspiration to us. Through her infinite grace, kind and compassion heart she touched each of our lives in uniquely beautiful ways.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 265-269 - Secrets of the Moon

   It can be of the most sacred and personal of encounters for Catholics. It occurs in the shadowed space of the confessional. It is there that the faithful may choose to unburden their troubled or broken hearts. Protestants sometimes call this "giving it to God." In fact, every faith has a way of offering followers a path to bring our darker secrets into the light.    

   Of course, we all carry secrets. Some are beautiful and nurturing. Some are open wounds struggling for healing. We seek not only forgiveness but a place to put the pain of secrets that burden us.    

   I wrote a sentence-poem about where our secrets are held, using the sun and moon as metaphors for God and for our hearts. (I took the photograph while walking along the Atlantic shore.)

   When we give our troubles to God, Love sends back rich gifts. 

 

Secrets of the Moon

   
   You tell me that the moon understands a broken heart; that he was flung into existence to absorb our pain & whisper that we are loved.

   How tired he must be, how scared with killings & soaked in torture’s tears. 

   I’ve sent the moon enough of my own small woes & know he

must have tucked them into his back pocket with other minor complaints.

   It's all scattered on that dark side, isn’t it? You ‘round the corner from that shining grace & there they are - the embers of broken hearts,the wreckage of betrayal, the frozen bones of every disappointment, the ugly edges of ridiculed dreams.

The moon's shine is all reflection.

Yet, some heart must live within this servant of the sun. He is as patient as you say. Hands in his pockets, he watches us now, holds our secrets in his silent turning as he receives the sun & sends it along. 

 

-Erie Chapman

Days 263-264 None Strike Me as More Unlikely

 

              ~liz

The Play

When I go outside at night
And look up and the stars are bright
Sometimes I lay on the ground
And imagine that the sky is down
And if the earth should then let go
I’d fall into the stars below
I’d fall into the stars below
 
And when I see the red sunset
In it’s quiet splendor, I reflect
That sun’s not going down at all
But the earth is turning somersaults
And through a sunlit sea it trails
And we are on that great big whale
We’re riding on that great big whale
 
CHORUS:
When I try to grasp the simple fact of this existence
And think of all the fantasies and fairy tales and wishes
None strike me as more unlikely or magnificent than this is
 
Hands and faces seen up close
Galaxies through telescopes
Crimson hillsides in the fall
And more astounding than them all
Are pondering minds with eyes that see
These are deep mysteries
Deep mysteries
CHORUS:
 
Like a strange, enchanting play of impossible dimensions
The setting and the stage run light-years in all directions
And the breathless scenes and the storyline defy comprehension
 
And when I think of all the roles
In this production, all I know is
I’m in the cast, but could it be
I’m also in a front row seat
To sit in my amazement, gazing
To ooh and ahh and sigh and say
My, what a wonderful play

My, my, my, my...

                                                                        ~Peter Mayer

 

 

 

 

 

Days 261-262 Laugh-Singing The Day

   In the middle of a Wednesday, on what had always been a "work day" in my life,  I found myself at home, standing at our kitchen window.

   I stared out at the September noon dazed. I was not in some business meeting of the kind I've attended for forty years. Instead, I was just standing there - no phones ringing, no secretary to remind me I needed to get ready for some luncheon speech to the nursing staff.

   This is what semi-retirement looks like, I thought to myself.

   The sounds of workmen sawing and pounding drifted across the street from a neighbor's house. So did the song of the workmen laughing and whistling their way through the day.

   I remembered another sound - the voices of two other folks laughing. It was in a hallway at Riverside Methodist Hospital one day during the time I was President and CEO there. On that day, also around noon, two members of the housekeeping staff glanced up at me trudging across the linoleum to a meeting and started laughing.

   "What's up?" I asked the two women in an awkward attempt at solidarity.

   "Can we tell you the truth?" one asked.

   "Sure," I said, "unless you want to tell me what I look like."

   The two laughed even harder then looked sheepish. "Out with it," I chuckled.

