Journal of Sacred Work

The Important Path To Grace - Days 339-343

   "What is your favorite feeling?" I asked family gathered for dinner. 

   My son answered first. "Relief."

   We nodded. No one asked, "Relief from what?"

  Pain demands relief. Gratitude requires grief. The crucial final step can lead to Grace.

   Emily Dickinson captured this best, "After great pain, a formal feeling comes/ The Nerves sit ceremonious.."

   "Formal" means, above earth's house of pain. 

  How do we reach such hallowed space? Pain is unavoidable, relief. a blessing,  Grace requires work. She is the life companion we seek, the friend who remains when Agony returns.

   We all admire those who, although un-drugged, appear serene in pain's darkest hours. "How do they do it?" caregivers wonder.

   Grace's face is Joan of Arc in the flames, Jesus on the cross, cancer sufferers, laboring moms. St. Thérèse of Lisieux wrote, “Everything is grace.” 

   We are not saints. And I find nothing un-saintly in groans emerging from a tortured body. Agony, emotional or physical, seeks expression. 

   That is why I admire what I rarely practice: a grace that draws from the deepest well of courage. The refusal to be defeated by pain. The insistence on transcending it to precious, indefinable peace. 

   The three-stage path is clear and crooked: Grief to Gratitude to Grace. Although the prize is serenity it requires so much courage to achieve, must less sustain, that few reach it except in life's last moments. We envy those that find it earlier.  

   My very dear friend and leader, Tracy Wimberly, had a sign on her office door, a synonym for grace: Peace.  In my weekly talks with her she hands me that gift every time. Meet Liz Wessel and you will receive that gift as well, 

   May Grace visit you now and stay with you always. 

-Erie Chapman 

Photo: April Sand - Bone Marrow Transplant Patient

Let Our Hearts Be Gently Turned: Days 337-338

 The season of Advent has roots that date back to northern Europe in pre Christian times. In the cold dark of winter candles were lit upon an evergreen wreath to mark the time, while each day people eagerly awaited the return of sun’s warming light.

In the 1500’s Christian’s adopted this beautiful custom in anticipation of the birth of the Christ child as a radiant Light of Love sent to help heal our broken world. Advent precedes the Christmas season and begins tomorrow, the Sunday closest to November 30, the feast day of St. Andrew the Apostle.

The circular shape of the Advent wreath symbolizes a Love that has no end and no beginning. Four candles, (3 purple & one rose colored) set on the Advent wreath signify our hearts' yearning with hope, peace, joy, and love. As we light the candles to reflect and share in prayer we deepen our preparation for the epiphany of the Christmas miracle to come.  Each week an additional candle is lit and a fifth white candle, within the center of the wreath, is lit on Christmas Eve.

The mystery of the Advent season is filled with surprises if we are patient and open to receive the gifts that are all around us.  In open receptivity Grace transforms our hearts to see anew.

Blessing When the World is Ending

Look, the world
is always ending
somewhere.

Somewhere
the sun has come
crashing down.

Somewhere
it has gone
completely dark.

Somewhere
it has ended
with the gun
the knife
the fist.

Somewhere
it has ended
with the slammed door
the shattered hope.

Somewhere
it has ended
with the utter quiet
that follows the news
from the phone
the television
the hospital room.

Somewhere
it has ended
with a tenderness
that will break
your heart.

But, listen,
this blessing means
to be anything
but morose.
It has not come
to cause despair.

It is simply here
because there is nothing
a blessing
is better suited for
than an ending,
nothing that cries out more
for a blessing
than when a world
is falling apart.

This blessing
will not fix you
will not mend you
will not give you
false comfort;
it will not talk to you
about one door opening
when another one closes.

It will simply
sit itself beside you
among the shards
and gently turn your face
toward the direction
from which the light
will come,
gathering itself
about you
as the world begins
again.

Poem Written by ~ Jan Richardson

 The Advent season and tradition of lighting the candles helps us to pause in reverence and  acknowledge the sacredness of all life. In this way we prepare our hearts to be gently turned in the direction of light.

Whether or not you are of a particular faith or religious affiliation, may you discover the beauty of this Advent season and embrace the never ending mystery of Love's unfolding in our lives. 

