At 3:30 a.m. my pager abruptly wakes me out of deep sleep: “beep-beep, beep-beep.” I open my eyes and look at the display. The number indicates a call from the hospital. I’m wide awake immediately. For some strange reason, I have a sense of poignancy. “I can’t explain it honey, but I know I have to go.” My wife nods her head, gives me a kiss, and turns over to go back to sleep.
From our living room I call what turns out to be the intensive care nursery, reaching a nurse. “We have a newborn in respiratory distress. She can’t breathe on her own and is on a ventilator. She’s in critical condition and needs to be transferred to UCSF. The parents are scared and want some kind of blessing.” University of California San Francisco Medical Center is a top of the line research hospital. This baby girl must be in serious trouble. “I’m on my way. Tell them I’ll be there in half an hour.”
I open the bedroom door again. “Honey, it’s a little baby. I’ve got to go.” She looks at me thinking the same thing I do: “We’re about to have our own baby soon. I hope our baby won’t be sick.” I give her a knowing look and tell her: “I’ll go and bless this baby. It’s good karma.”
The freeway is clear. I’m through the Caldecott tunnel and around the South Main Street exit ramp to the Kaiser Medical Center much faster than usually. The air is fresh and crisp. I enter the hospital and stop by the meditation room to center myself spiritually. I love this sacred room. As I do before most important spiritual care visits like this, I ask the Divine to let me be an open channel for Divine love and wisdom to work through me.
I ring the bell for the intensive care nursery and am buzzed in. I enter and am greeted by the physician on duty. “Hey, nice to see you. Thanks for coming.”
“Hi.” I recognize him, as he does me, but I don’t remember his name. “How is it going?”
“We’re glad you are here. We’re waiting for the ambulance to take the infant to UCSF. The parents wanted her blessed before they leave.”
I look around the room. It has a rectangular shape, 5 times as long as wide. There are many babies along the walls. Some are on vents. Some have tubes in them. Machines and IVs are beeping. I’m trying to figure out the one I’m supposed to see.
“How is the baby doing? Will she make it?”
“It’s hard to say. She’s on a vent and can’t breathe on her own. Here, let me introduce you to the dad.”
Cole is about my age, maybe a little older. He is in a t-shirt and shorts. I like him immediately: a nice guy, scared out of his mind, just hoping his baby will make it.
“Hi, my name is Jürgen. I’m the spiritual counselor here. How are you doing?”
“Thank you for coming in the middle of the night.”
“No problem. I hear your little one is having a hard time…?”
“Yes. She isn’t breathing on her own. They are transferring her to another hospital. My wife and I were hoping you could bless her.” He is holding on to himself, one arm embracing the other.
“Oh, here’s my wife. Kirsti, this is Jürgen.”
I like her immediately, too. It’s amazing she’s had a c-section just two days ago and now walks in here, in her hospital gown wrapped around her body. She thanks me for coming and instead of shaking hands our arms briefly hug each other.
I feel so much empathy for these parents. I can’t stop thinking one of these days in a few months Deborah and I will be the nervous parents. I pray God will give us a healthy baby. I pray that Cole’s and Kirsti’s baby girl will make it.
“Do you have a name for her yet, I ask?”
“Yes, it’s Kristiina. It’s weird, we’re not really very religious and had picked this name out months ago, not knowing she would be born on Good Friday. We’re hoping since it’s Easter morning, her name will be good karma.”
“Wow.” I haven’t even put it together in my mind that it’s Easter morning.
We walk over to Kristiina. Her hands and feet are so tiny. There is a hint of dark hair on her head. She has a nice color, which makes me hopeful. Yet she looks very vulnerable. So innocent and sweet. The action of the ventilator fills her lungs with air, expands her lungs, and then deflates them again. I feel grateful for the wonders of modern medicine. Without it, Kristiina wouldn’t be alive.
“We’re not churchgoers, but we believe there’s a God, a higher power. I was hoping you could read a Psalm or so and say a blessing for Kristiina.”
“I’d be happy to. Is there anything in particular you would like me to include in the blessing?”
