Tag Archives: compassion

Caring for God’s Creatures

11 Wednesday May 2022

Posted by in animal protection

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 God made all sorts of wild animals, livestock, and small animals, each able to produce offspring of the same kind. And God saw that it was good. –Genesis 1:25 (NLT)

I love that last part: God saw that His creation was good. Simply put, He loved them. And, it has never been lost on me that God created animals before He created man and woman. His word tells us that He gave responsibility for the animals to those He created in His own image. (Genesis 1:26) Ponder on that a bit. If we were created in God’s image then we have a clear direction for how we are to treat others — and that includes animals.

I have a cousin who is a rescuer of cats with special needs. Some come to her lame, blind, sick from infections, horribly ridden with fleas, and many are traumatized by abuse. These little creations of God are found abandoned, even thrown in trash containers. It’s heartbreaking. But the happy part is seeing how Jeanie and a caring cat clinic rally to make most of them well and give them a chance at life.

Some time back, I volunteered at our local Humane Society. The Humane Society operates no-kill shelters. Every effort is given to providing a safe haven for dogs and cats. Hopefully, most will be adopted out to good homes. You will never see them euthanized unless there is absolutely no quality of life left for the animal. Let me give you an example I saw firsthand.

Tabitha, a cat thought to be eight or nine months old, came to the shelter pregnant. She was far too young (small) to carry what turned out to be a litter of seven. But Tabitha did it, delivering all seven alive and healthy. However, there were two kittens that had badly deformed back legs, most likely from their crowded quarters. Their tiny legs looked as if they had been put on backward; they bent in the wrong direction. 

I was at the shelter just hours after Tabitha delivered and found a small crowd gathered around mom and babies.  Laura, the cat adoption manager, pleaded the case for these new babies. She was imagining all sorts of ways their crippled legs might be helped. It was decided by one of the vet techs to try tiny leg splints. She whittled away at a tongue depressor until she had splints about the width of a toothpick and half its length. She wasn’t all that hopeful the splints would work, but willing to give it her best shot. 

 For six weeks, Tabitha and all seven kittens lived in Laura’s office. The two in splints required close watch and frequent changing of the splints to maintain cleanliness; the others were kept there to lend family love and support. 

It was an ideal outcome: After six weeks in splints, the kittens’ legs were corrected to normal shape and without one bit of evidence that there had ever been a problem. Those little babies, named Sara and Foster, learned to walk while in the splints and were ready for foster care at eight weeks, along with the rest of the litter. 

That was just one of many miracle stories I saw there. It was a sheer joy to know that individuals were living out God’s direction to be responsible in the fullest sense. I think people like this really make God smile.

The Humane Society carefully investigates those who seek to adopt. You don’t just walk in and walk out with a cat or dog. If approved for adoption and for any reason it doesn’t work out in the home, the cats and dogs are always welcome back to the HS. In fact, part of the adoption process is to sign an agreement that you will return your adopted cat or dog if for any reason you can’t keep it. Once a rescue of the Humane Society, an animal is never again without a place to call home.  

It is the same kind of process for my cousin Jeanie’s rescue site. Those who care so tenderly for helpless animals don’t want to have them traumatized all over again through lack of care or abandonment.

If you have animals, treat them well. God gave us that charge at the beginning of time. If you are looking for volunteer opportunities, think about a local animal shelter. Finally, consider making a charitable contribution to a rescue site. Be reminded that God cares for people and animals alike (Psalms 36:6 NLT).

 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. — Colossians 3:12 (NIV)

I adopted Chloe while volunteering at the Humane Society. It was one of my best decisions.

Perspective on Life from Hospital Days

24 Thursday Mar 2022

Posted by in healthcare stories

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Hospitals know a lot of heartaches. An illness brings someone in, but that person comes with all their problems and they should never be under-estimated in their journey of healing. During my years as a patient advocate, I came to know a lot of wonderful people and a lot of their heartaches.

The very first patient I ever dealt with was a teenager battling a rare disease. It wasn’t thought he would recover, but he did. After being home a while and getting back on his feet, he fell in with a wrong group and was killed as a result of association. When his dad came to tell me, I found it hard to take in. This young man who had won the battle of disease, only to have his life end in senseless tragedy – how could it be? How did his parents manage their grief so soon after being on a mountaintop of joy?

