Journal of Sacred Work

Days 149-151 - The Courage to Stay in Love

"Search for the longing, O you who love me." Old Saint

   During our son's birth the doctor spoke to his nurse about his golf game. A veteran of hundreds of deliveries, he had stopped seeing the magic we felt as that tiny being emerged to begin his life journey.

   Seven years into my forty-four year marriage, I grew a mustache. Six months later, I shaved it off while my five-year-old soon watched. To his astonishment my wife didn't notice the change until I finally pointed it out.

  I had forgotten the texture of the sofa that has comforted me numerous times. The falling light was lost on me until I aimed my camera at it.

   Have you looked at that painting on your bedroom wall? When have you studied your left hand - not because it hurt, but just to admire it?

   The challenge in caregiving can be overcoming the hypnosis of repetitive work. After the five hundredth elderly patient enters hospice, how does the caregiver sustain interest in the new patient's story?

   If we forget the story of the person before us, we are at risk for treating patients as their disease. 

   It takes great courage to stay in a Love that includes pain and boredom.

   When a doctor friend was hospitalized, he was stunned to be treated as "the gall bladder."

   "The housekeeper was the one person I wanted to see each day. If it hadn't been for her I would have felt like a number.  I had no idea..."

   This doctor had been practicing for twenty-five years. He had "no idea" that he had subconsciously distanced himself from his patient's experience.

   It requires a heart shift to notice the way our feet touch the earth, how our loved one looks in every evening light, to see the wrinkles and scars on our own hands.

   When I saw the workmen at left, I imagined them caught in their own web.

   The hazard of repetition is boredom. The risk of boredom is that we miss out on our lives. 

   The world has taught us how to avoid a whole variety of pains. College students would rather "Google" a fact than absorb it into the context of memory. We want robots to do more and more of our work. 

   Terrified (understandably) of depression, we take Prozac. Scared of fading sexuality old men take Viagra. Tired of hearing the same patient complaints, doctors imagine the golf course. 

   To minimize insensitivity, some seek to expand their horizons. Doctors may take art classes not to enhance their painting but to deepen their attention. Nurses may let go of power walks to take in what their hearts can only embrace at a slow pace.  

   If we fail to practice presence we risk our health and our ability to heal others. If we give up on full Love, we give up on a full life.

   The "longing" of the old saint is not to be free of pain or boredom. He longed for a Love strong enough to encompass every bit of life.

-Erie Chapman 

photos copyright erie chapman 2011 - photo of flags copyright tia chapman 2011

For those reading this on Monday,

Happy Memorial Day!

May we always honor those who serve! 

Days 147-148 What is the Color of Your Love?

 

           

Colours

by Donovan

Yellow is the colour of my true love's hair
In the mornin' when we rise,
In the mornin' when we rise,
That's the time, that's the time,
I love the best

 ¸.•*¨*¸.•*¨`*ི♥ྀღ •♫♪ ¨*•♫♪ ♥♥ღ(｡◕‿◕｡)ღ ♥♥

Blue's the colour of the sky
In the mornin' when we rise,
In the mornin' when we rise.
in the mornin' when we rise.
That's the time, that's the time
I love the best.

¸¸.•*¨*¸.•*¨`*ི♥ྀღ •♫♪ ¨*•♫♪ ♥♥ღ(｡◕‿◕｡)ღ ♥♥

Green's the colour of the sparklin' corn 

In the mornin' when we rise,
In the mornin' when we rise.
in the mornin' when we rise.
That's the time, that's the time
I love the best.

¸¸.•*¨*¸.•*¨`*ི♥ྀღ •♫♪ ¨*•♫♪ ♥♥ღ(｡◕‿◕｡)ღ ♥♥

Mellow is the feeling that I get
when I see her, mm hmm,
when I see her, uh huh.
That's the time, that's the time
I love the best.

  ¸¸.•*¨*¸.•*¨`*ི♥ྀღ •♫♪ ¨*•♫♪ ♥♥ღ(｡◕‿◕｡)ღ ♥♥

Freedom is a word I rarely use
Without thinkin', mm hmm,
Without thinkin', mm hmm,
Of the time, of the time
When I've been loved.

