Journal of Sacred Work

How You Can Honor Caregivers Who Died

The finest twenty minutes on Television occurs each year's end when "CBS Sunday Morning" honors the famous among us who have left us.

   2024 was Quincy Jones' last year on this orb. If you remember his genius, including his production of "We Are the World,"* it was because you were among the millions joining hands and voices for a few moments of unity in 1985.

   James Earl Jones acting lit up the screen (e.g. Field of Dreams.) His stirring bass announced CNN and voiced a powerful cartoon caregiver, Mufasa and Mufasa's ghost in the Lion King. Now a "ghost" himself, he can still comfort us.  

   As I write this news comes of the passing of the peanut farmer who became President. Jimmy Carter was a loving soul whose leadership won him a Nobel Peace Prize and, post Presidency, brought us Habitat for Humanity. 

   Missing from the list, of course, are a million humble caregivers worldwide who passed away. They spent their careers easing our pain, delivering our babies, bringing us curing medications and healing us with their presence as co-workers. 

   If one of them is someone you knew, please reference them in a comment, below (your email will NOT appear.) That will honor their name to hundreds who read this column each week and help us remember all who spent their careers dedicated to meeting need with love. 

-Erie Chapman

*Co-written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie 

Thankfulness!

We are fortunate when we are able to provide loving care for another human being.

However, we must give ourselves loving care before others so that our reserve of physical, emotional, and spiritual energy levels are high enough to match the caring task.

Continuing self care can include such activities as daily walking, jogging, water sports, meditation, yoga, fishing, golfing, religious pursuits, and finding hobbies that relax a d refresh us!

Once we are well enough, we will be able, with a grateful attitude, to continually provide the high level of care for all we serve. And our higher life satisfaction will also engender an unexpected state of lasting thankfulness for our lives, and our miraculous desire and actions to help our fellow humans!

Terry Chapman Phd

The Universal Santa

  My earliest friend appeared in 1946 when, at three, I met my neighbor, Jill. We are still friends! (1951 photo by my dad)

   Because her family had a Christmas tree and gave presents, I did not know she was Jewish until about eight - or even what that meant.

   Christians, raised like I, childishly thought that our holiday, bearing our savior's name, must be the best. Even Jill's Jewish family celebrated "our" holiday. Therefore our religion must be superior.

   Then at twelve, we moved from L.A. to Toledo, My new best friend, Greg. was Catholic.    

   "You're going to hell," he said before Christmas.

   "What?"

   "Only Catholics get heaven,"* he said confidently. 

   "You mean being Methodist is not enough?" 

   "Nope," he said.  

   Greg was a year older and I looked up to him. It was like he was saying, "If you don't believe in Santa, no presents!"

   I asked my Mom. "Oh, those Catholics," she said dismissively. 

   When we moved to Nashville ("The Buckle on the Bible Belt") a hospital board member shook my hand, leaned in and asked in a loud whisper, "You're a good Christian, right?"

   "I'm trying," I answered, "and since you're a Christian,  how are you doing praying for your enemies?"

   His laugh signaled he did not take that teaching seriously. 

   Today, as an ordained minister, I follow Jesus and his teachings. Many Christians believe that Jesus spoke literally when he said, "You can only come to God through me." 

   My deepest belief is that God is Love for all, not just Christians. Why would a non-Christian who lives love go to hell?

   Love is the universal Santa. A patient's religion plays no role in treatment. Living love assures a sacred and magical holiday. 

   Merry Christmas from my family (including our five grandkids) to you and yours.

-Rev. Erie Chapman

Photo: 5 Grandchildren - by Tia Chapman. 

   

  

Making Music In The Heart

The arrival of winter’s dark sky signals  communities around the world to look to the miracle of light as a sign of rebirth and a source of hope. We celebrate the promise of new life, and we recommit ourselves to the protection of everyone’s right to their own radiant humanity. Stars remind us ofour own resilience, especially when we’re feeling down. They offer reassurance of our great qualities when we need it most. The star is a symbol of great promise that can help to guide our way. Just as stars shine, they encourage us, to allow ourselves to shine and to discover our common threads of meaning. 

