Journal of Sacred Work

Days 86-90 - Love Versus Self-Rejection

"Those who live God's Love see beauty where others experience shame." - Dane Dakota, Woman As Beauty (Westview, 2010)

   "Shame on you, you bad boy," a first grade teacher told me sixty years ago.

   "God will punish you," I heard from a minister when I was about the same age. 

   It's difficult to see Beauty from the prison of shame. It's hard to live Love while fearing punishment.

   But where's the shame in a rose's beauty or an oak's elegance? Why not live among the "pretty" things of the world all the time? Instead, caregivers work amid cold fluorescence, linoleum sterility and the blood of the wounded. 

   We want them to care for us free of the sword of shame and unburdened with worries about punishment. We want them to heal from their place of Love.

   Caregivers enter the shadowed cave to care for those who have been bent or broken by the storms of this world. The sick and wounded seek healing. 

   To heal (versus to fix) caregivers must see Beauty within themselves. This means looking within and beyond the spiked walls of fear and shame that are the enemies of Love.

   "I have come to realize," Henri Nouwen wrote, "that the greatest trap in our life is not success, popularity or power, but self-rejection." This sentence rings so true for me that I found it painful to read.

   Like so many, I am driven to perform. It is uncommonly difficult for me to relax because I am forever hounded by the need to help or to create. That would be fine except for the anxiety crawling beneath too much of my behavior.

   Love is the mother of Beauty. We experience her energy by respecting Beauty, not by grabbing her at the throat and trying to wring some personal satisfaction out of her.

   Bill Banta is my oldest and dearest friend (we met as freshman at Northwestern University.) Bill's latest letter included a message from his minister, Don Frampton.

   "The world will try to seduce us into thinking that we are only as good as our accomplishments...," Reverend Frampton writes."But God will have nothing of it."    

   Do we seek God's approval out of Love or out of fear? Do we drive ourselves to perform because we are afraid to fail or because, as God's children, we seek to live out our highest calling?

   I wrote the quote that opens this essay under my pen name, Dane Dakota. I use another name because I'm afraid. Some of my art work stirs the fears of some who define me (and art) narrowly. (One of my photographs is above)

   You don't come to this space to be startled by certain kinds of art. That is why I offer my riskier work elsewhere.

   Is our greatest worry as caregivers getting fired or is it that we fire ourselves through self-rejection? For example, I ask myself whether my increasing boldness about art arises because I am now retired from organizations that can fire me. What expressions of Love have been blocked in the past by my fears?

   Five hundred years ago, Kabir sent us a letter we may open today. "Inside your body there are flowers," he writes to us. "One flower has a thousand petals...Sitting there you will have a glimpse of beauty/inside the body and out of it..."

   I wish I had celebrated more of these flowers sooner. I wish I could have realized as a child that God loved me no matter what I did.

   And that I would do good thingsbecause God loved me. Never because I was afraid.

-Reverend Erie Chapman 

Day 84-85 One Hundred Thousand Welcomes

“The essence of our lives is how we receive the stranger at the threshold ... who is about to become a friend... and it is going to change you.”~Noirin Ni Riain

 On a recent sojourn, I discovered the charm of Ireland’s people and the enchantment of her stunning landscape. I felt a deep connection of her past to present day and a vibrant spirituality embedded in nature. To arrive as a stranger and to be received as friend was a moving experience.

 Impressive beyond measure, were old structures that had outlived there usefulness but were not torn down or bulldozed over by progress. Instead, they stood gorgeous in reverent testimony of the ancestors. Traces of ancient ruins and stone walls wove patterns around homes and farms in patchwork designs. Newer homes sat content proximity to the old, blending history with the greening of life.

At every twist and turn of our journey, we were welcomed in as family. Our gracious hosts fed us, warmed our bedding,  creating a bond of trust and nurturance. We nestled in around a kitchen hearth or fireplace with a pot of tea, soup, Irish brown bread, sandwiches or homemade scones and jam. Conversation flowed easily around the happenings of people in community. I felt as if I had returned to a less complicated, more loving time, one that reflected the fullness of life at its very best.

My hope is to carry the precious gift of Ireland within me for all the days of my life. This experience led me to reflect on the meaning of hospitality with a desire to cultivate this practice as the foundation for living a rich life.

‘INCANDESCENT’

Imagine entering a room, to be
immediately wrapped by the
warmth of an incandescent smile.

 The smile of another, truly appreciative
for the presence of a fellow soul.