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Wreath photo-Internet

The mystery of the Advent season is filled with surprises if we are patient and open to receive the gifts that are all around us.  In open receptivity Grace transforms our hearts to see anew.

Blessing When the World is Ending

Look, the world
is always ending
somewhere.

Somewhere
the sun has come
crashing down.

Somewhere
it has gone
completely dark.

Somewhere
it has ended
with the gun
the knife
the fist.

Somewhere
it has ended
with the slammed door
the shattered hope.

Somewhere
it has ended
with the utter quiet
that follows the news
from the phone
the television
the hospital room.

Somewhere
it has ended
with a tenderness
that will break
your heart.

But, listen,
this blessing means
to be anything
but morose.
It has not come
to cause despair.

It is simply here
because there is nothing
a blessing
is better suited for
than an ending,
nothing that cries out more
for a blessing
than when a world
is falling apart.

This blessing
will not fix you
will not mend you
will not give you
false comfort;
it will not talk to you
about one door opening
when another one closes.

It will simply
sit itself beside you
among the shards
and gently turn your face
toward the direction
from which the light
will come,
gathering itself
about you
as the world begins
again.

Poem Written by ~ Jan Richardson

 The Advent season and tradition of lighting the candles helps us to pause in reverence and  acknowledge the sacredness of all life. In this way we prepare our hearts to be gently turned in the direction of light.

Whether or not you are of a particular faith or religious affiliation, may you discover the beauty of this Advent season and embrace the never ending mystery of Love's unfolding in our lives. 

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Wreath photo-Internet

The Strange Way Grief Enriches Gratitude - Day 332-336

   Inside Thanksgiving joy another voices calls to me: "You better be grateful, buster, because you are incredibly lucky."

   That voice speaks truth...and can fuel guilt anytime I hear myself regretting, rather than grieving, a loss. It is good to take responsibility for failures like betraying a friend. It is foolish to wallow in that guilt rather than to let it teach you how to honor that same friend and the great times you shared.    

  Wisdom offers a strange truth: Grief, makes gratitude possible. Stripped of its low notes of grief incessant optimism can ring as dull as some Hallmark cards. 

   My best consultant is 19-year old grandson Miles. I have never encountered anyone who cultivates daily gratitude as richly as does he. 

   In his phone calls from college he routinely reports he is doing "GREAT." But he is no pollyanna. 

   "Why do you always sound like you just won the lottery?" I asked,

   "Because I am luckier than a lottery winner," he said. "And bad breaks can turn good. I was six and sad when my parents divorced. When they remarried I got great new step parents."

   When his other grandfather died, he cried his eyes out. Each tear signaled grief and gratitude.

   Positivity is power. Turning to it or jumping over it before grieving is a mistake. 

   Odd how I offer wisdom I rarely practice. My brand of sentimentality harbors fantasies of reclamation. And it is true that no mourning devalues what was there.

   Yet, wallowing in mourning or dismissing the loss, creates a self-made prison. Grief, makes gratitude possible. Honoring what once was creates meaning.

  The discovery, at 80, that without meaningful grief there is no meaningful gratitude has opened one of life's richest energies. I hope it will do the same for you.

-Erie Chapman 

Picture: Tyler & Miles Chapman

Grateful for Each Hand We Hold

 

Throughout the challenges, the pandemic, division within our communities, nation, and even families, the devastation in our war-torn world, and more, there is still so much to be grateful for, even the struggles.

One of the great spiritual writers, Henri Nouwen, wrote: “To be grateful for the good things that happen in our lives is easy, but to be grateful for all of our lives – the good as well as the bad, the moments of joy as well as the moments of sorrow, the successes as well as the failures, the rewards as well as the rejections – that requires hard spiritual work. Still, we are only truly grateful people when we can say thank you to all that has brought us to the present moment. As long as we keep dividing our lives between events and people we would like to remember and those we would rather forget, we cannot claim the fullness of our beings as a gift of God to be grateful for. Let’s not be afraid to look at everything that has brought us to where we are now and trust that we will soon see in it the guiding hand of a loving God.”

As we celebrate Thanksgiving this week, there is indeed much to be grateful for, each and every day, whatever might be occurring in our lives.