♥

 

Note: watercolor by ~liz Sorensen Wessel

   

 

 

Days 145-146 - Sound

   The every-thirteen-years curse of the cicadas has struck the southeastern U.S.  in an attack of biblical proportions. Seen or unseen, they are always heard.

    The male cicada's twitter increases depending upon the surrounding noise. He will always try to shout louder than the nearest racket.  I believe it. 

    What is the impact of sound in our lives? 

   Hospitals have their plague of locusts - monitors beep, tick and occasionally blare when their alarms are triggered. There are ambulance sirens, paging and, most preventable of all, loud voices at the nursing station.

   Illness creates exquisite vulnerability. Noise is especially painful.

   The sick are weary. They seek rest as their bodies try to heal.

   The rest of us are also drenched in noise. I have a 1920s era candle phone (above) in my office because its sounds bring a different feeling from the cell phones of today. Their dials click-open a door to my childhood.

   The presence of sound enhances our understanding of silence. Anyone who has stopped their car in the desert and rolled down the windows knows the almost-deafening silence that emerges from sound tamped down by sand. The same phenomenon occurs amid snow.

   Isn't it likely that hearing arrived in our species as a way to alert us - as another tool to help us survive? When did humans cultivate sound as pleasure? Isn't it probable that in ancient times mothers sang to their babies and lovers to their beloved? 

   Surely, the people of the pre-civilized world must have enjoyed bird's songs and the way the waves shuffled along the shore. 

   Why have we so flooded our world with manufactured noise that we often seek to escape it?

   Sound-sensitive, I carry earplugs.  They dim the cicadas's shouts and modify airplane noise. Strangely, they do little to mute the loudest sound I know: people shouting on cell phones.

   Noise can make us ill. The sounds of words can heal. There is healing in the voice of a caregiver who knows how to speak gentle strength into our vulnerability.

   When sound quiets to near silence, we hear our 
breathing and our heartbeat. We feel the closed-eyed-awareness of a loving presence or the open-eyed experiences of window sills, climbing vines, a blanket, a bridle and a shadow that cannot throw its bit.

-Erie Chapman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright Erie Chapman 2011

Days 142-144 - Love is in the Details

   There is that tiresome old phrase, "The devil is in the details." But, it's in the details where God's Love may appear most vividly.

   Find Beauty in the leaf and you have found her in the entire forest. Explore joy in the crest of a wave and you have discovered the majesty of the ocean. Find your compassion in the tears of another and you have glimpsed God.  

   It requires the stillness of Elijah to feel the rich textures that weave through great music, the calm of meditation to taste the colors in a glass of Communion wine or to hear beauty's song playing in the eyes of one you love. 

   If we rush we will miss the joy of life's jasmine scent. Velocity can steal from us the offerings of the forest awakening at dawn or the sight of the hospital windows lit by the low angle of the evening sun.  

   To hear the heart of another, we must fall silent. In this presence, we can listen for the breath beneath the words.

  This is not about what the workman does. It is not about his tools or his end-of-the-day fatigue. It is about the long, red X of the safety harness pressed against his back, the hint of matching scarlet in the stop sign beyond, the wrinkles that furrow his tee shirt, the white that ricochets off car and helmet and sky and the letters S.T.O. & P.

   If we can find the joy in things as "slight" as these, perhaps we can hear more deeply the needs of our own heart. Maybe we will be better able to meet the needs of others.

   This is not about the cost of a silver tea service or whether the lace on the sideboard needs trimming. It is about the shine at the right edge of the platter, the delicacy of lace, the reflection of the two bowls, the feast away from the food and what ever other elegance you may experience.   

   Most of all, this is about learning to see with the eyes of our hearts. 

   Our world fast becomes wearying if we can see a fence only for its function without recognizing the whorls in its wood, the scent of cut lumber, the occasional leaf that reaches between the slats to wink at us.  

    A camera helps me to see these details. But, the camera is only one way to focus the heart's attention.

   What I hope is that you will see in a deeper way this day and night. For if we recognize Love in this world, we can only want to serve her - not for personal gain, but because we are in Love and Love can only love

    The world is drenched in riches. We have the gift of our senses. Neither matters unless we marry the two in a new experience of God.

