When caring for persons who are living with a serious life-limiting illness such as cancer, we as pastors, chaplains and caregivers encounter the sacred as well as the scared. In these sacred moments of sharing care and compassion, faith outshines fear, hope wrestles with despair and joy replaces sorrow. The word “cancer” and all that goes along with it bring up several thoughts, feelings, stories and experiences that are different for each person, and yet if we listen “between the lines” a deep longing for peace, comfort and hope are often commonalities. Hope means different things to different people. Hope is varied, multifaceted, ever-evolving and is nourished by our faith and beliefs. In my ministry as a hospice chaplain, I am often met with phrases such as: “I could never do what you do!” and “I don’t know how you do it!” On the surface, these comments may appear to originate out of anxiety, uncertainty, anticipatory grief and perhaps even fear. There may be some truth to that. … [Read more...]

  Her head was wrapped in a bright orange and yellow tie-dyed scarf, a material that looked silky and shiny. The dark circles under her eyes resembled bruised clouds as she muttered, “medullary carcinoma.” She used this term (instead of the layperson’s “breast cancer”) because I was wearing a tie like some oncologists in this pre-fab steel building. But I am not a doctor. I explained I was here to facilitate a reading and writing workshop. She joined the other 10 people seated around a table in the cancer center’s lounge as I passed out a poem by the late Jane Kenyon: The sick wife stayed in the car / while he bought a few groceries. What kind of cancer would you say she had? That is a narrative medicine question. What is narrative medicine? We humans have been telling stories about healing for as long as we have had language. As a formal discipline, narrative medicine began in the 1990s at Columbia Medical School in New York City. Rita Charon, the current executive … [Read more...]

“In life and in death we belong to God.  And life is a gift to be received with gratitude and a task to be pursued with courage.” I quote these declarations from A Brief Statement of Faith and the Confession of 1967 multiple times a day. Sometimes as a pep talk. Sometimes as affirmation. Sometimes as an exhausted last resort. Sometimes as the only hope-filled truths. As a pediatric oncology chaplain, I meet kids and their families when they are first diagnosed with cancer. I’m there when the scans show no changes. I’m there when tumors shrink after radiation. I’m there when scans show tumors are growing even with chemotherapy. I’m there when remission is declared. I’m there when relapses occur. I’m there to bless stem cells before transplant. Families are appropriately in shock at the time of diagnosis. Partly because the day before, life as they knew it was some version of normal and their child didn’t have cancer. And partly because their child has cancer. Cancer is enough … [Read more...]

  My cancer story, like many others, started with a routine check-up. I turned 40 and dutifully scheduled my first mammogram. With no family history of breast cancer, I did not worry about the results. So when my doctor’s office left a message to call, I assumed it was about the insurance card mix-up on the day of my visit. A return mammogram led to a biopsy, which led to a lumpectomy, then a second lumpectomy, and eventually a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. It took six months from the mammogram to the final pathology, which determined that no further oncological treatment would be beneficial. I got lucky. Eleven years later, I am healthy. Both the church I was serving as a parish associate and the church my husband was serving rallied, as churches do. Meals were brought. Cards and flowers sent. Visits were made. Our children had rides and playdates. After each surgery, I went back to work too soon, and people sent me home to rest. As stressful as the time was, … [Read more...]