
The key moment happened at 7:56 a.m., July 28, 1968. Down the hallway from this moment, I lay back, eyes closed, catching a little rest after being with my wife all night in the hospital. I was alone. It was a time (at least in Toledo, Ohio) before doctors allowed fathers into the delivery room.
Nurse’s shoes brushed the floor to my left, soft as an Indian stalking game. The next sentence I heard will always endure in my memory: "Mr. Chapman, would you like to meet your son?"
As you read this story, you must have instantly thought back to your own, initial sacred encounters. Perhaps the first time you saw your spouse or your newborn; your first kiss, the first time you met someone who is now your best friend.
What’s striking is that I feel confident that the caregiver who held my son that bright Sunday morning in 1968 had a very different experience than did I. Although the nurse was very nice, I doubt that this was a sacred moment for her. She was a witness to a father’s encounter with a special being (above left) who turns forty today. But she must have been present for hundreds of such encounters. How could each of them be sacred? And yet, they can.
Moments of birth and death, suffering and joy always hold the potential to be sacred for caregivers who choose loving presence.
What I could not see in 1968, I have seen since that day: thousands of special moments with the only person in the world I can call my son. He is a special and sacred being – even more special to me today than when we encountered each other for the first time. I not only love him. I am grateful for the fact that he is such a kind, loving and gifted human being who is now, himself, a father who was able to celebrate his own first encounter with his son at the moment of his son’s birth.
What we learn from any sacred encounter is how to live any moment in a sacred way. What is it about your first encounters that made them special and how does this help you as a caregiver?
-Erie Chapman
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