The French writer and philosopher Albert Camus once wrote, “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.” For those who are grieving the loss of a loved one, especially as winter and the holiday season approaches, it can be challenging to find that “invincible summer” through one’s anguish and tears. When burdened with sadness and pain, how do we find that which comforts and calms us? I believe the foundation of the resilience of which Camus writes is hope.
One of the highlights of my career as a Massage Therapist and member of JourneyCare's Integrative Therapies team was also the most challenging of all. My husband and love of my life, Peter, was the patient, unfortunately, at the young age of 64. It tested all my strength, boundaries, love and belief in God and this world.
Peter inspired me to become a massage therapist and always supported and loved therapeutic massages, which he always insisted I do to practice on him (in the beginning) and then after that because it helped him so much.
I like to talk. I talk a lot. Many of my coworkers know this already. Sometimes I talk because I have something to say. Sometimes I talk to fill space and silence.
I like to listen. I listen a lot. I love to listen to the stories and the memories I am privileged to hear from patients, families, facility staff, caregivers, and my coworkers. Hopefully my coworkers would tell you I listen too. Hopefully.
What happens when there isn’t much to say? What happens when words fail us or simply cannot adequately express what is happening or what someone is feeling? And, if no one’s saying anything, what is there to listen to? This is a time for presence.
During this Pastoral Care Week, I would like to celebrate the chaplains at JourneyCare and around the world for all the care that you provide to people and families in the various ways you serve. As I reflect on my own pastoral care journey, I am appreciative of the profession I feel called to do.
What do I love about hospice care? I love that it is not specifically focused on death, but on the life of the patient. As a chaplain, this has afforded me the opportunity to hear each patient's life journey. It is in this sharing that I have gained the opportunity to celebrate patients’ lives in the present. Listening to the patients and their families allows their life experiences to be honored. It also has allowed me the opportunity to hear how their lives connect the past, present and their desires in their final months and days. These stories have really influenced my calling as a chaplain.