Journal of Sacred Work

Days 122-126 - Mom's Ticket to Heaven - in Four Words

    She is not saying she has a ticket, of course. Humble people never make such claims. But she may know how you could acquire yours.

   She offered her four-word counsel back at her 103rd birthday (picture). "What is your best advice to your great-grandkids?" I asked. "Help the other guy," she said. 

   She has done that in her way all her life. The flood of incredibly kind comments that have poured in following news of her hospice admission suggest her success. 

   Crucial is the fact that she did not help others to impress God. If we serve others just to serve ourselves we void our pass.

   Mom's view comes, of course, from history's most famous parable of mercy. Jesus described the Good Samaritan to a lawyer who asked him how to get into heaven. 

   We seek to acquire a wide range of "tickets" across our lives. My cousin, Dr. Terry Chapman, for example, is the first person in our family to be awarded a PhD. 

   After graduating law school someone told me, "Now you've got your ticket." After I passed the bar another person said the same. When I graduated Divinity School & was ordained I acquired yet another ticket.

   Tickets to what? No achievement matters unless you are "helping the other guy."

   My mother, like all good caregivers, knew that compassion comes from understanding the suffering of others. That understanding helped her help others.

   All tickets to heaven are free. But none is cheap. Very soon mom will be cashing in hers. 

-Erie Chapman 

Photo by Erie - "Mom at 103" (2015)

Days 120-121 Full Circle

“Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.” -Hafiz

What is life, if not our friendships & our relationships with one another? Life comes full circle.

As a child our hearts are naturally open & trusting. Little woundings cause us to bend & mold ourselves

             to belong…

                        to be accepted…

                                    to be loved…

As adults we are driven by the passion of our ambitions, we strive to find our place in the world; to create our identity & to make our mark.

Life comes full circle when we remember...

             what matters most;

                        people, relationships, our family & friends

                                     we recognize as Hafiz did that

“Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.”

Liz Sorensen Wessel
Mandala by ~liz

Days 115-119 - Gentle Light, Gentle Night

  She shows such elegance in her pink nightgown & polished nails that it seems okay to share this picture of my mom in her last days. Eyes closed, her ears are wide open to a violin solo being performed by one of her ten great grandchildren (who is playing at the foot of her bed.)

   During the months since I saw her last, my mother's body has turned from the work of living & entered the path to dying. Yet in spite of her astonishing age (105 2/3) she is so long in the habit of living that her spirit's profound energy keeps nudging her body to hang on.

   But that body that clearly wants to quit. Symbolic is the small stroke a week ago that shut her left eye blocking part of her view of an earth that she will soon depart.

   Her mortal mind has begun to forget names & places she has held dear.

   She also remembers.

   In a barely audible voice she recollects things like the sea breeze blowing through her hair on the deck of the ship her family took to Europe in 1930. And she offers her favorite memory: "Whenever the whole family sat around the table" & her sadness that everyone "always left that table too soon."  

   When I leaned down to greet her this past Friday she opened her remaining eye, gave me one of her heavenly smiles & spoke my nickname: "Oh Chip, Chip, Chip...," she said, "Hello."

   By the time I began to leave two days later we had shared some of the finest moments of my life including her reminder of what a "hellion" I was as a child: "You couldn't sit still," she smiled (& I still cannot.)

   Then, haltingly, she spoke words every son hopes to hear: "You...have...done so much...good, my Chip."

   I leaned close. We sang "Jesus Loves Me."

   Tonight I wanted to tuck in the woman who so often put me to bed & to say to her, "May your eternity be as gentle as you have always been, oh, mom, mom, Mother. Goodbye."

-Erie Chapman

photograph by erie, April 20, 2018 

Days 113-114 Be Here Now

 I was regretting the past 
And fearing the future. 
Suddenly my Lord was speaking:

“My name is I Am.” He paused. 
I waited. He continued,
When you live in the past 
With its mistakes and regrets, 
It is hard. I am not there, 
My name is not I WAS”.

When you live in the future 
With its problems and fears, 
It is hard. I am not there. 
My name is not I WILL BE.