There was an elderly woman who was with us one December and it was uncertain as to whether she would be staying through Christmas Day. Most patients wanted badly to be out and home for Christmas, but this dear lady preferred staying. She said she would rather be in a hospital with people around her than go home and be alone.

I think about another elderly and gentle woman. She confided in a nurse that she knew her children were taking things from her house while she was hospitalized. They were using her absence and access to her house keys to take what they wanted. How can children do that? Social Service was called, but intervention didn’t take away the sadness of such abuse nor the pain that mother’s heart knew.

There was a delightful man who did his best to make every day positive in some way, all the while knowing he was dying and would probably not leave the hospital. He called for his grandchildren to come so that he could talk to them about how needless his early death was, that he was dying because he had abused his body, and wanted to impress upon them their opportunity to live life better. He gave his speech and then went back to bringing laughter into the room. What a brave individual!

I recall the many families who were torn apart by end-of-life decisions. Spouses and children couldn’t agree on when it was time to let their loved one go, even when the patient had made personal wishes clear to the family. Sometimes it was a spouse who held on, other times it was the children. Before the day of the Patient Self-Determination Act that gave us the Living Will and Durable Power of Attorney, it could be an especially tough issue to resolve. Just when families needed to pull together, impending death often brought family discord and added anguish.

There was a very loving wife who delayed bringing in her husband’s Living Will because she wasn’t ready to give him up. They had been married more than 50 years and she thought she would rather take him home and care for him like an infant rather than lose him forever. After taking some time to work it through – weighing what she knew he wanted against her heartache in giving him up – she did eventually bring in his Living Will. Decisions in the midst of grief are always the hardest to make.

I think about the nurses who cried when babies would not live outside their mothers’ wombs and how they consoled those empty-armed mothers. And I remember the doctors who gave the extra measure of hope to their patients while battling extremely tough medical cases. There were pharmacists who spent time explaining a medicine or apologizing for delays and confusion when the fault wasn’t theirs, kitchen staff that made special surprises for those who needed an emotional boost, chaplains who counseled with family members in despair and prayed with patients over their fear and confusion.

One caregiver that really touched my heart was a physical therapist who was an expert at building bridges with patients with her sense of humor. I remember a family support meeting in our rehab area where we all sat around a table with the patient and caregivers explained to his family the patient’s progress. The stroke victim was expressionless until it came the physical therapist’s turn to speak. Ellen jumped right in, applying her good-humored teasing directly to the patient, and speaking much more frankly than any of the others. She told this patient he wasn’t doing all she knew he could do and she didn’t soft pedal it. Was he offended? Oh, no. His face just lit up with joy. For the first time in the meeting, he participated to the degree he was able. His therapist had made a heart contact when she worked with him; he knew she saw him as a unique individual and not just another patient recovering from a stroke. It was a beautiful moment.

A hospital is a microcosm of society. My point in reflecting on what I learned there is this: what I saw in a smaller setting is what we have all around us. Wherever we work or live, there are hurting people. Life is filled with opportunities to help someone along the way. By realizing that we walk amidst suffering, we can be more kindly observant and less judgmental, more giving and less self-centered. We can choose to not have as one of our biggest regrets someday, the things we had a chance to do for someone else and didn’t.

There is not one single person anywhere who doesn’t appreciate a little extra kindness, some measure of caring. Often the tiniest efforts mean the most. The degree of appreciation usually lies in the size of the hole in the heart – and that, only the hurting one knows.

Pat Rowland is retired from Methodist Healthcare in Memphis, Tennessee, where she was Corporate Director of Patient Affairs.

Commercial Appeal, December 2012

Dr. Emory House

06 Tuesday Aug 2019

Posted by in hospital stories

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Every hospital has a code they use over the intercom when calling a CPR team to a patient or visitor who has stopped breathing or whose heart has stopped beating.  The Methodist Hospital code was (and I believe still is) ‘Dr. Emory House.’ On occasion, I sat with family members while a patient was being resuscitated, so I knew a little of what it was like for those who could do nothing but wait and pray. What I didn’t know was what went on in the minds and hearts of those who responded to the call for Dr. Emory House. So I asked. I thought you might find interesting what a nurse and physician told me. 

The Nurse’s Statement:

As I am on my way to the area given, I always wonder if it’s a patient or visitor. Once I’m there, I feel out the situation, look to see who is doing what and how fast everything is moving. I tend to get lost in the situation, removing myself from the person and concentrating on the disease. It is only at the time of outcome, that the individual becomes a person again.

