Gifts from the Frontlines...
For those who show up...however they can for love
An eclipsing moon in the East greeted me when opening my door to the still dark day. Before early morning chores (before I fed my two cats—Smith and Wesson, before even coffee…), I saw, but did not know, if the show was almost done or just beginning. However, I knew with a different part of me that it was to be spectacular.
This is the oh-so-human way of discerning: head and heart. These days, as a hospice chaplain, and caregiver to caregivers, I listen more carefully now.
The eclipsing heart is unbalanced... (read more...click below)
Like a clueless Dorothy in the land of Oz, I found myself caregiving...
I was stuck there, having misplaced any wizard who might have gotten me back to my old life in San Francisco. I didn't like it; it was not part of my plans.
In that stuckness, I also chose to show up for my infirm loved one.
I argued with gravity for several years. I didn't win...
I tried to do them both—caregiving and the job. Like 44 million of us out there (in the USA alone), multi-tasking two lives. I didn't do either particularly well.
The Kaiser palliative RN symposium where I was speaking about resilience for pro caregivers...and my book...was easy (and went quite well) once I stopped reading my notes and spoke from my heart. I don't know how many times I need to learn this lesson—speaking with people, not at them.
It is so easy at bedside in hospice (or supporting my bereaved) to still my noisy mind, listen deeply and respond from that place...or let the space be empty. In good design, they call it "white space".
But... it feels so different when sixty-five palliative nurses are watching you, waiting for my amplified words to fill the gap between us—my words.
Oddly, it's not. As a chaplain and a woman of (growing all the time) faith, I agree with the radical French Jesuit theologian, paleontologist and geologist, Teilhard de Chardin, when he said:
"We are spiritual beings, having a human experience."
If that is true (and I have ample life, bedside and death bed evidence of this), then there is just one of us here, or at minimum we are nuclear family. My point about speaking up (and speeches) is that we are all among family—all the time.
Sweet, right? (And, it's a better tactic than imagining all of you/us naked...)
I am preparing a collaborative series of presentations around my new book and working with a dear friend to accomplish it. It is great (chaplain) fun to find common ground between the sacred wisdoms and with the highly actionable nature of neuroscience research.
Heart and head are powerful partners which change the planet...and certainly our lives.
This day long symposium is on resiliency in nursing.
These beautiful professional caregivers experience much of the same stress symptoms as their unpaid sisters and brothers on the front lines of love. But the opportunity to work with a true friend when doing this work (that matters...) is an exceptional thing.
My father was a wise man: John W. Hager
He is gone from this earth and has been for decades, but his words are alive in me. His saying about the quantity (of friends) that make one's life rich, flies in the social media's face. As a new author, I am validated by how many people sign up for messages from me (...and by all means, please sign up). Having said that, however, the magnitude of a nearby friend, one that shows up with treats when they hear a twitch in your best "I'm fine" survival voice, is measured on an earthquake scale.
The 4.8 earthquake (which woke me up last night) is felt by all. But only one more richter point and it is feared by all.
A true friend is a wonder...they gently turn post-traumatic-stress from disorder to order...and growth.
(or maybe even some fun.)