-Reverend Erie Chapman    

 

All photographs copyright Erie Chapman 2011

Days 140-141 For Solitude

 

 

For Solitude

By John O’Donohue

May you recognize in your life the presence,
power, and light of your soul.

May you realize that you are never alone,
that your soul in its brightness and belonging
connects you intimately with the rhythm of the
universe.

May you have respect for your individuality and
difference.

May you realize that the shape of your soul is
unique,
that you have a special destiny here,
that behind the facade of your life
there is something beautiful and eternal happening.

May you learn to see your self
with the same delight,
pride, and expectation
with which God sees you in every moment.

Note: Polyprint Watercolor by ~liz

Days 138-139 - Love Can Only Love - More About Our "Worth"

   We can only discuss the unknown with the language we know.  So whenever we reflect on our worth to God, we can only use our human-wrought words. This means we can, at best, only brush the hem of God's truth.

   Since God is Love and Love can only Love, than we have worth to God regardless of our actions. We are responsible for our actions only in this world. Here, we are accountable to each other and to ourselves. 

   This is among the hardest of concepts. A large portion of the world believes that the more good actions we take, the higher will be our position in the the imagined hierarchy of heaven. 

   But, let's assume this is not so - that Love is a stream that flows independent of our actions. No matter what we do, God Loves us because God can only Love.

   Does it matter how we behave? It matters in this world, if not in the next.

   In modern times, the classic example of evil incarnate is Adolf Hitler. Can God Love Hitler? Since Love can only Love, we already know the answer.

   We, on the other hand, can condemn Hitler as one of the most horrifying examples of a human being. Hitler made a mockery of caregiving. He was a monster we believe is barely entitled to be called human.

   How remarkable it is that God's Love is so great that it can encompass the worst among us.

   In the parable of the Good Samaritan, what are we to think of the priest and the one who followed him? Jesus wants us to understand how we are to love in this world. Jesus does not say that God loves the Good Samaritan more than the rest. Only that the Samaritan shows us Love's highest human path. 

   Now comes the hardest test. If we accept the truth of God's Love as raining down equally does this mean we receive no credit for the loving things we have done? 

   If we seek credit, we do so in vain. The lonely truth is that loving care can only be its own reward.  

   We go forth as imperfect beings to love others ... or not. We can always choose fear over Love. We can always choose selfish comfort versus selfless sacrifice.

   The decision lies exclusively with each of us. It is a decision we make within each moment. God does not compel us to choose. 

   That is what the suffering patient down the hall is wondering about you. Will you elect the path of indifference? Or will you choose to offer Love to soften the face of his pain.

   Can you choose Love even if you receive no credit on earth or in heaven? 

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Shape Study #2 - Copyright Erie Chapman 2011 

Days 135-137 - Our Worth Separate From Our Usefulness

"In solitude, we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness." - Henri Nouwen

   The fences we construct have a use. A forest glade grows as a natural occurence. It's beauty does not "perform." Yet, its value is beyond measure.

   In hospitals, nursing homes, and our actual home, we may well be valued for what we can do. I confess that I have spent most of life believing that if I was not useful, I was worthless.

   In my imprisoning world view, meaning was achieved only through performance. I did not understand (and still find it hard to accept) that if we see ourselves only in this way, we have betrayed God's gift of Love in our lives. For we have dignity and worth quite apart from our usefulness.

   The 17th century monk, Brother Lawrence, increased his understanding of God through a sacred practice. "I began to live as if there was none but God and I in the world," he wrote.

   This solitary discovery came, involuntarily, to my friend Rhonda Swanson. I have shared her story before and it's power reappears as an example of Brother's Lawrence's life path.

   In the lowest moments of her agony and exhaustion following a hard blast of chemotherapy Rhonda made a discovery. "Down there, I realized there was no one else but God and me," she told me later.

   In this forced form of solitude, Rhonda discovered her worth. It didn't matter what she could do. She realized that God was with her regardless of her "usefulness."

   How does any of this help us in caregiving or in self-care? Nowen wrote that, "...to care means first of all to be present to each other."

   Offering presence can feel like an effort to be useful. But, being present, leaning into the heartful silence that can bless an encounter with another, affirms usefulness and worth simultaneously.

