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The bedroom was uncomfortably warm last night with the dry fall air, so I cracked my bedroom window to cool things off. The sounds of dogs barking, screeching of tires, a whir of sirens in the distance soon became a distant thought as I drifted to sleep. Allowing the “what is” vs. fighting the “what it’s not” has become a standard practice. Literally a game changer for me. I learned a few years back that the more I wanted something to be and resisted what already was, the more frustrated I became, literally fighting a losing battle 100% of the time. It was like wanting the moon to come up at noon. It’s just not gonna happen. Ever. Instead, I’ve come to find great joy in showing up with what is happening and letting it. No judgement. Screeching tires outside - Ok. Looks like there are people with extra energy moving about late in the evening. Barking dogs late - Ok. Dogs bark. They’re dogs. Siren’s whirring off in the distance - thank God for EMT’s and support to help someone injured and thank God I’m safe in my house readying myself for bed. How blessed I am. To be in observance of “what is” sounds so simple. And it is. When the mind jumps in and “helps,” we go from simple to drama. I’m offering there is an opportunity to practice simple. Show up. Observe. Be. Period. The light breeze that’s blowing in my window is nothing short of Divine amazingness. The temperature is cooling and invigorating. It’s like a new breath. It’s like a drink of water when you are thirsty. I’m showing up to the moment. I’m observing how my mind and body feel with the simplest thing like a light breeze. I’m with it. I’m in it. Blessed. Blessed.
I’ve had the privilege of touching Grace. Literally. I’m a massage therapist for hospice patients. People who are given the diagnosis of having 6 month or less to live and are done with poking, prodding, cutting, injecting of traditional Western medicine to “save” them. Hospice gives them the opportunity to live each day they have left with integrity, compassion and autonomy for their own decisions. On this particular day, which started just like any other, I had my regular patients to see. Typically I arrive at the patient’s house or facility, check in with how they are feeling, see what’s new or what has changed and we begin. This day appeared the same when I arrived, but I left my patient after our session a different person. David* was one of the kindest people I have come to meet. He was a regular hard working guy, who came from a big family. He was the youngest of seven. He had been married. He had a job. He had family drama, like so many of us. He rarely talked about any of that, but always had a kind word to say about the staff, his care team and God. David was deeply religious and had his rosary by his bed or in his hand. He said the mysteries daily and would often ask me what day it was so he would know what mystery to say. I had to look up what a “mystery” was in the Catholic faith. We talked about God and being human. Each session with David brought me closer to Grace without even knowing it. On this particular Friday, a few weeks before David passed away, I found myself feeling particularly chatty. Typically I ask my patients about their lives and the flood gates open as they share away about their childhood, their growing up, family or whatever is on their heart as they get closer to passing. Everyone has a story and they love being given a permission to share. On this day being with David felt different. It felt lighter. It felt brighter. David asked me the questions and I began to cry. I cried not sad cries, but cries of being in the space of Grace. David had done his earthly work and was beginning to let go of the drama, the emotions and the things that we come to be on earth to work through and realize. The feeling is indescribable. I kept crying not because I was sad, but to the contrary. I could feel the unconditional love. I could feel Grace in human form. It’s kind of like when you are around a puppy, a kitten or a baby. Our hearts crack wide open and we go to a place inside ourselves that it always accessible, yet we spend most of our life with a wall up, clinging to the idea that such greatness can only be obtained through many things outside of ourselves. Yet, I am here to tell you the simple act of being in the presence of a dying man was as close to Grace as God himself. I felt humbled to have the honor to experience this personal, heart felt experience with David. Soon my quiet, sobbing tears ceased and my head felt warm and tingly. I was able to see the experience as such a gift from the Divine. Each moment that day felt different. It felt clear and calm. David passed away a few weeks later peacefully. He had done his work here on earth. He brought so much to everyone he met, just by being David. Nothing fake. Nothing forced. Just pure David. Grace. Seeing beauty in everything as it is. Thank you David. You forever have changed my life. I am deeply grateful and honored to know you. *Name changed for confidentiality. Erica Hodgson, LMT is a licensed massage therapist with a passion for touching lives, opening minds and supporting hearts. Her deep love of being human brings her the most Divine experiences in her daily life. She loves to share those experiences from the heart allowing others to be in witness of all that is.