 

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is Thank You, it will be enough.” Meister Eckhart

 

 

Shared by Liz Sorensen Wessel
Watercolor by ~liz

Does Healthcare Need a Female President? Days 323-325

   A caregiver friend who rarely talks "politics" broke her silence recently with a rhetorical question: "Is our choice for President really going to be between two elderly white guys?"

   Her tone bore the despair of millions. The Journal is not a political site. Yet, even though caregivers know government's giant impact on healthcare many have thrown up their hands and stopped paying attention. 

   Freed of an organizational timetable, and a lifelong student of leadership in general and Presidential leadership in particular, I have taken time you may not have to study up. 

   First, a multipart syllogism: Since healthcare leadership has lost its way; and since the vast majority of CEOs are my fellow males; therefore, we need women in charge.

   More accurately, we need either women, or men with enough feminine energy to practice Dr. King's injunction: Leaders must be tender-hearted as well as tough-minded.  

   Second, electing a woman as President is a great way to shatter the glass ceiling nationwide. This is our chance to do something America has never done: elect a woman.

   Third, in an effort to be objective, I offer a choice for each side. For Democrats and others anxious about Biden's age, check out a capable middle aged, two-time governor with the ability to inspire America: Michigan's Gretchen Whitmer. (left)

   For Republicans, a superior alternative to Trump has emerged. Many of her policies are different than mine, however she displays excellent leadership skills, is a former governor, and, like Whitmer, demonstrates skill, intelligence and maturity: South Carolina's Nikki Haley. 

   Clearly, these are just my thoughts. My urgent invitation is this: If you care about leadership in general, healthcare in particular and feel discouraged, I offer you hope: There are good alternatives out there. Two of the best are women. 

-Erie Chapman

   

   

Bearers of the Light: Days 321-322

 

Amidst the darkness there are those who bear the light and show us the way to peace. Rabbi Irwin Keller shines a bright light to illumine our minds and hearts to guide us on a path forward. May we listen as the world cries out...

 

Today I am taking sides.

I am taking the side of Peace.

Peace, which I will not abandon
even when its voice is drowned out
by hurt and hatred,
bitterness of loss,
cries of right and wrong.

I am taking the side of Peace
whose name has barely been spoken
in this winnerless war.

I will hold Peace in my arms,
and share my body’s breath,
lest Peace be added
to the body count.

I will call for de-escalation
even when I want nothing more 
than to get even.
I will do it
in the service of Peace.

I will make a clearing
in the overgrown 
thicket of cause and effect
so Peace can breathe 
for a minute
and reach for the sky.

I will do what I must
to save the life of Peace.
I will breathe through tears.
I will swallow pride.
I will bite my tongue.
I will offer love
without testing for deservingness.

So don’t ask me to wave a flag today
unless it is the flag of Peace.
Don’t ask me to sing an anthem
unless it is a song of Peace.
Don’t ask me to take sides
unless it is the side of Peace.

Irwin Keller, Oct. 17, 2023

"Hold on to your courage, hold onto the fire burning deep inside, hold on to your kindness, fill your heart with light... I pray that you will always have a home." Lyrics from song "Home" written by Nadia Burnstick.

May we light candles for peace in the midst of this darkness.  May we take in all that is good and true and pure to dispel the dangers of living in fear. Let this Light fill us with renewed hope, courage and a remembering that Love holds us.

Liz Sorensen Wessel
Watercolor by ~liz
I heard the beautiful song called "Home" on the PBS series called "Little Bird", Episode 6 

"Family" Healers - Days 316-320

Seven days a week my chronically ill younger sister, Martha, receives a healing call from a "heart" doctor. Her truest heart ALWAYS  feels better after these calls - as if some magic drug had been administered - except better.

This "heart" doctor delivers compassion, practical exercises, and life-affirming attention. Different from any conventional physician, this heart doctor engages her husband and children on the healing team. Her husband is an engineering genius who helps create an environment supportive to Martha's status as a Little Person. Her teenage son is a natural improv comic who sends Martha the medicine of laughter. Her 15-year old daughter plays the violin, delivering healing music into her being.