   You offer care from the wellspring of your goodness. In solitude we  may come to know that we are loved only because, like the forest glade, we live.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

photos copyright Erie Chapman 2011

Days 133-134 Love and Fear

  There are only two feelings: love and fear.
There are only two languages: love and fear.
There are only two activities: love and fear.
There are only two motives, two procedures,
two frameworks, two results: love and fear.
Love and fear.

The poem, “Love and Fear” is by the poet Michael Leunig, from the book “A Common Prayer,” published by Harper Collins.

Love, we are love...

When I first watched this remarkable video OnBeing I knew I must share it with you. There is much I could say but there really is no need. You will see…

Note: Mandalas, pencil drawings by ~liz

 

Days 131-132 - The Woman by the Road - Loving the Enemy Within

"You shall love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." - Matthew 5:44

   Do we choose light or enter the door of darkness?

   Over the past few mornings, a strange sight has appeared on White Bridge Road, a busy street in Nashville. A woman sits on a stool supporting a giant sign that reads, "Shame on Molly M...."   

   To protect herself from the ninety-degree heat, the woman has erected two umbrellas to block the sun. A water bottle sits nearby.

   Revenge is hard work. I wonder who is suffering more, "Molly M." or the woman who hates her?

   "Molly" is the kind of enemy I've always thought Jesus was telling us to love. He meant our foes, not ourselves, didn't he?  

   But what about the enemies within us? I've got a crowd of people who've wronged me and I lug them around with me every day.  
       

   Fo me to live Jesus' teaching, I need to actually remind myself that all my enemies are within. They live in my perception.

   My worst enemy happens to be myself. I can't shake those voices that shovel hot coals onto my spirit just as I'm starting to have fun.

   Why do images of the world's hungry appear when I am served a great dinner at a nice restaurant? Why do those who live in hovels or prisons march before me just as I enter my lovely home to rest?

   Of course, we all need a conscience. But, bright people know how to see the million nuances that live inside every choice.

   We're all geniuses at rationalizations. They drive me every day into justifying what sometimes seem like bad decisions. Maybe my rationalizing blocks me from recognizing that I'm making the best decisions I can and need to take responsibility without incurring the double bind of shame.

     Perhaps it's time to come to terms with these dragons. But, absent an attack of amnesia, how will I drive them from my mind?   How can I change the story I tell myself about these enemies within?

     I don't know why the woman by the road hates Molly. It would be no wiser for me to question her motives than it is for her to pass judgment. But, I suspect she will gain no better satisfaction by detesting her enemy than I have had in hating mine.

   Insofar as I hate my enemy, I am hating myself.

   Do we differ from the woman by the road? Does our anger, like hers, cause us to miss the pleasant scenes of life?   

   Perhaps, this is the gift hidden in Jesus' message. When we make the hard choice to love our enemies - within and without, we find ourselves freed from the terrible weight of fear. 

   Once the stone of hatred is wheeled away, the light of Love can finally rush in to illuminate our shadowed hearts and bring peace. 

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Photographs copyright Erie Chapman 2011 

Days 128-130 - Bathing Things in Light

"To bathe a thing in light is to merge it with the infinite." -Leonardo Da Vinci

   Whether or not we are near the ocean, a single photograph can bathe us in her light.

   Leonardo Da Vinci so bathed "things" in light that we are illuminted by his gifts to this day. By spreading light across his subjects - whether through paint, by invention, with analysis or through his reverse-written journal - he made them immortal for us. As surely as Florence Nightengale, Leonardo held a lamp amid the darkness.

   Tonight, in a million places, one of our fellow beings will lie suffering on the floor in his or her own doubled-up shadow. Turning on a light will not relieve the darkness that burns them from within.

   Physical pain intensifies loneliness. Each of us knows this.

   When I awakened in the middle of one of those kinds of nights as a child, my stomach so abusing itself that I wanted to die, it was the comfort of my mother's hand or my father's voice that bathed me in light.

   In the first few years after I contracted Crohn's disease in college, my nights doubled up on the floor were spent alone. I wasn't going to let anyone help me.

   As the attacks continued after I was married, I still didn't want direct help, But, it was a comfort to know that my wife was nearby in case I did. When the doctor made a rare house call, it was his reassuring kindness that bathed me in light as much as it was his medication.      