I have the honor of witnessing the lives of people as they endure and transform through hospice. I touch Grace everyday through every person I am so humbled to work with as a massage therapist. The thick tears welled up in my eyes and slowly streamed down my face. A moment of touching someone’s heart through a few simple words and then feeling the emotion in the air as my patient took in their meaning. Palpable. I sat in a chair at my patient’s feet. What’s so interesting about this work is that I could work on someone who spent their life making millions of dollars or someone who is penniless wishing they had millions of dollars and in the end, feet are feet. Incontinence is incontinence. Blood is blood. The playing field is leveled near the end of life and things that came before just don’t matter any longer. My patient sat in his Broda chair under a blanket. One tooth left in his mouth. The room smelling faintly of urine. As I massaged his swollen legs and numb feet, he looked at me with his one good eye and told me with pride that a man feels like a man when he has a wallet in his pocket having just gone to the bank. He wants to show gratitude to those that help him by giving them a tip. I know he will never leave this facility. He still holds hope that he will walk out one day, even though he hasn’t used his legs in over a year. I honor that for him and dream with him. I looked him in his good eye and said, “Just knowing you is enough.” He went silent. A single tear fell from the corner of his eye. The words hit him in his essence, his truth. He took his hand that he was able to move and raised it, wiped the tear with the back of his hand and we just hung onto that feeling that come from those words. He smiled a gentle smile and quietly thanked me. I wiped the tears that had streamed down my face, wiped my nose and continued on, holding onto the humanity. Just being enough. No money. No thing. No doing. Just being.✨
Photo Credit: Elizabeth Kay Tick Tick Tick Tick The sound of time moving. My 97 year old angel patient, with her head tilted to the side, as she lays her head on her adjustable side table, covered with a tiny pillow, papers and her glasses. She’s covered her shoulders, arms and back with a stark white bath towel to keep warm. It’s 84 degrees outside, but her thin blood keeps her feeling cold with any temperature inside less than 80 degrees. Tick Tick Tick Tick She’s sleeping, but opens her left eye as I touch her back and shoulder to let her know I’m here for her massage. “What day is it? It must be morning. It’s it time for lunch?” she mumbles, saliva on her tiny pillow from some deep sleep the prior few hours. “It’s Wednesday. It’s almost lunch time. Just keep sleeping while I give you a massage.” I say. “Ok” she says, and relaxes her body as sleep overtakes her thin body. Tick Tick Tick Tick The passage of time while I’m working. I feel her slow, shallow breath going in and out as my right hand is gently on her back and left hand gently on her shoulder. “Mmmm. That feels nice” she says, over the saliva soaked pillow. Her back feels bony and frail. Her hair is white, matching the towel she’s wrapped in. She has 8 wrinkle lines coming from the corner of her mouth where obvious smiles have come and gone over the years. She smiles. The wrinkles pull upwards toward her ears. “How long can you stay?” she says. “Just rest.” I say. As I continue to work, her breathing slows. Occasional puffs out her mouth of breathing, making her lips part. She’s sleeping again. I have a talk with Divine Creator in my mind. “She’s my angel and coming home soon. Earth has had her long enough.” says DC. “I have been lucky and blessed to know this beautiful soul. Thank you DC. Being in her presence is my gift today. I receive it gladly and with humbleness.” I say. Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick.