Hanukkah, the festival of lights, commemorates a time of miracles when the faith of the Jewish people sustained them to reclaim their holy temple and miraculously kept the light of the menorah burning for eight days.

Christmas, the celebration of Jesus& humble birth in a manger, invites us to revisit the miracle of His birth; of an unconditional Love that has come to heal the wounds of humanity. The message of Christmas is a timeless one of love, hope and joy.

Kwanzaa is a Swahili word that means first and signifies the first fruits of the harvest. Many people of African descent enjoy this weeklong celebration beginning Dec 26- Jan 1 in honor of family, culture, and community.

In Hinduism the Upanishads tell us something very beautiful: There is a Light that shines beyond all things on earth, beyond us all, beyond the heavens. This is the Light that shines in our heart. The little space within the heart that is as great as this vast universe. The heavens, earth, sun, moon, and stars are there; for the whole universe is in Him and He dwells within our heart.

Black Elk of the Ogala Lakota indigenous people, offers gorgeous a glimpse into their sense of interconnectedness with all of creation. “O Great Spirit of the heavens, in the days infinite blue and amid the countless stars of the night season, remind us that you are vast, that You are beautiful and majestic beyond all of our knowing, but also that You are no further from us than the ilting upwards of our heads and the raising of our eyes.

Can you see the threads that bind us together in these various traditions?

December 21st, the longest night of the year, marks a celestial event that’s been interpreted as a possible source of the Star of Bethlehem; nativity story. Just as light shines in the darkness, the star is often considered a symbol of truth, spirit, and faith. The star embodies the notion of spiritual revelation in each of us.

My friend, Anne shares a beautiful recollection: “Winter Solstice 2020 went out with blazing color last night. After sunset, we walked in the dark, hoping to see the star. A few people sat in beach chairs and others around a campfire. I wanted to ask each one,” Have you seen the star? Oh, hey, have y’all seen the star?” The lesson from all of this (for me) is that heaven has reached down to earth, and earth has reached up to the heavens and we rejoice as one human family. In the dark, searching for the star, we had no thoughts of color of skin, race, religion, or where you’re from. We just sought the star. And in the searching, we discover that we ARE the star, with each individual human life being a cradle for the birth of Christ into the world. Heaven reaches down and we reach up and every living thing rejoices. No matter who you are, who you love, where you live, or how you look, you are a star, of great magnitude. You shine! You are brilliant! You are a beacon of light to the world. Yes indeed, you are. And the heavens shout all over the globe: ‘Amen and Amen’”!  (Anne Milligan)

Each of you are just as much a miracle as the turning of the earth, as the constancy of the northern star, as the beauty of changing seasons. 

May we remember
When you share with me what is most important to you,
That is where listening begins.

When I show you that I hear you,
When I say your life matters,
That is where compassion begins.

When I open the door to greet you,
That is where hospitality begins.

When I venture out to bring you to shelter,
That is where love begins.

When I risk my comfort to ease your suffering,
When I act against hatred, violence, and injustice,
That is where courage begins.

When we experience the full presence of each other,
Because of our shared humanity,
Because of our differences,
That is where holy gratitude begins.

May this space be a table
that is not complete
until all are welcome.

May this table be a space of beauty
where together
we create a series of miracles, and
where all that we share is sacred. (Andree Moll)

Liz sorensen Wessel

Angel photo and nativity Scene by ~liz
Sunset photo by Anne Milligan

A Double Drowning: Lightning Leadership During Trailing Thunder

When and how are crisis behaviors learned? Childhood experiences are early teachers. 

Balboa, California, Summer, 1951 Dad and I (pictured in 1949) strolled with my little sister along its beach. Suddenly, "lightning" struck. A pair of unconscious teens was being dragged from the water.

A crowd gathered. The boys, blue-faced, were dropped on towels. 

“They’ve drowned,” someone said. 

My seven-year-old heart was racing. Was anyone going to do anything?

Everyone just stood there except one.

“Watch out for your sister!” Dad ordered. Racing forward, he cradled one boy, then looked up at the crowd.

“You,” he commanded another adult. “Take the other boy and copy what I’m doing.”

The startled man obeyed.

