Presence is the Operative Word

One of the greatest joys of my life at the moment is volunteering at a local hospital, offering music to hospice patients. I've been doing this for about two years now and it's taught me a lot about myself and about the nature of giving service in my community and about what healing really looks like.

You see, for a long time I held back from singing in hospitals (although it had been suggested to me countless times) because I had all kinds of stories in my head about not being a good enough singer, about being in the way of the "real" healers (the medical professionals) and about whether what I had to offer would really do anyone any good, after all. When I finally decided to dive in and do it (after my mom passed away, which is another story) I found myself singing in the hallway of the hospice unit at the hospital. Now this was interesting! On the one hand, it was certainly not too nerve-wracking in terms of feeling like I was performing, but on the other hand (to the chagrin of my ego) I discovered that most of the time people didn't even notice that I and my partner were there at all...or so I thought.

After a while, we began to notice that the staff would brighten when we were around. Some of the nurses might sing along as they passed in the hall, or even dance a little as they made their rounds. On occasion, family members would stand in the doorways of their loved ones' rooms to listen for a minute or two. And most touching of all were the times when a patient who was well enough would come to listen, IV pole and all. One time there was a family that insisted on having their pictures taken with us like we were real celebrities, ha! One time we were asked to come into someone's room who was a singer/songwriter. She particularly loved Stevie Wonder and so my partner (God bless him!) managed to pull out a couple of Stevie Wonder songs he knew and she sang along. Her family was amazed because she had been so lethargic up to that point...

What this has taught me is that half of being a healing presence for someone is about presence -- or maybe a great deal more than half. Sometimes what people need, more than any drug or any type of therapy is just a loving presence. So I've learned when I come to the hospital to just focus more on being with people than to worry about how good I'm doing at what I do. It makes me blush now to think about how much I held back because of that now. It's not that I don't need to think about those things, but they're really not the first priority anymore. I'm learning to ask first what people need and then I'm guided as to what to do from there -- even if it's just making the nurses laugh for a moment, that's a lot.

Yesterday, I visited my first in-home hospice patient. Again, this was something I wasn't sure I'd have the courage to do. And again, I was humbled because there really wasn't that much I could do. Besides the fact that the patient had a live-in companion and a home health aide there at the same time I was, she was pretty quiet and I was told not to expect her to be overly responsive. I was surprised when we were able to have a conversation (even if she did loop back around and ask me the same questions a lot, so what?). But the sweetest moment was after I had given her a hand and foot massage and was just holding her hand. She looked me in the eye and said, "It's so nice just to hold your hand." In that moment, I knew that whatever I may call myself -- "sound healer," "teacher," or "volunteer" -- I was being a healing presence. And all I did was show up. That's the gift of healing.

May healing sounds be yours,

Sandra