   "We were laughing at you. You looked so serious coming down the hallway. We'd hate your job. We like to laugh our way through the day. I'll bet you can't do that,"   

   "You're right," I told them. "Maybe I need to laugh a lot more."

   Then one of them gave me the best kind of compliment. She said she was glad I was "the boss" because she and her friend knew they could laugh and sing while doing their work and not get in tourble. 

    Housekeeping is tough in general. In a hospital, it can be a nightmare (as I discovered back when I accompanied housekeepers on their rounds of cleaning blood from floors.)

   As I walked on, I heard one of the women start singing. The other joined in. A patient, hauling his IV pole, smiled as he walked by them. "Keep it up," he said. These two women understood how to live Love in jobs that pay way too little and ask way too much.

   My job etched worry across my face. Their calling painted smiles on their faces. They had learned how to laugh and sing instead of whine and complain.

   As I've often written, it's the first-line staff that determines the success or failure of patient care. It's the nurses, housekeepers, therapists and technicians that most affect the quality of a patient's stay.

   The only important thing leaders do is to take care of the people who take care of people - to love, honor and respect them. One of the best ways to do that is to help them look a grim job in the face...and smile back.

   I don't remember anything about the meeting I was walking to on that day about twenty years ago. Instead, it is the laughter and singing of those women that echoes through my heart.

-Rev. Erie Chapman, J.D.  

Days 258-260 - The Sacred Life

"You cannot find peace by avoiding life, Leonard." The character of Virginia Woolf speaking to her husband in the film "The Hours."

   A young man approached an old man and asked him, "Do you still wrestle with the Devil?" The old man answered, "No, the Devil has grown old like me. I wrestle with God."

   "Do you hope to win?" the young man asked. "No," the old man replied, "I hope to lose."

   Why do we think we can find peace by hiding from life instead of wrestling with it? Why do we so often hide in fear instead of living Love's passion?

   Probably, we often choose to flee life because our fear of pain is greater than our faith in Love.

   When my doctor told me at age nineteen that I had Crohn's Disease, he followed that news by warning me that I needed to live "as quiet and stress-free a life as possible." When I told him I wanted to be a lawyer, he replied, "Absolutely not. That is far too stressful."

   As I have shared in the Journal before, I am grateful that I ignored him (click on "About" below my photo, above right.) Following the doctor's warning would have been, for me, like choosing fear and "avoiding life."

   The sacred life is lived by engaging the world through listening to our passion and living our calling. Caregivers engage the world of illness, suffering, death, and birth every day.

   So many routinely ask nurses, doctors and other therapists how they can possibly live in the difficult atmosphere of illness and injury. We know the best answer. The work is sacred because it involves the chance to heal deep need.

   In fact, living a sacred life is easy to describe for everyone and difficult to live for most. It involves bringing Love to every encounter. When we do this, God arrives and God's presence always brings Love.

   I write and speak about the subject of Love and loving care all the time. Yet, I am forever having to remind myself to live Love's grace instead of giving into my own fears and biases. 

   After writing some of the greatest literature of the twentieth century, Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) above left, ultimately went against her own advice. On March 28, 1941, profoundly weary of the world, she placed stones in her coat pockets and drowned herself in England's river Ouse. "I can't fight (the world) any longer," Woolf wrote in her suicide note to her husband.

   Virginia's Woolf's death was a heartbreaking loss for a world she could no longer abide.Yet, the point is that this valiant and eloquent woman did live a sacred life until the very end. Her writing clearly reflects this.

   Rev. Mark Caldwell delivered a Sunday sermon recently based on Genesis 32:22-32 - Jacob's famous wrestling match at Peniel. The text reflects that the man who fought with Jacob told him, "...you have striven with God and with humans and have prevailed." Did Jacob "prevail" with God through surrender? 

   Rev. Caldwell finished his sermon with a line I hope to inscribe in my heart. "We live on the edge of what's left of us and what's left for us.

   What is left for us? We have the chance to choose our answer every minute of every day. We can engage life with passion or we can try to avoid it.

   I believe there is no hiding from Love. We need to wrestle with God...and lose.