No CPR back then. My father used the “Holger-Neilsen Rescue Method.” Riveted, I watched him turn the dying boy onto his stomach, lean his own body weight forward, and push down rhythmically on the boy’s back. No response.

  “Keep at it,” dad called to his partner. So the other man persisted.

  Amid the thundering crisis, lightning struck again. The dead boy coughed up volumes of water, and opened his eyes.

   “Okay?” dad asked raising him up.

   “Yes,” he sputtered.

A miracle! I thought. Death into life.

The other boy was still “out.” Dad rushed over, eased the other helper aside, continued life saving to complete a second miracle.

Without dad, the boys would have died.

---

The lightning of that crisis struck the crowd equally. In the trailing thunder only dad stepped forward. Only he found the courage to lead.

Head of the Hollywood YMCA and already my hero, he had shared other stories of life saving. I had never seen him do it.

Many freeze in post-crises thunder. My father showed me, again, what leadership looked - including with his final act that day.

“Let’s go, kids” he said, leading us offstage.

As we walked away, I studied the bystanders. No one patted my hero father on the back. He did not need that. 

Humility, common in caregivers, rare among leaders, needs no applause.

-Erie Chapman, III

The Miracle of Kindness

Kindness

One never knows
How far a word of kindness goes;
One never sees
How far a smile of friendship flees.
Down, through the years,
The deed forgotten reappears.

One kindly word
The souls of many here has stirred.
Man goes his way
And tells with every passing day,
Until life's end:
"Once unto me he played the friend."

We cannot say
What lips are praising us to-day.
We cannot tell
Whose prayers ask God to guard us well.
But kindness lives
Beyond the memory of him who gives.

Edgar Albert Guest

A Loving gesture or simple acts of kindness can have impacts on the receiver way beyond our ever knowing. As a teenager I worked on a behavioral health unit for teenagers. One day,  I was walking along a path from the towns common area down to the Retreat Center. As I passed a youth I smiled and said hello. Some weeks later that same patient told me what a significant impact that friendly greeting was for him on that particular day when he was feeling isolated, depressed and alone. I had no idea.

Each one of us can recall countless experiences of situations in which a person showed us a simple act or perhaps an extraordinary act of kindness. I recall a situation when I was up in the mountains during a snowy winter.  We drove up to a higher elevation to play in the snow, a novelty for those of us living in S.CA. Upon feeling quite cold and ready to head down the mountain I realized I had locked my keys in the car. Phone reception did not work and we were stuck there. This young, petitie woman offered to try and help. Strangers who observed our plight came to our rescue as well, but to no avail and quickly gave up. However, this woman was persistent and kept on trying. It took nearly two hours before she managed to get into the trunk of the car open. Once open, her generosity went even further as she crawled into the trunk. She worked long and hard to get the back seat to fold down and crawled into the back seat of the vehicle to retrieve my keys. I was in awe that someone would go to those lengths to help us. One of those people I will never forget. An act of kindness out of the goodness of her heart!

In healthcare, caregivers are making a huge difference in the lives of patients and their families as they traverse very difficult and challenging times. Often as quiet heroes each day offering a kind word or a compassionate presence that means so much to the person who is vulnerable and suffering in some way. The impact of these gestures on the receiver as well as the giver are often reciprocal in which each person experiences healing.

Whenever we act from a place of love, miracles occur.  According to A Course of Miracles (ACIM), spiritually, “There is no order of difficulty in miracles. One is not "harder" or "bigger" than another. They are all the same. All expressions of love are maximal.”

The above familiar photo is of my grandson, gifting me with a bouquet of dandelions that he picked. I am so grateful that his loving gesture was captured in time for me to recall with loving fondness each time I behold it.

It is uplifting to reflect upon the little acts of kindness we receive or witness and share to write down and retell these little stories, and in this way rekindle them in our hearts and relive them. Loving thoughts that bind us together forever.

Liz Sorensen Wessel

The Day I Won The Lottery

 

Naturally, I recall that day's anticipatory joy.

   The memory evokes a seven centuries old sentence: Dante's opening to, The Divine Comedy,*: “Midway along the journey of our life I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had wandered off from the straight path."

   The sentence matters because we wonder: "Where am I in my life?" Or, when older, "Where have I been?"

