Journal of Sacred Work

Caregivers have superpowers! Radical Loving Care illuminates the divine truth that caregiving is not just a job. It is Sacred Work.

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Former President & CEO of multiple hospital systems and founding president & CEO of 20-hospital OhioHealth, best selling author, film artist, ordained minister, composer, published poet, syndicated T.V. host, trial attorney, federal prosecutor and Municipal Court Judge. Erie is internationally known as the founder of the Radical Loving Care(R)movement. He also heads Erie Chapman Foundation, Dane Dakota Productions, LLC, and Chapman Health International, Inc.

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Day 27 – A Rich Darkness

January 27, 2009

You can't study the darkness by flooding it with light. – Edward Abbey

   After sixteen years of marriage her husband died of cancer. A few years later, she was diagnosed with cancer herself. What can be rich about this kind of darkness? My friend found a wealth of wisdom in her tragedies. Yet, another dark night awaited her when she was diagnosed with a "likely cancer" elsewhere in her body. Acting quickly, perhaps, as she says now, too quickly, she had the supposedly diseased gland removed only to find that it was cancer free.

   Today, the phrase "rich darkness" resonates with my friend. As a chaplain, she counsels the sick. Her agonizing personal experiences enable her to be a healing presence to others who are suffering.
   Perhaps most important, this chaplain understands the eloquence of wordless presence. Agony, after all, defies words just as surely as does joy. When we are drowning in the loneliness of our own suffering, it doesn't help for someone to try and flood that darkness with light. The light will come to us, if at all, through the love and compassion of someone who is caring enough to simply be near.
   It is not always wise to try and force someone too quickly out of the dark chapter of their life journey. Darkness can teach so much. It may be there that we find our greatest strength. If we yank someone too quickly from trouble, they may founder when darkness returns at a later time.
   This weekend, I saw two films about people who encounter darkness. The films, both of which I strongly recommend, are Revolutionary Road (with Kate Winslet, above) and Slumdog Millionaire. In one film, the hero escapes the dark, in the other, the hero does not. If you see the films, I'd be interested to know which film experience informed you more about your life of caregiving. All good art informs caregiving. These two film experiences offer us the chance to experience darkness from the safety of a movie theater. Those who chose to treat their film encounters as sacred will find that both of these movies are powerful for caregivers.
   Meanwhile, the ones who learn the most from their suffering and become the best caregivers are people like my friend, the hospital chaplain, who faced her darkness and now is an angel of light for others.

What are your feelings?

-Erie Chapman

Posted in Meditations

6 responses to “Day 27 – A Rich Darkness”

Jerald Smith

January 27, 2009

In what we Christians call the Old Testament and our Jewish friend call the Torah, we find a scripture that has personal resonance for me. It describes “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” (Is. 53:3)Exploring our darkness, our grief, our pain, rather than running from it is the path to wholeness…and to being of any help to anyone else so stricken.Thank you for this post. By the way, I might also suggest Gran Torino as a great movie for care givers to see.

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~liz Wessel

January 27, 2009

Thanks for all the film recommendations I will look forward to seeing them!
It seems to me you can’t rush grief; grief has a life of her own and the very best we can do is treat her as a welcomed guest in dire need of a listening friend. We need to offer her a big comfortable chair where she can put her feet up to rest, give her a warm blanket, and a hot cup of tea. It is very helpful to approach her with a quiet unimposing presence and to notice her cues for quiet time or intimacy. Treat her with dignity, honor and reverence her by recognizing the necessity of her visits. Gradually, with this kind of Loving acknowledgement her need to visit you will lessen as she heals and reengages with life. Or as Jerald said, returns to wholeness.
Too often, we are uncomfortable with our feelings and we don’t want them around. We push them away, stuff them under the bed or in a closet, neglect them, treat them as stranger and refuse to acknowledge them. For me, the lesson to learn is to Love my feelings as a precious part of who I am and to offer gracious hospitality and unconditional acceptance.

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Diana Gallaher

January 27, 2009

I spent time today with my mother at the doctor. When the nurse asked her to rate her pain on a scale of 1-10, my first thought was, “Tell her it isn’t so bad today.” Our eyes met and then I thought, “Tell her the truth. Even if we don’t like it.”
I visit a man in prison. I often think of it as sitting and waiting with him in the darkness. There is no yanking him out of the darkness.
Somehow, the dark and the light are part of one another. There is wisdom in not retreating from either. I too need to learn to love my feelings.

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Rachelle Yeates

January 27, 2009

In times of darkness, I recall a poem by Robert Frost, who writes:
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain –and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I don’t know the history of this poem, but in times of saddness it gives me great consolation. As you’ve said, from darkness comes light.

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Victoria Facey

January 27, 2009

Erie, I totally agree with you on the lessons learned from suffering and how they can make you a better person / caregiver.
Unfortunately there are those who are so unraveled by trauma or a sad situation that they miss the opportunity to look back at the incident and learn from it. I feel you are a better person when you use these experiences as tools in moving forward. While sometimes humbling and nerve rattling, I see a message in our encounters. We are wiser when we take notice and caution if something similar happens down the road.

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Edwin Loftin

January 27, 2009

Thank you.

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