If the patient dies, I review mentally all that was done. Did I make an impact on the outcome? I step it through, giving it an overall look.

If the patient survives, and my feelings were that the patient should not have been coded, I have trouble dealing with this personally and morally. I feel I prolonged death rather than extended life.

I always debrief with someone to get rid of the emotional impact it has on me. I think all nurses are careful about doing this. It’s important to talk it out.

After an Emory House, I need reaffirmation that I am still alive – a hug or just some touch. This is especially so if the patient is a young person. I need to feel all the feelings you experience when you are alive.

The good comes when crisis intervention has only positives. The patient makes it and is restored to quality life. I feel I’ve been put on this earth for a purpose and possibly this is one of the ways I fulfill that purpose.

The Doctor’s Statement:

Explaining my thoughts to the code goes back to when I was 13 and my father died. He was ‘re-sussed’ at home and didn’t make it.

As an intern, not yet skilled to participate, I felt a lot of emotion when I witnessed resuscitation. I was medically detached and emotionally attached. Then as a resident, that detachment reversed itself. The medical point is so intense, you much detach emotionally.

When you are coding a patient, you don’t look at the face; you just go by the book. My heart usually races as I think how important it is not to make a mistake. I’m aware eyes are on me to direct the resuscitation. You have to know when to stop, and that’s very hard.

As a private physician, you get pulled back in emotionally. When an Emory House is called on your patient, you think of all you know about that person. You wonder what happened in the last 24 hours. Did I fail to do something?

No one teaches doctors how to tell the family when the patient doesn’t make it. This is probably the most difficult part for me. I learned from watching an extremely compassionate doctor. He showed me the importance of touch and speaking softly.

There’s such a feeling of emptiness when it’s all over. I don’t usually react emotionally, but one night after an unsuccessful Emory House, I went home to watch television. There was a scene where someone was coded and he didn’t make it. I cried.

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These interviews took place thirty years ago, however I suspect little would differ if these same interviews happened today. I’m sure many of you have prayed for doctors and nurses when you or loved ones have been sick – for their knowledge and skills. But have you ever thought to pray for their protection and healing? They need those prayers, too.

 

What the Heart Sees

05 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by in adoption

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timmy in hatOn June 29, this young man celebrated his official Adoption Day and became Timothy William Evans, the son of Mike and Melanie Evans. As Melanie puts it, he was knit in his mother’s womb and yet placed in our hearts.

Eight-year-old Timothy was the third child to be adopted by the Evans and the second with special needs. They also have two biological children with special needs. God has fashioned some people with hearts that are extra deep with compassion and Mike and Melanie are two of those people.

In all, Mike and Melanie have eight children. Andrew is their oldest and the first adopted. Jeremy, their first biological child, came next. Savannah, Ethan, and Mariah are triplets. Due to cerebral palsy, Ethan needs a wheelchair for mobility. Mariah cannot talk or walk. Forever, adopted five years ago and destined to live out her life in an orphanage, has frequent and severe seizures that so far medical treatment has not helped. The youngest member of the Evans Eight is Christian, born last year.

Timmy has Down syndrome, autism, and is non-verbal most of the time. He is pretty good with sign language and will sometimes use his voice, but on rare occasions. What I see with Timmy is how his heart speaks, how it plays out through his expressions. (If you click on the pictures below, there will be captions of each situation.)

 

After being asked if he was happy to officially be an Evans now.
An excited little boy at his party
Timmy and his biological brother LaMarcus who began raising Timmy when he was still a child himself. There were seven siblings in all and they lost a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother in two years time.

I have a personal connection with the Evans family that goes back about 10 years and I’ve loved watching how they nurture and seek the best for each of their children. Yes, they have people to assist them, but the bottom line is Melanie and Mike are responsible for their care and quality of life 24/7. I would love to tell you more about each of these children, but this is about Timmy, so let me get back to him.

Timmy and Mike

Mike holding Timothy on adoption day.

I am particularly drawn to this picture of Timmy being held in his white father’s arms. It is the same security I saw in the face of Forever, also African-American, when she was chosen by the Evans. It underscores what I learned from my years of working with mentally challenged people: they do not see color. They see deeper, into the very heart, I believe.