The heart doctor is my daughter, Tia. She heals from her home in Italy. Her dedication to her aunt is beyond anything I have seen. Martha says, "without Tia and her family, I'd be dead."

Clearly, Martha is lucky to have an amazingly large healing team of relatives and friends. Tia is just one. The point is, who heals us beyond our doctors? 

And ancient and dangerous phenomenon in medicine is its obsessive focus on what is wrong. Where is the focus on what is healthy and how to advance it?

Family psychology is an illustration. We flood psychologists with news of family-induced scars.

The good news is: we all have a "family" of healers around us. The quote-marks signal an overlooked truth: Often, our dearest friends are more "family" then some blood relatives.

Our heart friends are the unsung healers in our lives. Today, you deliver healing to friends as well as to patients. 

May you always respect the healing power of your presence. Just as I respect you for the people you will help today

-Erie Chapman

Photo montage: Tia and Martha

Autumn Days: 314-315

 

This Blessing Becomes Empty As It Goes

This Blessing
keeps nothing
for itself.
You can find it
by following the path
of what it has let go,
of what it has learned
it can live without.

Say this blessing out loud
a few times
and you will hear
the hollow places
within it,
how it echoes
in a way
that gives your voice
back to you
as if you had never
heard it before.

Yet this blessing
would not be mistaken
for any other,
as if,
in its emptying,
it had lost
what makes it
most itself.

It simply desires
to have room enough
to welcome
what comes.

Today,
it’s you.

So come and sit
in this place
made holy
by its hollows.
You think you have
too much to do,
too little time,
too great a weight
of responsibility
that none but you
can carry.

I tell you,
lay it down.
Just for a moment,
if that’s what you
can manage at first.
Five minutes.
Lift up your voice—
in laughter,
in weeping,
it does not matter—
and let it ring against
these spacious walls.

Do this
until you can hear
the spaces within
your own breathing.
Do this
until you can feel
the hollow in your heart
where something
is letting go,
where something
is making way.

– Jan Richardson –
Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons

 

Shared by Liz Sorensen Wessel
Photo NY 2015 By ~liz

Secret Angels of our Destiny - Days 309-313

  Associate Editor, Liz Wessel, kindly reminds us to honor National Hospice Month. One way is to engage one of the finest writers of poetic prose: the late John O'Donohue. The ancient Greeks created gods that can help ease our fears as well. Hermes, for example, shuttled between the living and the unseen gods. One of them must have whispered the words below into O'Donohue's ear. Thank you, Facebook friend David Hoover, for sharing those words here:

   "The dead are not distant or absent. They are alongside us. When we lose someone to death, we lose their physical image and presence, they slip out of visible form into invisible presence.

   "This alteration of form is the reason we cannot see the dead. But because we cannot see them does not mean that they are not there.

   "Transfigured into eternal form, the dead cannot reverse the journey and even for one second re-enter their old form to linger with us a while. Though they cannot reappear, they continue to be near us and part of the healing of grief is the refinement of our hearts whereby we come to sense their loving nearness.

   "When we ourselves enter the eternal world and come to see our lives on earth in full view, we may be surprised at the immense assistance and support with which our departed loved ones have accompanied every moment of our lives. In their new, transfigured presence their compassion, understanding and love take on a divine depth, enabling them to become secret angels guiding and sheltering the unfolding of our destiny."*

Thank you, John O'Donohue, for showing how the dead can heal and protect us!

-Erie Chapman

*Excerpt from his books, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace & Divine Beauty

**Erie's Photo - "The Dawning of Night" 2016

In Honor of Caregivers: National Home Care & Hospice Month

Please Note: This narrative was written by a former colleague, Brian Beichner RN and it reflects the sacredness of our work. Perhaps, you will recollect this story, however it is so beautiful that I invite you to enter into this extraordinary encounter.

    "This reflection is my personal advice to the nurse that has to deal with the loss or potential loss of a patient. My advice is simple, talk to your patient, always. I talk to them on their good days, we talk when they feel off, I have whispered in their ear as they pass, and I still talk to them when they are gone, while preparing  their body for their last journey in this world.