“That she’ll start breathing.”
Kirsti is trying hard to hold it together. She is an M.D. herself and it’s killing her she can’t do anything for her baby, at least not medically. I hope she knows, or at least will understand later, that her strong, calm presence and her graceful confidence are the best medicine she could give her daughter. Cole is not a medical person. He is a senior web developer for Kaiser. He is trying hard to understand what ‘s going on with his daughter. He is scared, but a brave man in his love and support for his baby and his wife.
As I read the beginning of Psalm 139, now glad I followed my intuition to bring this Gideon Bible, Cole and Kirsti listen attentively and relax a little. I then bless Kristiina:
Little Kristiina,
I bless you and ask that God may heal you.
May the One who formed you in your mother's womb
blow divine breath through your lungs
so that you can breathe the breath of life.
May your heart beat and your blood circulate and bring you Divine love and light,
may you know that you are loved and wanted,
and may you find deep inside of you a call to survive, to live, to thrive.
May the God who formed you in the depths of the earth give you many days & years of life.
May you grow up and become all you were meant to be.
I bless this woman and this man, your parents, Kirsti and Cole.
May God's hand be on your shoulders and relieve your fears.
May the One whose knowledge is so vast be the light on your journey.
May you be given the love and strength to bring your daughter through this difficult time,
and may you watch her grow up, proud and filled with knowing what a miracle she is.
For a moment, time seems to stand still. Cole, Kirsti and I are holding hands, touching Kristiina softly, and forming a sacred circle of healing. Kristiina seems to be doing better and looks more relaxed.
The bustle coming from the door brings us back from sacred time into ordinary time. The special transport crew is here to take Kristiina to UCSF. Before they leave, Kirsti hands me her business card. She is the director of a website called Journeys of Heart™. I hand her my card and wish them well.
Just before dawn, I feel very alive as I make the drive back home. I open the driver side window all the way and enjoy the fresh air.
A few weeks later I receive an email from two joyful parents. Kristiina made it! I’m very happy for them and touched that they thought of me and contacted me. Cole writes: “Just wanted to let you know that she has been back home for several days now and is doing fine. … For what it's worth, her condition stabilized after you gave her your blessing.” Kirsti also expressed her sentiments and reflections: “Once again, many thanks not only for coming in during the middle of the night, but for providing us with a sense of calm and strength during what was in hindsight, the lowest point in Kristiina's crisis. Thank you for being the start of her Circle of Healing.” The nurses at UCSF continued Kristiina’s Circle of Healing by hanging a blessing that Kirsti and Cole had written for her above her bed. Kirsti and Cole asked friends and families to send them and Kristiina positive thoughts and energies strengthening the Circle of Healing around her.
Coincidentally, Kirsti has been running the Journey of Hearts™ website for nearly five years. This Online Healing Place is for anyone grieving a loss. This popular website “is a haven of hope and a place of peace on the road to healing from a loss. This site is a place to visit, to sit, to read, to think, to cry, to be, to dream, to remember, to discover, and hopefully, in time to heal. It is somewhere where visitors can feel connected and not so alone, to realize that others have experienced these emotions, lived through them and survived. It is a place where the grieving will discover that there is hope.” This web resource is freely available at www.journeyofhearts.org. Kirsti describes the events of this blessing at www.journeyofhearts.org/jofh/healing/kat_bless2 .
When I got back to bed that Easter morning, I snuggled up to Deborah. I put my hands around her belly and our baby, hoping he or she too will grow up to be all he/she was meant to be. Writing this article, I wondered who would be there if our baby had a health crisis? I don’t know. I trust that the Circle of Healing would be there. Sometimes we are on the giving end, sometimes on the receiving end. That’s what keeps the circle going.
© Jürgen Schwing, 2002
I wish to thank Kirsti and Cole for giving me permission to use their real names and identities for this article.
Rev. Jürgen Schwing, M.A., B.C.C.
Spiritual Care Manager
Kaiser Permanente Diablo Service Area
1425 South Main Street
Walnut Creek, CA 94596
jurgen.schwing@kp.org
925-295-6259