-Rev. Erie Chapman

Days 256-257 Weaving Threads of Love

   The congregation of the Sisters of  St. Joseph of  Orange was founded in Le Puy, France, in 1650 by Father Jean Pierre Médaille. At that time in history, France was suffering from the devastating consequences of war. The aftermath left an overwhelming number of people in misery due to disease and homelessness. Many were widowed or orphaned and without the social structures in place to meet the great need. The Sister’s responded by reaching out to their “dear neighbors” with compassionate help.

   Fr. Médaille was a Jesuit priest and a missionary, sent out to preach in the local parishes. Touched by the selfless efforts of the Sisters he organized them so they could continue and sustain their good works within the support of a formal, religious community.

  During these early days, Father Médaille wrote a series of 100 maxims, or thoughts, to inspire and guide the Sister’s sacred work. These maxims were based on the ideals of the Gospel readings. The early Sisters memorized them as a means to enrich their spiritual life.

 “Have for God a love that is generous, embracing all that love is capable of, and all that a heart can love in God and for God...and [a love] unable to be uprooted by any created power.” ~Maxim of Love 9:2 Jean Pierre Médaille

 In present day times, the congregation's General Superior, Sr. Katherine “Kit” Gray reflected on the ongoing ministry of the Sisters. “Since the first Sisters of St. Joseph came together in Le Puy, France, we have been impelled by the desire to respond to the spiritual and physical needs of people. Our founder, Fr.Médaille, SJ, called us to go out into the community, divide the city, and assess and address the needs there. Some of our early sisters were lace makers. They used lace making to support themselves, and taught the craft to girls and women. Lace has become a symbol for us of relationships and patterns in our congregational history. In our activities, we see two related patterns: the pattern of responding to needs and the pattern of bringing people together in ministry.” 

The Sister’s emulate the true meaning of hospitality, inclusiveness and reconciliation. They awaken a deep desire in me and others to follow a path of service by carrying on their faithfulness for doing good works. I feel grateful to be a caregiver in their healthcare ministry. I’ve heard it said that the essence of  Father Médaille's and the Sister’s spirituality can be summed up in this one sentence.

“I love Love,

        And I let Love,

           love through me."

                                  Mandala by ~liz                                          ~Liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 254-255 - Relationship Patterns

"The definition of a long marriage is having the same argument over and over again," -attributed to Prince Rainier of Monaco

   The above observation from the late prince (married to the famous movie star, Grace Kelly, at left with two of their children) rings true, doesn't it? Interesting to me is that it was my wife of forty-four years who brought this quote to my attention.

   We have the same arguments with family and friends because we are forever wondering why we can't change them. Why don't they realize that they need to be prompt and not late? Why don't they understand that we want short explanations not long ones? Why don't they remember that we don't want butter on our toast or cream in our coffee?

   Why don't our fellow caregivers understand that they need to be loving in the way we are? Why are they forever repeating to us things we already know as if we were children?

   Of course, we really can't change how others think. If we are looking for success in our relationships, it is usually we that need to change.

   You and I already know this. To a surprising degree, our knee-jerk irritation with friends and family occurs, in all likelihood, because we know them the best. It is our through our long term relationships that we see long term repetitions of things we don't like.

   But, here is the good news. We also see repetitions of the things we love the most. Our friends and family bring light and Love into our lives. When those we love enter the rooms of our lives, our energy rises.

   Naturally, Love calls us to care for the unlovable, no matter how we are treated. Yet, it is a gift to be able to experience the love of those with whom we have bound our lives most permanently.

   Loving the unlovable is so much easier when we are surrounded, most of the time, by those who are easy to love. This is true even if they do roll the toothpaste the wrong way and want to know if we want butter on our toast.

-Erie Chapman

Days 251-253 - Love's Labor's Won

For where is any author in the world
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself  - Shakespeare - Love's Labours Lost, Act IV, Sc. III

   Shakespeare's comedy has entertained audiences for more than four hundred years. Of course, the "Love's Labour" whose loss he writes about speaks of romantic setbacks. Labor Day celebrates the dedicated (if aging) American workforce, not the metaphorical cemetery where all lost loves have been buried.  