 Momentarily the world might stop, as the
incandescence would whisper its
unspoken meaning.

 ‘You and I are together. Along this
untrodden path of our two lives.’

 What meaningful cause could
possibly prevent one soul from
meeting another in such a fashion?

 By -Nic Askew

 Consider the definition of hospitality, “ kindness in welcoming guests, or strangers with generosity and goodwill. Hospitality is the relationship between a guest and a host....and constitutes a key ingredient of family life. Essential to hospitality is the ability to welcome people of diverse background offering food and shelter The Greek word for hospitality is philoxenos, which means "lovers of strangers." It has the same origin as the phrase philadelphia that means "brotherly love."

Philosopher, Richard Kearney notes “hospitality” stems from the same root as “hostility." He stresses the importance of acknowledging this reality in our human struggle and limitations to bring hospitality out of hostility. Else, we might risk hospitality becoming a only cheap grace instead of a sacred encounter. This duality  implies that we make a choice. When a stranger knocks on our door to interrupt our routine how will we see them, as a friend or enemy?

 Kearney describes hospitality as, "a ritual based on ancient customs.  A declaration of intent to  welcome the stranger." This is a common thread that runs through all religious traditions. Celtic Christianity manifests as an openness to the other. A recognition of Christ as the guest disguised as stranger in each of us, “I came as guest and you received me.”  Sacred singer and theologian, Noirin Ni Riain speaks of hospitality as 100,000 welcomes stating, “the essence of our lives is how we receive the stranger at the threshold  who is about to become a friend... and it is going to change you.”  

Authentic hospitality welcomes not only friends and family but also those who have nothing to bring to the table,  and without expectation of reciprocation. In her book, “Making Room,” Christine Pohl describes hospitality as a form of resistance to the societal messages that foster isolation and a lack of belonging. "When the larger society disregards and dishonors certain persons, small acts of respect and welcome are potent far beyond them selves. They point to a different system of valuing and an alternative model of relationships." Hospitable practices can challenge our previously unchallenged beliefs and values.

In closing, I’d like to introduce you to an artistic experiment in hospitality called, The Guestbook Project. Directed by philosopher Richard Kearney and sponsored by Boston College, the project's core themes are the relationship between host and stranger; violence and reconciliation; the citizen and the alien. Learn more by watching this informative video.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

   

 

Days 82-83 - "Listen To Your Life"

   "Listen to your life." -Frederick Buechner

 
    Early this morning, I was studying a new photograph: A cardinal-red freighter sleeping in the sky as well as on the sea. Instead of listening to the peace in this image, I found myself analyzing if it was as good as I wanted it to be.

   My three-year-old granddaughter sat on the floor nearby.

   "Why are we doing?" She asked. Of course, she meant What. 

   " Why are we doing?" In the last chapter of my life, am I still spending too much doing rather than listening?

   "Listen to your life?" How could I not be listening to it? But, I know I often grow deaf.

   What deafens me are everyday worries, tasks, watching the lives of others in movies or on the news, or on the  strange, yakety world of Facebook.  Most troubling may be my preoccupation with how other people hear my life rather than how I do.

  Beyond that, there comes my endless effort to figure out my life rather than appreciate it for what it is. Boechner writes: "See [your life] for the fathomless mystery that it is."

   But how can I "see" into the "fathomless?" Of course, I can't with ordinary eyes. I can only celebrate or suffer (or live some admixture of the two) with the eyes of my heart. 

   "In the boredom and the pain of it no less than the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it...?" Buechner wants us to push our senses, not let them go dead.

   Imagine tasting your life. What would it mean for me to touch my life. These are new ways to imagine our existence as well as that of those for whom we care. 

   In our rare moments of privacy - in the shower, sitting and waiting (like the woman I photographed waiting in a museum lobby), or in the moments before we travel to the land of our midnight dreams (below).  Might we listen to our lives in a way never experienced? My granddaughter still sees the world with the fresh language poets envy, "The ocean is "wrinkly," she advises us.

  Can we take a breath, let go of our usual patterns, and rest within the wrinkled currents of our life?

   Why listen? Can't we just live our workaday world without troubling ourselves with questions of the spirit? This is what so many seem to do - move from one task to another, steal a moment here and there to drink a glass of wine and glance at a sunset (or, more likely, the television screen) go to sleep, wake up, do it again...unless some horrible tragedy intervenes to shock us into a different consciousness.

  The poetic philosphers and theologians share great wisdom. If we listen to them, we have the chance to hear the Love that lies within. Once again, Dr. Buechner "... all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." 