We will call her Dee because she deserves more than “her” or a “she” in this memory. Dee was my mom’s name, so it is as good as any for the fictitious name of this patient. Dee was near comatose when I met her. She was mute, bedbound, and receiving most of her meals through a straw. I was to bathe her, administer medications, feed her, and chart her vitals. I did this routinely for a week until it began to feel empty. Her family told me that she hadn’t responded to them in months and that she was already gone but her body would not let go. I was relatively new to nursing at the time, so I took them by their word and performed my daily duties.

Between my duties, I would observe the lovely art around the room with detailed canvas paintings bright with emotion and life. Some full of joy, others more sad or somber, but all very real even down to the brush stroke. The family had informed me that Dee had painted them all, over 60 paintings in the house, not to mention those stored in the attic. Later while caring for Dee, I told her how much I loved her paintings, particularly the one of the ballerina. I wasn't sure but I thought she smiled, but I dismissed it and carried on with my duties.

This became my new routine with Dee; I would tell her how I felt about each of her paintings while I cared for her. I never heard much from her except for the occasional moan when I had to change her position. I talked about nearly all of them but my favorite was the teal clad ballerina dancing in the pond. One day while feeding her I shared with her that I told my friend about her paintings because she was a ballerina. Dee smiled and in the softest voice I ever heard told me, “I was a dancer, I love to dance.” She smiled for a few seconds longer and then her smile faded back to blank. This remained the only time she ever spoke to me.

I cared for Dee for three more weeks before I was transferred to another patient assignment. I always talked about her paintings while I cared for her but we never had another moment like the one discussed. However, I always felt like I could see warmth in her eyes from that day forward. I don’t know if it is true or if she even really talked to me. Sometimes I wonder if it was all in my head but I will never forget the bond that was created between Dee and I on that day and how it changed my nursing career forever. I always talk to my patients, especially when they cannot seem to be “checked in”. I think it is vital that a nurse say connected with their patient in any way they can.

Dee died at the age of 97 about 3 months later, or so I was told. I don’t know if she ever knew that I was with her but she remains with me in every patient I care for. I always look for the stories on the walls of my patient’s room. I search for the “ballerina” within each patient. I hope that someday, if I am stuck in the same state of in between, someone will search for me at the time I need to be found most."

Thank you Brian Beichner RN for sharing such an incredibly moving experience with us. Special thanks as well to artist, Anne Milligan whose painting compliments this narrative like a glove to hand. This painting was not created by Dee, yet it is Divine reflection of her spirit. Thank you, Anne!

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Halloween 1943: Nurturing, not Nightmares (Days 302-306)

   "Halloween 1943" sounds like a horror movie. I hope not.

   Three things unfolded well at my birth (noon, October 31, 1943)*. After the umbilical was cut I was raised to my mother's breast. Life giving milk. Equally important skin to skin contact.**

  Then, a standard test. A caregiver pretended to drop me. I threw out my arms as if to catch myself. 

   That balance test proves something Hitchcock incorporated into his movies. We all fear falling.

   Decades later I saw proof of how psychological orientation impacts sanity. Once, many ICU's were windowless. Now windows are mandated. 

   Helpless patients unable to distinguish day from night were developing "ICU Psychosis." Awakening from trauma, intubated patients wondered, "Does that analogue clock mean 10 A.M. or 10 P.M.? An inability to orient caused violent thrashing.

   Eighty years after my mother's first nursing, first hug and that scary falling test, I still need nurturing, balance and orientation IF I default to a chronic mistake: Defining my life by roles, making me a lawyer without clients, CEO without a hospital, t.v. host without a show, minister congregants, artist-poet-composer without an audience, father whose job is done. 

   But when my banker joked that I was a "has-been," I was glad to respond, "Better has-been than a never-was."

   Meaningful memories and beautiful remaining "roles": husband to a saintly wife of 57 years, grandfather to five, wonderful friends, the two-pronged ministry of Radical Loving Care^®...

  Wisdom warns that letting that determine self worth is repeating my old mistake. We are children of love and eternal light; not skin-to-skin but spirit-to-spirit with  God. 

-Rev. Erie Chapman

*My mother's first visitor that Sunday was her minister.

"Wow," I said, "A blessing."