I’ve had the privilege of touching Grace. Literally. I’m a massage therapist for hospice patients. A few months back I had the most profound experience with a patient. You know when you are minding your own business and all of a sudden you have a momentary experience and you know it is going to change your life? You know it and feel it somewhere deep, deep inside of you. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you wake just knowing you are different because of the experience. Yes, just like that. In hospice work there is a lot of change. Things can happen quickly. New patients come on service. Multiple people show up at the new patient’s house or facility to make sure things are going smoothly. Lots of moving parts. As a team, we all learn about the new patient - diagnosis, family information, medical information, general information etc. As I was reading about this new patient, it was as though after reading his name, I knew deep inside me that I must work on him. It was as if I already knew him, yet I had never met him. I set up an evaluation to meet with him in home. He was laying in a hospital bed in his makeshift bedroom. His knees and elbows were red and hot to the touch. His body looked tired and swollen. He had blankets pulled up to just under his chin and his feet were sticking out of the bottom of the blankets. I looked him directly in the eyes when I greeted him (as I do with all my patients), holding out my blue gloved hand. “Hi. I’m Erica, the massage therapist with Heartland. It is such a pleasure to meet you.” Only my eyes could be seen from around my clear goggles and double face masks. It didn’t matter. I was there to meet him right where he was. No judgement. I saw him. He trusted me through my eyes. All the layers of life which had left countless emotional scars under which he was hiding, peeled back in that instant. It was safe to be seen. He knew and felt that. His body eased. This patient and I only had three sessions together. They were powerful - when one spends life never feeling truly seen and then that moment arrives, powerful inner shifts can be felt. They were palpable. The elbows and knees became less inflamed. A feeling of calm surrender overcame his body, heart and mind. Breathing was easier and less constricted. With each session, his inner tension fell away until he was ready to pass. On the day after the third session, he passed peacefully. His family member who was caring for him reported she hadn’t seen him so calm in so long. She was so pleased with the whole experience of hospice and the entire team’s efforts to care for her brother. She had seen him surrender over those few weeks and come back to himself. This work changes you. You get the honor of seeing someone sometimes at their absolute worst and standing right beside them holding their hand and saying, “I see you.” You don’t try to fix them. You don’t try to ease your own pain as you watch another human suffer. You just show up. You stand with them and hold their hand. You offer witness. You offer human love and compassion. I hear you. I see you. It’s ok to let go. I have you. You matter.
’ve had the privilege of touching Grace. Literally. I’m a massage therapist for hospice patients. I work with all types of ailments in people of all ages. Today I was blessed with a gift. The best part about gifts for me, is that they come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and packaging. When one is just off living life and then, BAM, the gift shows up and changes your world! My patient has dementia. He will look right at you and start up a conversation, which most of the time you can’t understand, but he says things with such conviction, you just know there is quite a story that is being told! You look him in the eyes, smile and listen, you hear him. You take in his every word. His story is important to him and you are witnessing it. That’s an honor I don’t take lightly. I frequently offer my patients some music while we do massage. I’ve found that with dementia, they come back to themselves and this special light pops from behind their eyes and they go into a space and time that is long before their diagnosis. It’s a special place that they forgot about until they “remember” with the music. It’s so magical! This patient was sitting in his chair and I asked him if he’d like some music. His caregiver and family member that were present nodded excitedly stating that he loves music and will sometimes in the evenings sing old songs with all the words correct, even when during the day one cannot understand a single word coming out of his mouth. I have a special compilation of oldies for my Frank Sinatra loving group. I clicked on the music. The words traveled to the patient’s ears. As if by magic, the light switch got turned on and there right in front of me, the person was transported back to a time of joy, love, youth, hope and dreams! He stood up out of his chair, grabbed my arms into the ballroom dance position and proceeded to dance with me a few steps around the room. It was so unexpected and lovely. His daughter and caregiver were stunned, as was I. This patient came back to himself for a few moments and I got to witness it. To bear witness to this gift of humanity was the highlight of my day! The utter joy of the moment transcended through all of us who enjoyed this beautiful experience and left me once again, thrilled to be alive and allowed to humbly share in this sliver of an event of another’s life. As with all of these experiences that come without notice, last for mere moments, and change a person - truly change a person. I am grateful.