-Reverend Erie Chapman

*all photos copyright protected

Days 79-81 - Xavier's Question

"In the celebration that is the healing, we should never doubt what our coworkers bring to the party." -Xavier Espinosa

   A wonderful caregiver and frequent commenter in this Journal, Xavier Espinosa, has shared with us a wonderful and powerful way to ask an old question. Millions of times a day, people ask others, "What do you do?"

   In caregiving, as with most other roles, we tend respond at the surface level. "I'm a nurse." or "I'm a housekeeper." This tells others what we do, but not the deeper meaning of how what we do helps others.

   As Xavier points out, when we expand our answer, we enlarge the definition of our daily work. As we do this, our work becomes more and more meaningful.

   Questions focus energy. It's remarkable to see the way a repeated question can raise and extend energy for those who think more deeply about the meaning of their work.

   I once asked a radiologic technologist what he did. "I'm just a button-pusher," he replied.

   Imagine if this caregiver limited his own thoughts to his role. If he is "just a button-pusher" his work doesn't matter very much. If his work doesn't matter, than his interactions with patients may not matter either.

  In Xavier's exercise, if the "button-pusher" keeps expanding his answer he will hopefully arrive at the conclusion that he is a caregiver who, many times a day, affects the lives of others.

   In my book, Radical Loving Care, I tell the story of Lois Powers, a woman I met while I was president of Nashville's Baptist Hospital. Lois's name-tag said she was a cashier. But, Lois understood she was much more than that. During her brief encounters with people passing her cash register, she would tell jokes to brighten the days of customers or reach out a caring hand if she sensed sadness. "After all, this is a hospital" she told me one day. "People may feel very worried when I meet them. I want to take a moment to help."

  Those who have come to think of their work as only what's on their name tag are more likely to 1) experience burn-out, 2) make more mistakes, 3) be less likely to offer healing to others. All of this is because, in their minds, their job doesn't really matter very much. They may be there only for a paycheck.

   Xavier's questioning exercise may cause people to rediscover the meaning of their work as caregivers. When they re-learn this, they rediscover joy. Energy returns, mistakes are less frequent because they are a caregiver, not a "button-pusher."

   The right pattern of questions and the answers we give ourselves open the doors of our hearts to the energy of healing. All because of an old question answered in new ways.

   Thank you, Xavier.

-Reverend Erie Chapman 

  

  

Days 77-78 In the Shelter of Each Other

 "It is in the shelter of each other that the people live." Irish Proverb

My grandmother, Catherine Carter, left her homeland of Ireland at the young age of seventeen. She set sail for America seeking adventure with a burning desire to live out the dreams of her potential. Cate was the oldest of six children. Her brother Charlie (age 12) took her in a horse drawn carriage to the waterfront port. Her youngest brother, David was so upset with her leaving that he ran and hid and did not say goodbye. 

Kate traveled the long ocean journey alone. She arrived in New York and worked as a governess. She married James Lawler and together they raised six children. Cate never returned to Ireland. She never set eyes on her family again, never felt their warm embrace; never heard the love in their voices.

Mom often recounted stories for us of grandma’s family life on a farm in Ballyquirke, Gowran, Co. Kilkenny. I’ve held fond images in my mind as I imagined her family life in this far off distant land. Through the years, my brothers and sisters dreamed of taking mom to visit Ireland but the “right time” never came to be.

Recently, a friend invited me to accompany her on a trip to Ireland. Initially, I did not see how I could possibly go due to circumstances and the timing was “not quite right.” Then something in me said, “say yes!” I decided I could not pass up this opportunity.

I fell in love with the people I met in Ireland. Although, I only spent a short day and a half with my relatives it was a deeply emotional experience for me.  The Carter family all live near to one another and most within a three-mile radius. They see each other often and life is wonderfully communal. We spent an evening in the kitchen, a group of women talking in their lyrical sing-song way. They spoke of nothing consequential, yet of everything that matters.

I discovered something very precious in their way of life.  I was completely taken in by their warm hospitality. I experienced a longing to stay with them and I did not want to leave. I was homesick for my newly met family and their enchanting way of being and living life as I had never known.

Although, I knew I would soon leave Ireland I wanted to keep this gift of hospitality alive within. I’ve been reflecting on the meaning of hospitality and next week I will share more about this with you.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 76-77 - What is Our Personal Covenant?