"Not for me," she smiled. "He shook my bed when he sat on it and stayed too long."

Maybe that is why I am still restless in church.

**Photo by Erie: "Skin to Skin" (2012)

 

National Home Care, Hospice and Palliative Care Month Days 300-301

Erie Chapman has worked tirelessly throughout his distinguished career nurturing cultures of RLC and through his visionary leadership  has helped shape and transform the landscape of health care. He has long been a great supporter and advocate of hospice care and the sacred work of caregiving.

As we enter into November's National Home Care, Hospice and Palliative Care month we honor Erie's significant contributions. Throughout November we have an opportunity to pay tribute and celebrate all the dedicated, compassionate caregivers who accompany patients and families in their time of greatest need and who assist the most vulnerable among us to remain at home and in living the community.

May we engage our hearts and minds joining together to imagine what is possible in a community of Radical Loving Care

A Place of Belonging and Caring

We seek a beloved community:
A people who do not put fences around love.
A community that holds its arms open to the possibilities of love.
A heart-home to nourish our souls and share our gifts.
May the light of this flame remind us of the love surrounding and supporting us all.
May we each feel held by the gentle and fierce power of this love.

Let us imagine the stories of our lives as a starry universe above our heads.

As bearers of the flame, we are tasked and trusted to draw constellations in this, our beloved, small universe. May the stories we connect draw constellations that reflect a shared ministry that calls out the best in us.
By Rev. Kimberlee Anne Tomczak Carlson, (adapted by Rev. Leia Durland-Jones)

Liz Sorensen Wessel
Watercolor by ~liz

 

"Oh, Erie!" - Days 296-299

 "My problem playing alone is that I'm always getting mad at my partner," I joked to my close golfing friend, cardiologist Dr. Allen Naftilan.

   When Allen misses a shot, he shouts, "Oh, Allen!," so often that another pal gave him a golf towel with "Oh Allen!" written on it. 

   Golf courses are serene settings. Especially when no one is playing. When busy, the air is often pockmarked with epithets from those who have forgotten the game played amid nature. 

   It is great to joke about self anger in golf. Not so much in our professional lives.

   Self anger is natural. It can also turn into something highly toxic: self loathing. Responsible adults make the wiser choice. They take responsibility from mistakes and learn from them. 

   The opposite of taking responsibility occurs every time our former President speaks. His golf towel should read, "It is NEVER my fault."

   Our humanness guarantees mistakes. I am way am wiser about self anger than I used to. Still, too often, I hear a voice shouting at me and realize it is my own. "Oh, Erie!"

-Erie Chapman

    

   

The Power of One Smile Days 293-294

This is one of my all-time favorite images of my grandson Cyrus. The sincerity of his thoughtfulness to pick dandelions and present them to me was such a sweet gesture that warms my heart to this day. For me, it was the most beautiful bouquet ever!!! These are the memories that linger through time and rekindle emotions of love, joy and gratitude.

Today with all the horrific tragedies that are unfolding around the world it stirs emotions of  deep despair, anguish and helplessness. I find reassurance in knowing thet even the smallest gesture of love can make a difference for someone else. I came across this poem that speaks to my heart and I wish to share it with you.

 

One smile has the power to...

Calm fears.

Soften stone walls.

Warm a cold heart.

Invite a new friend.

Lighten heavy loads.

Promote good deeds.

Brighten a gloomy day.

Comfort a grieving spirit.

Offer hope to the forlorn.

Lift the downtrodden soul.

Patch up invisible wounds.

Weaken the hold of misery.

Act as medicine for suffering.

Fulfill the human need for love and connection.

~ Richelle E. Goodrich (adapted)

Thank you for all the many ways you offer light and love for the benefit of others and for the common good of all.

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Entering Another: one of "Ten Poems to Change Your Life" - Days 288-292

Symeon the Theologian
Turkey (949 - 1032)

NOTE: Although the following poem, cited Housden't as one of Ten Poems to Change Your Life , is by a 10th century Christian mystic, I offer it as a powerful commentary on how any of us may engage any relationship so deeply that it feels we have merged with that entity. - Erie Chapman

We awaken in Christ's body

by Symeon the New Theologian (10th century)

English version by Stephen Mitchell
Original Language Greek

We awaken in Christ's body
as Christ awakens our bodies,
and my poor hand is Christ, He enters
my foot, and is infinitely me.