   Because of the way Leonardo lit his Mona Lisa we all know her. A thousand years from now, medical students will still be reading anatomy books decorated with his drawings. His light is infinite.

   Each time you, as a caregiver, let Love flow through you into the shadows of another's pain, you bathe that patient with a healing potion drawn from Love's endless energy.    

   The science of the medical caregiver is focused on treatments that will rebalance a sick body's chemistry. Great caregivers are also artists who paint bridges of light that arc Love into the weakened hearts of the ill.

   Every note of music, every step of ballet, each insight of medicine, every line of poetry, each parable of the Bible - all describe the light we need so desperately - and prescribe for us what we need to have in order to live.

   We exist amid precarious energies.  Our troubled spirits need to bathe in Love's light each day in order for us to continue our truest journey.

   Shortly after Leonardo's death, one of his students wrote that, "It is not in the power of nature to produce another such man."

   Fortunately, Leonardo was one of those beings who affirmed that any one of us can bathe another in the light of the infinite.

-Erie Chapman

-Photograph - Ocean Sails #1 - copyright Erie Chapman 2011

Days 126-127 Caretakers of Wonder

Mothers Love-  I feel that in the heavens above/The angels, whispering to one another/Can know, among their burning terms of love/None so devotional as that of ‘Mother.’ ~Poe 1893

 Mother’s Day; we call out this day to express our love and to celebrate our mothers. I’ve had the good fortune to steal away from my hectic work schedule to spend a few days with my precious mom. She is 95 years young and has lived a life of loving caregiving.

As with all things in life, our experiences hold colors of both joy and sorrow. The sweet anticipation of being together coupled with the realization that our time is fleeting. Tender memories of nurturance intertwined with life’s poignant hurts and disappointments. I think of the many ways my own mother has been present throughout my life as caregiver, encourager, giver of generous affirmations, able to see something beautiful within me that I myself could not see…and my heart swells in gratitude.

 Bitter- sweet emotions arise as I reflect on friends whose mothers have died. They will share cherished memories of their moms and  pass on stories in guffaws of laughter and the taste of salty tears.

  
I will remember Helen Wessel, whose Easter  lilies faithfully bloom each spring in a glorious message of resurrection. I will pray for mother’s who are ill or may be in their final stage of life. My thoughts will be with Candi, who is becoming increasingly forgetful. I will celebrate the loving bond between a mother and daughter. A love so strong that Sue is planning to take an extended leave of absence from work to care for her. So passionate her recognition, “No one could take care of my mom better than me!”

 I will celebrate the courageous women who may not have physically birthed children but have imprinted their hearts on ours and who have touched our lives with their extraordinary gifts of Love and nurturance. The keepers of wonder; great women who have taught us to befriend our secret longings and to reach for our unspoken dreams.

 I will honor the men in life who are both mother-father, sons and friends. The caregivers of wonder, who provide sustenance for their mothers, wives and children. Men who unceasingly show up for us and through their caring gestures ease the burdens of our mundane routines and daily responsibilities. Lovers who stir within us their passion to paint beauty and encourage us to see with our hearts.

My prayers will be with moms who are ill. And my heart will ache a little as I think of and pray for those who have never received a mother’s nurturing love.

Aramaic version of the Lord's Prayer

O Birther! Mother-Father of the Cosmos, focus your light within us—make it useful. Create your reign of unity now; Your one desire acts with ours, as in all light, so in all forms. Grant what we need each day in bread and insight. Loose the cords of mistakes binding us, as we release the strand we hold of others’ guilt. Don’t let surface things delude us, but free us from what holds us back. From you is born all ruling will, the power and the life to do, the song that beautifies all; from age to age it renews. Amen.

Wishing you overflowing blessings this Mother's Day,  flowering in moments of caring gestures.

~liz Sorensen Wessel

Note: Watercolors by ~liz

Days 124-125 - Stones & Stars

"...one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next a star." - Rainer Maria Rilke

   I hit the "Print" button. Instead of arriving in the tray as a clear photo of tomatoes, a fork, and cucumbers, the photo ink slurps back and forth on the paper surface. I had loaded the wrong kind of paper. A "nice" picture turns from star to stone. Or is it the reverse?