"Covenantal relationships reflect unity and grace and poise. They are an expresson of the sacred nature of relationships." - Max DuPree

   What is the promise we make to ourselves in this life? What pact do we have hidden in our heart - the one we have with God?

   It's a hard question. We enter this earth by Providence. We are born bearing gifts within us including, most crucially, the gift of God's Love.

   Gradually, we make promises to ourselves - to tell the truth, to help others, to do our best, to live with integrity. Perhaps we promised ourselves long ago that we would find someone we loved and to join with the that person in a new covenantal relationship.

   How are we doing keeping the covenants we have made? Some relationships are certain to crack apart under the strain of our lives in this world. Other relationships have endured. New ones are formed.

   When are relationships are informed with Love, they will be always be sacred.  That is the promise offered to us by our fellow caregivers.

   We can, of course, invite any one of our colleagues to become our acquaintances or our friends. To create a sacred covenant requires a deeper decision.

   Deep relationships involve a level of trust, sharing and vulnerability that can be both joyful and excruciating. When we perceive betrayal, we may feel humiliated for the secrets our former partner knows about us. When we are able to sustain a trusting covenant, we will know the finest joy life has to offer.

   The quality of covenants we are able to form depends first and formost on the Love we have found within ourselves. Do we accept God's Love for us? If so, we can Love others. If not, our friendships will be as fragile any frayed filament - at risk for breaking when subjected to the slightest pressure.

  Patients come to us because they trust we will honor our covenant to give them our best skill and effort. It is when we have a true covenant with God's Love that we can offer them something more. This is the gift of healing.

-Erie Chapman

Days 73-75 - Honoring The Faintest Voice

    Bev Smith was an administrative intern at Riverside Methodist Hospital during the time I was President and CEO there.  As part of our story-telling culture, she shared a heart-searing account of the power our presence can have on the faintest of voices - a voice so soft it seemed to come from the quietest corner of a darkened room:  

   "On one particular evening, I walked by a patient's room in the Critical Care Unit and noticed a woman lying very still as tubes flowed into her and a monitor beeped a faint but steady reminder to "hold on." Although she didn't seem to hear, I chatted with her for a moment then quietly left the room with a wave.

   "For fifteen straight nights I stopped by Ms. Lewis's room to say hello. She never moved or opened her eyes in response.

   "On the sixteenth evening, I was in a bit of a hurry, so I waved a quick "Hello, Ms. Lewis" as I sped past the door, only to hear a faint "Hello" drift from the room. I rapidly retraced my steps and found myself looking into a smiling pair of blue eyes. Ms. Lewis reached for my hand and said in a whisper, "I waited for you every evening to stop in my room and talk to me. It made the nights bearable. Thank you, young lady."

   How many times have we unintentionally ignored patients in the mistaken belief that our presence doesn't matter? When we do speak, how often have we spoken to the elderly as if they were tiny children? How often have we assumed our reassurance means nothing to an apparently unconscious patient.

   The value of speaking to these fellow beings is not only for their potential benefit. So long as we are present to the weakest among us, we honor their humanity and this affects our overall treatment of the person.

   The Recovery Room nurse who chats with her unconscious patients is far more likely to treat them well than if she views them as inanimate objects. Sadly, I have actually heard both doctors and O.R. nurses say (within the subconscious hearing of anesthetized patients) things like, "Okay, send in another side of beef." Or, "Bring in the next victim."

   This effort to remind us of the best way to treat the apparrently comatose is not meant to chastize those who forget. It is to signal that Radical Loving Care calls us to honor all patients, not just the ones who can communicate in ways to which we are accustomed.

   Is it not the patients with the faintest voices (or no voice at all) who most need our Loving presence?

-Reverend Erie Chapman 

  

Days 71-72 Presents

Presents

I give you an emptiness

I give you a plentitude

unwrap them carefully.

-one's as fragile as the other-

and when you thank me

I'll pretend not to notice the doubt in your voice

when you say theyr'e just what you wanted.

Put them on the table by your bed.

When you wake in the morning

they'll have gone through the door of sleep

into your head. Whenever you go

they'll go with you and

wherever you are you'll wonder,

smiling about the fullness

you can't add to and the emptiness

you can fill.

Days 69-70 - Real Intimacy

"Real intimacy is a sacred experience...[it] is of the soul, and the soul is reserved." - John O'Donohue - from Anam Cara

   What does it mean to be truly intimate with another? What happens to you when you open your heart so widely that you find you have exposed your deepest self to another?

   Love invites us to take the risks involved in true intimacy.  In fact, it is only through this commitment to intimacy that we may know Love. 