I’ve had the privilege of touching Grace. Literally. I’m a massage therapist for hospice patients. Today I met with a patient and his wife was sharing a few moments in her life. She was sharing those kinds of things you raise your head to the heavens and you say, “Really God? Did I need THAT to happen? I’ve got all this other stuff going on as I care for my person and YOU GIVE ME THIS? REALLY?” She stepped from the shower, was drying off minding her own business and literally the shower bar and curtain fell right off the wall. She couldn’t deal with it at the moment and let it sit. The following morning she knew she needed to deal with it and grabbed all the shampoo and conditioner bottles that had been strewn about. In her haste, the cap came off the conditioner bottle and dripped all over the floor between the bathroom and her bedroom, making another huge mess. (Cue hands in the air, looking at God and again, “WHY? REALLY?”) When I arrived, she shared and could laugh, but deep down she was really struggling. Caregiving. It’s a thankless job that we do. Sometimes we get overtaken by emotions that we bury them so deep to our core that we don’t even realize they are down there. Odd things begin to happen and we are often so stunned that we don’t put two and two together to see that we are creating them. Our energy body (mental and emotional) can be so powerful. We think things happen at random and outside of ourselves and when we really pull back the layers and take a look, we can’t believe our eyes. We hold in the emotions. We “handle” the tasks at hand. We control our environment as best we can, or so we think. All hell breaks loose. Another patient's wife over the course of 6 week had the washing machine break, the microwave break, electrical storm took out the power to the house, fried all the outlets in most of the home, flooded the basement due to no sump pump and ruined the garage door opener. MInd you, every week I came back, some major event was happening. Many people would say that is bad luck or just random. I disagree. We are powerful. We are energy in our bodies and that energy, when we don’t listen or honor where we are at, can get out of control. Take my friend and colleague Susie (name changed for privacy purposes) who over a period of a few weeks during a particularly stressful time of caregiving for her mother-in-law (90 years old) and special needs brother-in-law (65 years old) who were living at her house, had her outdoor glass patio table explode, her tooth cracked and fell out, her vacuum blew up, her iced coffee in a plastic blender bottle hit the floor and the bottom blew off dispersing 20 ounces of coffee all over the kitchen floor, and her mother-in-laws 70 year old glass pedestal cake plate fell out of the back of her car and broke in a million pieces. These things were followed up by a few physical things such as a long fever and headache lasting three weeks and a bout with Bell's Palsy. Stress, my friends. It can really do a real loop-de-loop on your mental, emotional, physical and spiritual bodies! Susie thought she was handling it. She thought she was in control of the situation at her home with two new people she had known for years moving in so she could take care of them. She didn’t recognize what a toll it was taking, not because she couldn’t handle it, she could and well. She didn’t allow herself the space to process the emotions of what caregiving meant. Giving of her space. Giving of her time. Giving of herself. Susie forgot that she could have some boundaries around the situation and give herself some latitude in the “new” transition to being a live in caregiver. She forgot that there were emotions that went along with all this “new.” Susie’s physical body and her emotions were not in sync. Her body literally overheated (think glass blowing up, tooth exploding, vacuum exploding, cake plate shattering, fever, headache) with inner rage and anger and on the outside she appeared fine. And if you asked her, everything was fine. Good even. Everything was fine - except it wasn’t. Susie was sharing with our friend group what was going on and yet, she still didn’t connect the dots. One of us asked her, “Are you feeling angry at your loss of self? Are you feeling frustrated that your space isn’t your own at the moment? Are you upset that you can’t walk around your house and do what you want when you want without someone there?” She was stunned. She was silent. It had not dawned on her that her emotions were being held hostage by herself. The inner war had begun and she didn’t see it. That moment of clarity changed her. It was the inner recognition that albeit generous and wonderful and loving to care for others, she forgot herself in the process. As caregivers the number one thing to remember is that YOU MATTER. Yes, you are caring for someone who needs help, but you must care for yourself and as cliche as it is, you must put your oxygen mask on first. Sometimes that looks like taking time for yourself by locking yourself in the bathroom, or getting a relative to help out for a few hours or if no relatives are available, someone from church or a neighbor to help out for a short time. You need to recenter yourself so you can be the best you, for them. Secondly, you can recognize that you can’t control any of what your person that you are caring for has going. You CAN control how you show up. That’s it. You are in charge of you. Nothing more. Your person is busy feeling their own loss and decline and you can’t control that. Only they can. So stop trying to. Get in your own lane. It will go better for both of you that way. Lastly, be easy on yourself. You are doing amazing! It’s a big, huge bowl of mess and you are truly doing the best you can do. Honor that. Honor where you are and allow for some big breaths, some tears, some laughter. ALL OF IT. It’s ALL part of the process.
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