Sundays mean church for the Evans family and Timmy was there with his family two days after adoption. Melanie said Timothy reached one arm high and with palm outstretched wide, spontaneously started worshiping. He had not seen someone else doing it; in fact, it isn’t commonplace in their church. Doesn’t that show you the very real connection he has with his Creator? Do you see that he knows what has happened for him? He is a little boy with major disabilities, but his heart is sound and full of purpose. God has a plan for Timothy just like He does for each of us.

Melanie has this quote about adoption on her Facebook page and it sums up how she and Mike see it:  “Adoption is not the call to have the perfect rosy family. It is the call to give love, mercy, and patience.”

Timothy, I’m so grateful the Evans found and chose you. You hit the jackpot of families who see and love with the heart.  Happy life, Timmy!

 

All the Evans children

 

_____________

My blog, Meet “Maddie and Wilda,” October 2017, features Melanie’s mom, Wilda Lahmann. Both Mike and Melanie grew up in homes where fostering and unconditional love were modeled for them.

Pecan Waffle with a Side of Kindness

04 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by in kindness

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I’ve had some serious issues with my eyes since July and have been seen several times a month by an eye specialist for close watch and treatment. A few days ago, returning home from an appointment that went especially well, I felt a little celebrating was in order. The day was cold and damp and a pecan waffle and cup of coffee seemed perfect.

For a pecan waffle, I needed a Waffle House, and though I would pass two on my way home, I felt I was to go to one in particular. I couldn’t make sense of it, but it was as if some happy little experience awaited me there.  

They weren’t busy at 2 in the afternoon, so I had picking choice of where to sit and I slid into a booth near where the food was being prepared. A waitress quickly appeared and said, “This is not my station, but I can get you some coffee until Doris can get here.” Soon, Doris came and asked for my order. “Pecan waffle,” I said. She nodded, turned, and repeated the order to the cook. Then, turning back to me, she said, “Do you want just a plain waffle?” Odd, I thought, but repeated I wanted a pecan waffle. Doris turned again toward the cook and said “She wants a pecan waffle.” “Yes, I have it,” the cook said. No hint of frustration in his voice, just kindness. I could not miss the kindness.

While I waited, someone I assumed to be a manager appeared and Doris went up to him to tell him something she needed in the way of a uniform. He told her yes, he had ordered it for her. Again, there was noticeable kindness in his voice. 

Something is going on with this waitress and the staff, I said to myself. They are taking care of her! There must be some manner of concern for Doris and they have decided to help her however they can. Memory was obviously a problem, but it wasn’t annoying anyone. Maybe she had a sick husband or mother or child that she was caring for and needed this job. Maybe she was the one sick or in a serious financial situation. Whatever it was, it was a beautiful thing to see Doris’s co-workers and supervisor walking with her through it all. When I paid, Doris said “I enjoyed waiting on you.” Oh, Doris, I mused, you have no idea how much I have enjoyed your waiting on me!

Now, that’s it. The end of my little side trip to the Waffle House. The reason I wanted to tell you about it is because we are in a seriously angry place in our nation and I loved seeing people helping people. No ego problems, no complaining, no tongue wagging about Doris’s memory. Just people doing what they could to help, for whatever the reason. I needed this little smile maker and heart booster because I am weary with the out-of-control behavior I see daily on television. I am tired of posturing by politicians who have been too long on the job. Their intention is to impress, but my reaction is disappointment. I am sick of seeing out-of-control adults, and even more, their encouraging young people to act out the same way. This is far more than angry, inappropriate words; it is deliberate damage to properties that don’t belong to them and injury to people who don’t agree.

I’m just too old to ever understand this. I grew up in a time when you respected authority or paid the consequences. My voting in elections has never been strictly one party or the other; I’ve been independent. Sometimes my candidate has won, sometimes not, but once it was over, I accepted it. Yes, I’ve been on the side of an election where the winner left a bad taste in my mouth and fear in my heart, but I didn’t let those feelings rule me, I ruled my feelings. There’s a little matter of what God has to say, as well: “Everyone must submit to governing authorities. For all authority comes from God, and those in positions of authority have been placed there by God. So anyone who rebels against authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and they will be punished. For the authorities do not strike fear in people who are doing right, but in those who are doing wrong” (Romans 13:1-3 NLT).

 

What I witnessed in a Waffle House on a cold afternoon was a gift from the Lord. Had I not gone in expecting something good to happen, I might have missed it; but I went in with an expectation of blessing and I sure received it. The pecan waffle was great and the sane and caring behavior of people even better.

 

 (Doris is not the real name of the waitress.)