   Intimacy's initiation ceremony can be heart-rending.

   We may have taken previous steps toward intimacy and have felt misled. Hurt, we jumped back to what looked like safe ground and have never tried again. In so doing, we have cut off the best Love has to offer.

   It is hard. Imagine, as a caregiver, that you approach an intimate experience of sharing with a severly ill patient.  You feel the patient opening his soul. With compassion and empathy, you decide to open yours to welcome him.

   The depth of the exchange may be unexpected. You see both your own life and your own death in the fading life of your patient. A bond is created. You forget that this patient may be on the precipice.

   Then, it happens. Your patient dies. Your open and fragile heart may die a death of its own. 

   Vulnerability opens a pair of pathways. Along one path lies the deep Love we all seek. We get a glimpse and find ourselves fascinated, enchanted, enraptured.

   But the feeling is fleeting. Everyday life yanks us from the poetic back to the prosaic. Where did God's Love go? Have we been abandoned? Did we really touch the hem of ecstasy?

   Something within us says that the answer is Yes. Yes, we touched the hem. Yes, we felt unparalleld rapture. Yes, we will seek the sacred once again. We will remain loyal to Love's holy promise.

   Along a parallel path to intimacy, we find thorns that rip our heart to shreds. The intimacy we trusted was only a mean mirage.

   The patient dies (abandons us). The music we thought was coming from our hearts was nothing more than a trick. The love expressed to us was a bitter betrayal.

   Mid-path, we turn back, never again to journey forth. Now, our heart says No.The rapture was fake. No, we will never travel this way again. We have fallen into the land of the cynic.

   As caregivers, as children of Love, do we really want to decline Love's Light? In fact, this is what most of us do. It's too hard, painful and risky to plunge all the way into a place where a hard-headed analysis warns that agony may outweigh joy.

   What is joy worth to us? We can't know unless we risk everything and then let go. Joy lives in the place of letting go. Joy lives at the heart of intimacy.

-Erie Chapman 

Days 66-68 - The Magic of Persistence

  When we serve others in the manner of The Good Samaritan we are living the highest calling of the caregiver. What so many miss about this mission is the importance of persistence.

   It's fine to do good acts here and there. What is so demanding is to express Love consistently. This is the radical in Radical Loving Care - consistently going beyond what is expected, even (or especially) if we must do it along without support.

   We are, of course, only human. We are vulnerable to mood, fatigue and irritability. Accordingly, we also need forgiveness - both from others and from ourselves.

   I used to flay myself incessantly for failures of irritability. This has been particularly true in my forty-four year long marriage when, in the middle of some disagreement, my wife will say (correctly), "Okay, Mr. Radical Loving Care. I guess you always have to be right."

   The fact is, she is right. It's in these moments of irritability that I remember, once again, how much easier it is to preach than to practice.

   This is the importance of persistence - to continue trying even though we know we will fail every so often. After all, this is not about our own perfection, it is about how well we serve others.

   Another value of persistence has to do with Love in the workplace. Too often, leaders and supervisors fail to recognize that it often takes years to move a culture from ordinary to extraordinary - and then to maintain that culture as lovingly as we might tend a Bonsai tree.

   Beyond leaders, everyday and everynight caregivers often find themselves giving up in the face of crossfire from supervisors more focused on fear-based control than on Love. It takes enormous strength to persist in living Love.

   We all know these things. What the Journal seeks is to support caregivers with periodic reminders and encouragement. (This is also the reason I am planning a new book that summarizes the key principles of Radical Loving Care in less than fifty pages.)

   Know that you are loved. Living God's Love as it flows through you can be exhausting. But it is the only way of living that is truly worthwhile, isn't it?

 -Reverend Erie Chapman

*Radical Loving Care is available on Amazon and also as an audio book. It is also available via our fulfillment person, Van Grafton via [email protected]. All proceeds go to Erie Chapman Foundation, a Nashville-based charity.

Days 64-65 Growing a Global Heart

"We stand at a critical moment in Earth's history, a time when humanity must choose its future. As the world becomes increasingly interdependent and fragile, the future at once holds great peril and great promise. To move forward we must recognize that in the midst of a magnificent diversity of cultures and life forms we are one human family and one Earth community with a common destiny. We must join together to bring forth a sustainable global society founded on respect for nature, universal human rights, economic justice, and a culture of peace. Towards this end, it is imperative that we, the peoples of Earth, declare our responsibility to one another, to the greater community of life, and to future generations." ~The Earth Charter, Preamble

Concern America is an international development and refugee aid organization that has worked in fifteen countries on three continents, making a difference in the lives of more than two million people in thousands of communities in "developing" countries since its establishment in 1972 (www.concernamerica.org).

