A Chaplain Saved my Life
This is a pretty intense story that has its roots in my writing meditation practice. And because many of us are living intense lives I offer it here.
I experienced a synchronicity recently that left me gasping with joy (and a few tears of course.)
I was attending the annual Moms Demand Action Advocacy Day, when a large group of us who advocate for common sense gun laws, went to the Statehouse to meet with legislators. We were divided into groups based on our districts and I met a delightful woman named Alethea, who I eventually learned is a chaplain at Nationwide Children’s Hospital.
Let me go back a few months to tell you why meeting her was so important. This year in meditation, I am being given assignments. Some part of me really knows that I will not live forever. There are things I have been thinking about doing for years, and now my deepest heart is telling me what to do to stay in alignment with my values and goals. Take the time, clean your desk. (OK that is really funny because if you have seen my desk it is always full. Still, that is what came out so I’ll stick with it.)
One of the people that I have thought about over the years is the chaplain at Nationwide Children’s hospital who sat with me, weekly, for a year after my first and second daughters died there. I have thanked her in my heart but have never fully thanked her in person. Read the poem that follows to see why.
For weeks I knew I would call the Chaplain’s office at the hospital and finally, I did. I spoke to someone there and told her I was looking for a chaplain from 40 years ago. She was very gracious and did not flinch from my request after I gave her a few details. She told me there had to be records and would get back to me. First step toward completing my meditation assignment and I was overjoyed.
Then I got to thinking about the chaplains that are there now. They probably were working with folks like me all the time. If I couldn’t find my original chaplain, I decided to write to the department and tell them of my gratitude. Perhaps someone there needed a thank you, needed to know what they were doing was important. When I sat down to write the letter during my meditation time, it came out as a poem.
I have still not heard back from the office, but I met Alethea, and it felt like a connection from the Universe. She said, “Send the poem to me and I’ll make sure everyone sees it.” So I did. My heart feels full and complete with this assignment.
A Chaplain Saved My Life
Two daughters dead
In 2 years.
I was nearly dead too.
Desperate, hopeless pain
What would I do?
How could I go on without them?
I was not OK, though after the first one died, I pretended that I was.
Now, all pretenses gone,
The full truth of my grief burning through me.
Each week,
In the hospital where my girls both died,
I went to the chaplain’s office (for free, thank God!)
And wept and yelled and was miserable and broken-hearted.
Maybe just broken.
It was the only place in my life I could be as desperate as I was.
No hiding, no pretending,
Just my purely miserable self.
A year of weekly appointments.
The part of me that had always taken care of others first,
did not come into this room with us.
I let the chaplain take care of herself, which I hope she knew how to do, because I know
I was hard.
She never once gave me advice.
She never once told me it would be better.
She never once told me I had an angel in heaven.
She only did what I needed her to do, which was
to listen. To be another human
witnessing the impossible yet true pain I was experiencing.
Over time, I wanted to show her something of relief, but there wasn’t any.
I wanted to be cheerful sometimes, just so she would know I was getting better,
But I couldn’t because I wasn’t.
Or maybe I was, but there was no way it could show yet.
One day, for no particular reason, the cloud of grief lifted some,
and color came back into my life.
I hadn’t known I was living in black and grey until the color returned.
I felt lighter and less miserable.
I was still aching with loss, and
in a moment
the rest of my life came back to me,.
I was excited to go to my appointment that week.
I wanted to show this generous, compassionate woman
that all these sessions had helped me.
She wasn’t there that day.
She had left for another job.
I never saw her or heard anything about her again.
She never got to see the results of all those hours of listening to the pain being felt and spoken into that little room.
For over 40 years I have blessed this woman from my heart.
My gratitude for her runs deeper than I can say.
I sometimes wonder if she took another job to get away from me.
It doesn’t matter. She moved on to help others I’m sure and
I know she saved my life.
And in memory of Katherine Miller (known in NCH as Baby Girl Miller) 2/25/1982-2/28/1982 19 and Adriane Timberman Miller 6/22/83 -8/19/1983