When you live in this moment, 
It is not hard. I am here. 
My name is I AM. 

~ By Helen Mallicoat

Do you ever feel as though the universe is trying to get your attention? Perhaps through a conversation with a friend, or when listening to a podcast, reading or watching a film.

 I believe that God, the energy of Love or the Holy Spirit does speak to us through various means as an answer to a prayer.

My mind can race around the track a thousand times. What an athlete I have become! Yet this kind of sprinting does not provide a healthy perspective. Change, stress and peddling faster to experience some semblance of control only gets us further from any peace of mind, until we get off the track.

Sometimes when I awfulize, worry and fret about a problem that I hope to solve, my mind whirls… until I stop to look around and ask myself, “What is happening in this very moment? Hmmn… filtered sunlight is shining through the living room window, shadows dance on the floor, wind chimes are tinkling in the distance, yet I had not even noticed.  It is a great reality check that helps me to re-calibrate…

Well, throughout this particularly poignant life transition the universe’s message has been clear; be here now and I heard this several times in various ways this past week.

As I recognize my powerlessness to control my little universe, I sigh with compassion.

My generation may recall the book, “Be Here Now” by the spiritual seeker, Ram Dass.  I have a very old copy that I pulled from the book shelf. Here is a little excerpt.

 “The more conscious that a being becomes, the more he can use any occupation as a vehicle for spreading light. The next true being of Buddha-nature that you meet may appear as a bus driver, a doctor, a weaver, an insurance salesman, a musician, a chef, a teacher, or any of the thousands of roles that are required in a complex society—the many parts of Christ’s body. You will know him because the simple dance that may transpire between you—such as handing him change as you board the bus—will strengthen in you the faith in the divinity of man. It’s as simple as that.”

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Photo of my grandson, Cyrus

Days 108-112 - The Feminine Soul

   Committed relationships carry the lead of pain as well as the gold of joy.

   If it is our children we love then it is our children about whom we worry. Heart friends are sure to share their woes as well as their triumphs. Caregivers suffer with their patients & celebrate when they are healed. 

   We may think romantic relationships with all their wild expectations are hardest. But the most challenging of all is our encounter with ourselves.

   Almost at birth, we become split from ourselves & often end up in lives dominated by other's views.  

   The greatest psychologist of all time wrote that "Only what is separated may be properly joined." And Carl Jung is also the one who determined that the symbol of the soul for men is the image of woman.

   What symbolizes the soul for women? The answer comes sideways from one of Jung's disciples, Robert A. Johnson: We "must relate to the outer world from the strength of inner wholeness," he wrote, "not search aimlessly outside for meaning that [we] can find...only in the solitary pathways" of our souls.

   Radical Loving Care begins with marrying ourselves. 

-Erie Chapman

Photograph, "The Feminine Soul" by erie

Days 106-107 DREAM FISHING!

Note: A Very special thank you to this week-end's guest contributor: Terry Chapman

Fishing is a metaphor for life and my life is transformed toward wholeness in Nature. But when I can’t fish, I can still go dream fishing! Of course, all those trout I bring to my net are huge and none escape until I release them.  Dreams matter to us because reality can be harsh at times, and any soothing release is welcomed.  But dreams and even prayers alone will not suffice—we all must reach out beyond ourselves!  

Much of our world is in disarray with wars and refugees suffering and alone.  Dreams release us from reality’s harshness and offer visions of “a better place”.  However, there are far too many hungry, homeless and challenged persons in dire need of assistance that need specific help. Even sharing your smile with someone you pass on the street, or grocery shopping, or when you go to a Doctor’s appointment, can release positive feelings for you and the one smiled at.

It is quite easy to pray and dream, but meeting real needs demands action and many small acts of caring, which will save our world for all.  I will pray, care, help, and provide when and where I can. Beyond that, I will keep dreaming of a more perfect world where fish are available for all and the waters they spring from, are clear and clean and drinkable for all human beings, and yes, full of large trout!

I do dream of fishing to feed the world;

Not by machinery, but by rod, reel, and my lures.