What distinguishes the work of Concern America is its belief and understanding that the transformation of impoverished communities comes from engaging local members in the solutions to their problems.

The Concern America field volunteer doctors and engineers, for example, don't staff health clinics or build water systems but, instead, they train the community members themselves to become the health care providers and water system builders, creating local solutions and expertise that transforms entire communities and helps people lift themselves out of poverty.

During a recent trip to Guatemala with my colleagues, I experienced first hand the good works of Concern America volunteers. I had the great privilege of meeting many Guatemalan people who have become highly skilled Health Promoters who can now provide healthcare to their friends and neighbors in their local villages.

How inspiring to see Concern America collaborating with community members to create a viable healthcare system where there was none. In addition, Concern America listens to the needs of the people and they respond with the utmost compassion and respect for the dignity of the person. They are also addressing the complex issues of water contamination and sanitation needs. Their approach helping others through empowerment is awe-inspiring. It is a highly successful model that is going to be replicated in other countries around the world. The Health Promoters accomplish the impossible with very little resources and they are saving lives and improving the quality of life for the children and family members.  It is fantastic to see change-taking place at the grass roots level among the people who really care about one another.

 

“Great opportunities to help others seldom come, but small ones surround us every day. ~Sally Koch

I will be participating in Concern America's 14th Annual Walk Out of Poverty event. This is a five-mile walk-a-thon, taking place on Saturday, April 16, 2011. Funds raised will support Concern America's health, education, and clean water projects in Latin America and Africa. I have set a personal goal of raising $500.00.  I invite you to consider making a small donation of $5.00-$10.00, or better yet, come join me!

I guarantee you will experience the satisfaction of knowing that your hard earned money will be well spent.  Please, go to www.concernamerica.org/walkoutofpoverty, click on the "Walk Out of Poverty Online Sponsorship" link, then click "View Teams" under the Walk Out of Poverty event posting, and click on my team name: "Global Heart"

Thank you! ♥

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 62-63 - The Great Tapestry

"Whatever image you take within you deeply,/ even for a moment in a lifetime of pain,/ see how it reveals the whole - the great tapestry." Rilke - from Sonnets to Orpheus II, 21

   It was a night of routine rounds for me at Baptist Hospital in 1999. I worked my way from the 8th floor down to the 4th, and then to the 3rd - the happy floor.

    The third floor of Baptist Hospital is where well over half the babies in Nashville are born. It's really is a joyful place - most of the time. It's a contrast to every other floor where the sick and wounded wait for health's return.

   On that night, I entered the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. As everyone knows, doctors and nurses can now quite often save the lives of the world's tiniest people.

   Laura was gently stroking the back of a baby that could not have weighed much more than a pound. But, he was breathing. "How is he?" I asked, expecting her to tell me the baby would be fine - another miracle.

   "He's dying," she said. He has no more than twenty or thirty minutes.

   "Where are his parents?" I asked.

   "They left. It was too hard for them. The baby will die with me."

   As I left the area, I turned and looked back at the two of them - the loving nurse stroking the back of her dying patient, speaking to him in quiet tones, honoring his fading humanity.

   That image etched itself into my heart so that twelve years later, it is as clear to me as it was that eve. I have told and retold this story and each time I take it in more deeply.

   Inside the tableau of those two souls lies the "whole tapestry" of Loving care.  Nothing in the nursing rules requires that the nurse continue to attend to the needs of her helpless, dying patient. It is within those rules that she is allowed to close the bassinet and turn away to finish paperwork.

   Instead, she chose to reach out with love to a patient beyond curing. She choose the caregivers most sacred power - to heal.

   That tiny baby could not, of course, say "Thank you." Nor could he have asked for help in the first place - have asked that someone be with him in his last moments on this earth.

   The encounter represents every loving exchange that has ever happened or is happening at this moment. It is the Good Samaritan.

   It is Mother Theresa reaching down to help a man dying of starvation. It is you as you choose to express love - and remember the image of your patient so that it weaves itself into the fabric of your heart - all of your patient care summarize in a single interaction.

   In the enviornment of caregiving, these sacred meetings are happening all the time. In the midst of pain, they bring us hope - a moment when Love reaches out and meets need in a way that is flooded with holy light.

-Reverend Erie Chapman