   In the middle of my life I won the lottery. No dark wood but a sunlit dream.  Greeks coined such epiphanies Anagnorisis**

   The day the prize was delivered, July 1, 1983. At thirty-nine, I walked through the doors of not just any hospital, but Riverside Methodist, the largest in Ohio. I was too immature to imagine the depth of the victories ahead including becoming a top ten hospital and reshaping RMH into a flagship as founding president of OhioHealth.

   Thousands of other caregivers walked through those same doors. I was their CEO. What an incredible privilege it was...and remains so to this day.

   Ten years later, my son said: "Dad! You are at the top of your career!" Still not getting it, I told him, "No. I must go higher."

   Such ambition blocked my grasping that good luck in the moment. Yes. There were more successes, mixed with agonizing personal defeats. Yet, my son was right. 

   Some say in the middle of their lottery-winning days, "Thank God it's Friday." Or, "I can't wait until retirement." 

   If you are any level caregiver today and hear yourself wanting "out" you have "wandered off the path" or are under-appreciating your riches. Each day you awake in the middle of your chance to help heal others.

   Realizing your calling is better than winning the lottery because it is a lifetime gift. I finally appreciate that. We tried our best to help thousands. And did.    

-Erie Chapman

Photo: Riverside 2024 and circa 1980s

*Also contains Dante's Inferno describing the nine circles of hell. 

**Anagnorisis a moment in a play...when a character makes a critical discovery...recognition not only of a person but also of what that person [or moment] stood for. 

Who We Truly Are

We do not become healers.
We came as healers. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.

We do not become storytellers.
We came as carriers of the stories
we and our ancestors actually lived. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.

We do not become artists. We came as artists. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.

We do not become writers.. dancers.. musicians.. helpers.. peacemakers. We came as such. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.

We do not learn to love in this sense.
We came as Love. We are Love.
Some of us are still catching up to who we truly are.

~Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes

These wonderful words of wisdom by Clarissa Pinkola Estes speaks to my heart. I think about my long and distinguished career in nursing of 47 years and the versatility it has afforded me. My first nuring job was on a hospital  oncology unit, then in community nursing to include home health, hospice care, palliative care, program development, education, leadership, and Mission integration. Pre-nursing, I worked evenings as a psychiatric aide in an inpatient facility while in high school.  My first job in CA was as a nurses aide in a skilled nursing facility. Throughout it all there has been countless ways to bring creativity into the art and science of nursing.

Florence Nightengale expressed this so beautifully, "Nursing is an art: and if it is to be made an art, it requires an exclusive devotion as hard a preparation, as any painter's or sculptor's work; for what is the having to do with dead canvas or dead marble, compared with having to do with the living body, the temple of God's spirit?"

As we journey through life, we learn through experiencing, discovering and living into our calling. Regardless of what we do, Dr Estes sums it up so very well in this one line, "We came as Love. We are Love. 

May we remember who we truly are. 

Shared by Liz Sorensen Wessel
Watercolor/ink pen by ~liz

Radical Hope Starts With Reality

 "Hope starts with reality," Dr. Clay Stauffer intoned, "and Fear is a bad advisor."

   I would have said, "No. Dreams father Hope." Clay is right. The launchpad for dreams is made of concrete. 

   Hope and Fear dominate most lives.    

   Easy to hope if we are healthy and safe. How could cancer's reality bring buoyancy? What about betrayal? What about any loss, especially when hopes for national unity seem distant?

   No depressed person says, "I feel so hopeful." When flattened by life, optimism was as unattainable for me as Pluto.

   Radical Loving Care^® ("Radical," meaning love beyond expectations) encompasses radical hope. Both live outside the box.   

   Caregivers know what once startled me. That many cancer say, "It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

   Miles* (pictured), a profoundly mature 20 year-old also surprised me recently by reporting, "My parent's divorce was one of the best things in my life."

   These radical hopers found joyful surprises beyond the box. How?

   The cancer survivor said, "I learned fearlessness." Miles (pictured) acquired "two great new step-parents and three siblings."

   These two show us the path to Life's fountainhead: Hope. 

-Erie Chapman

*Miles Chapman, my oldest grandson - 9/23