Introduction: Why I Focus on Loss & Grief?

I was born into a family blessed with longevity.  I joke for one of us to die before 80 we need to be murdered.  I had all four grandparents when I was 32.  Some relatives have lived past 100.  I lost some great aunts and uncles when I was young but no one I was close to me.  With no experience with Death when I first encountered it as a young adult I had no idea how to behave or what was expected of me.  I thought I understood all that I felt but I barely allowed myself to touch the surface. 

When I finally lost a friend while in college I found grief surprisingly painful and awkward. I did what I was raised to do - be a strong women who kept moving, caring for others and not dwelling (outwardly) on what hurt.  

Years later in my professional training I was required to participate in a program that teaches ministers and seminarians how to provide Pastoral Care, the art of ministry in which clergy abide with those who are enduring some of the most painful moments of life, and sometimes death. The training was designed to help each student know themselves well enough  that they can either use themselves or get out of their own way when caring for others. Usually not the favorite aspect of clergy training due to the requirement to be so deeply and openly in touch with one’s feelings.

During my ten week training program I was assigned to a Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and a Pediatric Trauma Team. I was absolutely sure that they were either joking or had made some horrible mistake. Yet, once I accepted and jumped into my assignments I learned not only skills for ministry but for life.  

On the fifth day of my training as I entered the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit I tried very hard to avoid one bed. In it was a five month old baby I had learned about in morning report. She came into the hospital the night before with a head injury, many old and new broken bones, cigarette burns all over her body, bruises the shape of the teeth that bit her arms and legs. She had been both physically and sexually abused.  In other words for her very short life she knew abuse, torture and pain that most of us avoid our entire lives.

I was positive I would have nothing to offer this baby for comfort because I was sure she would recoil from any touch or interaction. I was also unsure I had the courage and strength it would take to be with her.  Her nurse who insisted that I come to her bed and help. She only needed me to sit and this hold this baby while she cared for her other patient. The nurse hoped that physical contact might help to calm this little one. I was not so sure.  

Ultimately I did as I was told. I sat down in a rocker. The nurse put several layers of blankets in my arms so the baby would rest in softness. Then she placed this damaged baby in my arms.  In about 30 seconds that adorable, scarred tiny one snuggled against me and fell sound asleep. In her sleep she looked so relaxed and comfortable. But, how could that be? For her five months she knew cruel physical abuse at worst and at best, neglect. How could she know who would treat her with kindness and warmth?  No one had loved her or protected her or kept her safe before. Yet, there she was in my arms relaxed, pressing herself against me as if she could sense that she was safe.  She was beautiful.  I stopped noticing the bruises and scars. She looked so delicate and peaceful, and…trusting.

I was in awe of her spirit, human spirit. How could she know to respond to care and warmth?  At that very moment I knew beyond all doubt that I would spend my years in ministry and life with those whose lives have been torn apart by Loss and whose entire beings are in pain because of their Grief. I believe it is when we are most human, most vulnerable, most in need of support and care, and least likely to find it in our society. That was 21 years ago.  And, I have never looked back nor regretted one moment.