I do not suppose I can perform a miracle of the bread and fishes,

But perhaps, just maybe, with God’s help and yours, we can

Cast out hunger; help feed the masses; lessen the world’s pain

And forget the name of the game is gain!

Jesus was a fisher of men; let us aspire to covert dreams of fishing to feeding those men!

 

By Terry Chapman

Photo by Terry 

 

 

Days 101-105 - The Crushing of Individuality

 

   In this 11-second video my fifth grandchild experiences his first bite of solid food & turns up his nose. Then his mom makes him laugh. Will his subconscious record that experiencing bad tastes can become fun?

   Are we our truest selves as babies? Does the pulse of society confuse who we are?

   Sydney Lumet spoke for millions when he said, "Everything conspires to crush our individuality."

   Society grounds our survival on our ability to pretend to like the dislikable. Indeed, to love our enemies.  

   The majority defines tastes. It will drown individuals at odds with it & thus pollute some of our most creative streams.

   How do we preserve our unique voices?

   My brilliantly profoundly caring writing partner lives in far off California. Mission leader Liz Wessel & I have met only twice in ten years. We rarely know the content each other's essays prior to publication.

   Nevertheless, we often hit the same topic simultaneously. Her last weekend essay touched individuality, the same subject I address here.

   Liz quotes Yevtushenko, "The most beautiful aching work of this world is to be yourself."

   We do not have to sell the complexity of our souls to meet every simple shout for conformity. We can keep the light illuminated in the rooms of our individuality. 

   How?

   Some caregivers think Radical Loving Care calls us to sacrifice the voice of our needs to meet the needs of another. But caring for others also requires self care. Love holds both truths. 

   We can preserve the sacredness of our secret voices by honoring them. 

-Erie Chapman

video of my 5th grandchild by his mom. 

Days 99-100 Mulligan Stew

Mulligan stew... according to Wikipedia, Mulligan stew is simply an Irish stew made of potatoes, vegetables, meat or whatever can be scavenged, begged, borrowed or stolen if need be.

During the great depression, homeless men often referred to as hobos, would gather by a camp fire to share stories, a brew and to  contribute a portion of food that might prove more enjoyable when shared in community.

I recall as a young child a "hobo" ringing our doorbell each year as he passed through our neighborhood. My mother would invite him in and cook him a large substantial breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. 

At the time it was all a great mystery to me. I remember the day my mom invited him in and suddenly a large stream flowed down his dirty pant legs into a big pool of urine on the floor. Eyes wide and a curious observer, ready to be repulsed, I witnessed my Mother graciously invite this stranger in to be treated as the finest King.

As I rekindle this memory with a sense of resurrection of a sacred time deeply buried, yet unearthed through this act of writing, I am brought to tears by the beautiful wisdom my Mother shared through her actions on that particular sunlit morning. Not in words, or in an air of superiority or charity but rather through her humble hospitality and the utmost reverence for human dignity.

 " The most beautiful aching work of this world is to be yourself" or to state it another way is to Love; unconditionally and without judgement whoever is before you.

For in truth, the person before you is none other than yourself... and just as the spokes in a wheel all converge in One center, we too are all part of a greater good and here for one purpose; to Love.

Liz Sorensen Wessel
Mandala by ~liz

 

Days 94-98 - What We Don't Know We Know

    Since he is six months old he cannot "know" that we experience his gaze as sweet, intense & even wise. He cannot "know" that the little girl is his big sister, that the woman taking the picture is his mother & that his mother has cancer (She is open about this & we seek prayers.)

   Yet in some impossible way, this youngest grandson of mine seems to "know" that his mother is sick. Friends comment, "He is so calm & cheerful." His older brother Miles says, "he only fusses when his diaper is wet!"

   When I mention that baby Reed is trying to care for his mom people smile. So does his mom, who feels better every time she looks at him, holds him, loves him.

   Reed senses what we think he cannot understand. Yet, whether or not he really "knows" one thing is clear: This tiny angel is one of his mother's best caregivers. 

-Erie Chapman

 Photo by Jennifer Chapman