I move my hand, and wonderfully
my hand becomes Christ, becomes all of Him
(for God is indivisibly
whole, seamless in His Godhood).

I move my foot, and at once
He appears like a flash of lightning.
Do my words seem blasphemous? -- Then
open your heart to Him

and let yourself receive the one
who is opening to you so deeply.
For if we genuinely love Him,
we wake up inside Christ's body

where all our body, all over,
every most hidden part of it,
is realized in joy as Him,
and He makes us, utterly, real,

and everything that is hurt, everything
that seemed to us dark, harsh, shameful,
maimed, ugly, irreparably
damaged, is in Him transformed

and recognized as whole, as lovely,
and radiant in His light
he awakens as the Beloved
in every last part of our body.

With Hearts Broken Days 286-287

With Hearts Broken

Spirit of Life, Source of all,
to this beautiful place
to this hallowed time
and in the midst of this kindred company
we bring hearts broken yet again by senseless violence.

This morning our thoughts are with
all those in Israel, Palestine and beyond
who have been touched by terrorism,
and the millions of refugees
who have to risk everything to flee this kind of violence.

We hold in our hearts
leaders in every nation who are struggling
to discern how to respond to this crisis
and the ever-present reality of terrorism that led to it,
and the millions of peaceful Jewish and Muslim faithful
who will suffer yet more prejudice,
yet more hate, yet more misunderstanding
because of the actions of violent fundamentalists.

We hold in prayer a world wherein such awful terror has become the new normal,
a world of people whose hearts are in danger of growing numb.

In such times as these it can be hard to find where our gratitude,
where our joy, where our serenity might have fled.
And yet nurturing these three—gratitude, joy, and serenity—is the most powerful resistance we have against terror.

So this morning, we choose to see the goodness in a world fraught also by evil,
we refuse to allow anger and fear to barricade themselves within us,
and we make time and space in our lives and in our hearts to count our blessings and give thanks.

We give thanks,
for kindnesses, big and small, when we least expect them,
for the coming of the autumn and winter holidays,
and for the endless opportunities’ life gives us to share our blessings, our wealth, our skills and passions with the world.

Lead us, Great Spirit of Love,
into lives of deeper gratitude,
deeper compassion,
deeper mercy,
deeper peace.

Fill our hearts with a thirst for justice,
a hunger for righteousness,
and help us be those in, with, and through whom
our world is transformed
into the one we hope and pray and dream for.

These and all things we pray for love’s sake.
Amen.
 

Adapted Prayer by Kristen Grassel Schmidt

Offered by Liz Sorensen Wessel
Candles by ~liz

 

Relics: Letters to the Future - Days 281-285

   It is just an ancient ID Badge, circa 1994. In the tiny constellation of my family, it has meaning because we treasure symbols of memory. This was preserved by my dear wife. 

   Most discard or dismiss family relics. Many career successors do the same with legacies. Too bad. Relics release memories. Legacies transform those who honor them. 

   The "P" triangle on my old badge stands for "Partners," the word we used to describe all caregiving colleagues (versus "employees" or "associates.")

   The pin adjoining it is a ten year service award. The "Life Choices" logo honors our T.V. show that was international, not just local.

   Below Riverside Hospitals (plural to signal the goal that all hospitals would practice the "RMH Way") is "A U.S. Health affiliate." My successor changed it to OhioHealth. I hoped we would become nationally honored for loving caregiving just as we became known by millions via our televised health message. That remains possible using the existing structure. 

   My ID title of CEO leaves out "President." I awarded that to Nancy Schlicting. The tiny words at bottom remain OhioHealth's value statement: "We honor the dignity and worth of each person."  

   No trivia says what the badge truly means. When I hold it I feel the presence of thousands of partners and hundreds of thousands of patients, families and community members whose lives we Partners touched from 1983-1995.

   That, for me, converts the old badge into a sacred family relic. A letter carrying a million memories and some legacies as well. 