   Our mistakes may contain stars. Because of this error I am learning to paint with photo ink. 

   Neuro-Intensive Care nurse Deadre Hall leans to wash the face of a local pastor who has suddenly landed in her care. "He got up this morning, headed off to work like he always does, and suddenly ends up in my hands," she says.  

   One minute, the minster's life is a star. In a split second, a stroke lands in his life like a stone.

   This is what hospital-based caregivers see every day - people whose lives, like an occluded moon, go from star to stone, or the other way around.

   Liz Krueger, M.D., receives triplets into her care in the Neonatal Intensive Care unit at Baptist Hospital. After she examines each infant, she exudes, "They're perfect, beautiful babies."  

   A veteran, she knows things could have been much different.  What could have been an "hour of lead" became a triple set of stars.  

   The possible arrival of trauma, including our own death, is a truth we know but want to deny. To accept its certainty could paralyze us - or release us into less fearful living.

   The recent life experience of my old high school girlfriend signals the way life can pivot at the pull of a switch - or the trigger of a gun. A librarian, Robin had enjoyed three decades of fulfilling marriage to a trial lawyer.

   "One night, shortly after dinner, I was sitting reading. Suddenly, I heard a terrible explosion from upstairs," she told me.  Her husband, depressed from decades of work as a public defender, had decided his life no longer mattered. 

   We all know these stories. In fact, we hear them every day. Often they strike very close to our hearts.

   We all live on the razor's edge. But, how does the prospect of sudden disaster affect us?

   I believe we need to love all out and leave the rest to Providence.

   At the moment when I face my own end, I don't want to wonder if I should have loved more. I want to live with all the passion Love can offer. For what is a star without light?

-Erie Chapman

p.s.  "Tomatoes, Fork, Cucumbers" - photo-ink print copyright Erie Chapman, 2011

Days 121-123 - Companions to Ourselves

 "It is God's Love that allows us self-love. It is God that enables us to be our own best friend."

    A dear friend asked recently, "Are you a good companion to yourself?" It's odd not to be sure of the answer after all my years of living.

  When I found myself alone as a child, I often drifted on an ocean of dreams. Staring up at the lone eucalyptus tree that hugged the white wall along our California backyard, I often found myself smiling. The clouds were playmates

   I was a good companion to myself - more so than were any of my teachers, forever irritated by my choice to color outside the lines or crumple note paper & sail it across the room. 

   The world was my friend. It's troubles lived distant from my mother's rose garden with its pink-scented gifts.

   Our avocado tree held the taste of green. The aroma that night-danced through the window of the bedroom I shared with my little sister was exhaled by a lemon tree not a spray can.

   Dragons lived only in fairy tales.

   With each passing year, the world estranged me from parts of myself. Encouraged by an extroverted father, prodded to be an aggressive male, I found my own company less and less pleasing. 

   It was from "successful" men that I was to find energy. The "winners" would teach me how to be one of them.

   Society's milieu pressed me to meet others expectations - to be a straight-ruled version of myself.

   As I traveled, I increasingly saw a stranger staring back from the mirror. I came to believe the world wanted only that stranger, not the rest of me.

   But, to be secure in God's Love means that we will automatically be good companions to ourselves.  That has been a challenging truth for me to rediscover and live.

   As a child, I didn't need to be reminded of this. Back then, I enjoyed my company.

   Today, I finally find that my life-scared, passion-driven heart is something to be honored and my own company something once again to be celebrated.  Even the stranger in the mirror I once resented is now a friend.

   We have survived. There is no need for us to inflict wounds upon ourselves. The world of our caregiving will always offer plenty of pain without our having to mix in shame and self-loathing. 

   Amid our own companionship, we can do more than tend our wounds. We can rest on a bed of joyful awareness. 

   It is God's Love that allows us self-love. It is God that enables us to be our own best friend.

   The avocado trees remain. The lemons, afflicted by the whimsies of weather and the certainties of age, will always let us touch their pebbled skin.  

   The old house I grew up in has been replaced. The rose garden has given way to a swimming pool. But, along the white wall, the lone eucalyptus tree still scatters the California sun into shadows that shift with the breeze.

-Erie Chapman 

 *Photo - White Shape Study #2 - copyright Erie Chapman 2011