   What of the labor "lost" by a caregiver who has worked for weeks to save a patient's life only to come to work one day to find the patient has died? Even more poignantly, we all know caregivers who have spent their entire careers loving their work and their patients in ways that have required sacrifice only to be pushed into retirement or, worse, laid off. Suddenly, all their labor can seem as if it was for naught.

   Like Shakespeare's "learning," labor is "but an adjunct to ourself." This does not mean it isn't crucial. It means that we are not our work. This seemingly obvious truth is often hard to grasp. So many of us, including me, have identified ourselves so closely with our life's labor - our job - that we feel adrift when that job vanishes.

   The practice of Love is never a wasted effort. Living Love is the only labor worth doing. For, Love shines through in the doing, not in the saying. Our labor as caregivers is how we show that.

   There is no "author in the world" can teach the value of what we do each day. It is the gratitude we occasionally see in a patient's eye that heals. It is God's Love, seen in the hard labor of our colleagues and felt in our remembering hands, that tells us that caregiving is sacred work.

   Love's labor is never "lost."

-Erie Chapman   

Days 249-250 We are the Ones We've Been Waiting For

Mandala by ~liz

This past week Erie has encouraged us to face our fears and to choose instead to live God's Love. Our present experience in health care is one of tremendous change. We are called to do more with less and to respond creatively to the needs of our communities. I hope this reflection will hold meaning for you as we push away from the familiar shore to risk the sacred journey. 

We are the Ones We've Been Waiting For

by Hopi Elders

  You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered…

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?

Know your garden.
It is time to speak your truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for your leader.

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water.

And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt.

The time of the one wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word ’struggle’ from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

--Hopi Elders' Prophecy

Days 247-248 - The Scared & The Sacred

   There is no room for the scared inside the circle of the sacred. What is  holy is free of fear.  

   It's odd how the words sacred and scared sound so much alike. With the exchange of but two letters, scared becomes its opposite just as fear is the opposite of Love. And the only effective treatment for fear is Love.  

   One message that comes from many in our country is that a great way to deal with fear is to keep a gun nearby. After all, the American Constitution, written in the wake of the Revolutionary War by men raised in primitive surroundings, protects our right to bear arms.

   My father, raised in part on his grandfather's farm, raised me with guns. He taught me to respect them rather then to be scared by them. Hunting was a sacred ritual in his eyes. His grandfather, a veteran of the Civil War, had used guns to kill for food as well as to protect himself. Guns were a good thing, I was taught.

   I shot my first rabbit with a blast from my .410 gauge shotgun at a distance of eighty feet (my proud father stepped it off.) But, as a kid, I was appalled to discover, upon approaching my victim, that the rabbit was still alive. A blow from the butt of my father's gun ended that. 

   I knew I was supposed to be tough as well as proud so I accepted Dad's congratulations. Inside, I felt sickened that I had killed not for food, but for fun.  

   So often we, as caregivers, pick the wrong weapons to deal with our life and our fears. Doctors over treat because they are scared of lawsuits. Many nurses follow rules slavishly even if adherence is damaging to loving care. When they do this, they act from fear and defeat the sacred.,   

   Saint Thomas Beckett, who fought for the church against the power of King Henry II, is reported to have said, "We are all God's fools." I saw that recently when I decided to nurture the memory of the gun-loving days of my childhood. For the first time since I wa a kid, I went to a local shooting range, rented a 9 mm pistol, and went through a box of shells firing at a target. Somehow, it seemed like it would be fun to shoot, this time, not at an animal but at a paper rectangle.  

   What struck me was the looks on the faces of the others I saw there. I didn't see men comforted by guns. Instead, I saw fear in their eyes. Scared, they go to guns for comfort and thus push back the sacred from their lives.

   What fools we are to think that violence can protect us or that science is our only weapon to treat illness. Jesus carried no weapon but Love. Why do we think we need any more than that?

-Rev. Erie Chapman