-Erie Chapman

Announcing New Associate Editor Liz Wessel - Days 276-280

   Liz Wessel, R.N., M.S.N., is the newly named Associate Editor of Journal of Sacred Work. Not only is our selection long overdue, but she is completely perfect for the role of associate editor. She has been our weekend writer since shortly after our founding in June, 2006 and has been a spectacular supporter of the entire concept that underscores our mission: To offer loving care and support to caregivers. 

   We are both volunteers, (along with another key contributor, Dr. Terry Chapman) and yet Liz's contributions have been worth millions to the tens of thousands of caregivers who have come here for support and information. This includes her magnificent artwork as well as her elegant writing and many other contributions.

  Liz is Chief Mission Officer, Providence St Joseph Health Home & Community Care in the Southern California Region located in Orange, California. She is also a long-serving nurse with special expertise in palliative and hospice care. 

   The distance from Nashville to Orange is such that Liz and I have rarely seen each other in person across all these years. But we have always been very close spiritually and are dear friends. 

   It is my hope that the foundation that supports and advances Radical Loving Care^® in healthcare and the arts will make Liz permanent editor at some moment down the road. Meanwhile, please join me in expressing profound gratitude to Liz for her heart, for how she supports you, and for being one of God's great gifts to this earth. 

-Erie Chapman 

The Feast Day of St. Francis of Assisi Days 272-273

October 4th is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of ecology and beloved by many. I offer this reflection in his honor.

The story of St Francis embracing the leper is one that posed a challenge for Francis and offers many parallels to the challenges of our times. 

In Assisi during Francis’s life, leprosy was a terrible plight for those afflicted with the disease. They were excluded from society and banished beyond the city limits and were viewed as untouchables to be avoided and shunned. As a young man, Francis feared and was repulsed by people with this disease.

However, one day when travelling he encountered a person with leprosy on the side of the road in need of assistance. Francis first inclination was to turn away, yet something about the man moved him and he felt compelled to get down off his horse and then he reached out to embrace the man. In that moment he experienced a profound opening of his heart. Instead of seeing an outcast he saw the light of Christ gazing back at him. This experience awakened Francis to follow a limitless call to love and to be of service to others.

Caregivers move towards those who suffer rather than turning away. I hold you in the highest esteem and I thank you for giving your hearts to service with your skills, expertise, and kind spirits and to accompany people in their time of need. Thank you for the many ways you live love and help to ease the way for others.  

With deep gratitude,

Liz Sorensen Wessel
Photo Source: The Franciscan Spirit Blog

"I Own Everything I See" - Days 267-271

 The title quote is from my saintly, mother-in-law, Marian Lokvam.* As a hyper-visual "see-er" that line became a favorite. I did not have to own a field of flowers to smell them or a car to enjoy riding in it. 

  Is seeing enough or do we have to "own"? When we own, what do we have actually have?

   The power in Marian's comment arises when we ask more deeply: What do we own? And its companion suggestion that maybe we never really own anything or anyone; that the very idea of "pride of ownership" triggers murders, wars and personal agony.

   Look at our ownership language: My house. My car. My job.

   Of people: My wife. My children. My sister. My friends.

   What happened to "my" mother, you first-borns, when the your sibling arrived?

   In a hospital, "My nurses" sounds different depending on whether it is spoken by a nursing director or a patient. 

   When I disagree with a doctor's recommendation I am always surprised when they say, "Well. It's your body." Were they subconsciously thinking my body was theirs?

   Why did the feminist movement gain traction with the phrase "It's My Body"? Because my fellow males so often abused women's rights that consciousness needed to be raised and laws changed. 

   Ownership requires at least two adjectives: "privilege and permission." I never really owned any "thing" or "person."  I was simply granted privileges and permissions for some period. 

   So long as I thought too literally that Tyler and Tia were MY children, their successes and failures became "mine." Marian's enlightened "owning-by-seeing" frees up healthier relationships. It sends jus again, and always for the first time, to Kahlil Gibran's oft-stated and rarely followed wisdom, quoted in part: 

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you... 

-Erie Chapman

P.S. Since writing this a thief named Covid stole "my" sense of smell and should return it, right?

Photo: Marian Lokvam, at right, helping Kirsten on our wedding day - 1966