“My Day at Memphis – Driving Spirituality into the Core of the Possible” by Dianne H. Timmering

You can find the Permission To Pray video for it on the Spirituality YouTube channel HERE.

Signature HealthCARE of Memphis is a special skilled nursing facility with a legacy of intergenerational love between the child and the grandparent, the bonding of time span by a look and a smile into the eye of one who wants to receive it.

The Bridges of Memphis was started by Corky Rodman, Administrator extraordinaire –one with a vision to define what quality of life could be, not what it was. A jewelry factory of purpose, an industry where residents sold their goods; the products, the fruits of their creative work.

Purposed again. I had not been to the Memphis market in a couple of years, healthcare a changing world from then to now, with the constraints of federal policy and state restrictions imposed upon those who actually take care of the sickest. But this visit was less about the new constraints of healthcare, though the chronic sickness grows. It was about the splendor of the healthcare workforce, the ‘can,’ the frontline clinical fighter, the warrior inside the battle. I walked around and got to witness their beauty – their indelible timelines, in that their lives commingled with the walls of the place because they had just been there so long. Others were newer.

The courses they had to take and practicums experienced were nothing like the actual experience of taking care of the sick and vulnerable who are simply beautiful folks who can no longer take care of themselves. On my visit, several of the nurses met together in the Signature Chapel; God called us in. We stood short and tall, uncertain of what would happen next, and the words began to flow as God directed them to operationalize their spirituality. They were called to activate their legacy of abundance, “pressed down, shaken together” to overflow.

Some began to cry. I told them we had compassion for them within the jewel of our Sacred Six, respect and love for the hard convictions of their work.

We showed them dignity and hope, patience for a bad day, renewed joy in a good one. We surpassed the spiritual core, dug deep, asked God to rid of us the hurt, to take away pain, to heal family members, to “bring” husbands in some cases, to bless, to protect, to favor, to open the package of opportunity because each was beautiful and brilliant. Each was worthy.

How do we drive the beauty of spirituality into the core of who we are, who each one is? How do we not forget that one shining moment of faith when we actually believed that the rain of blessings could happen? Spiritualty is, after all, about sustainability. It’s not just one moment but many, an anatomy of a thousand atoms connected so that belief and favor can happen in the life of the person impacted by torment, suffering, hardship.

The Signature Chaplain Tom continues the spiritual renewal that we witnessed that day in early February. Through engagement, prayer huddles, and in partnership with many of the department team members, Tom continues to drive the sustainability of abundance for this beautiful Memphis team. And we continue to see if it enhances stakeholder satisfaction and retention in the marketplace.

Leveraging hope impacts all around is like a stone on a gentle pond with concentric rings. If the stone falls, the rippled contagion happens and it keeps going, hardwiring spirituality into the nucleus of the possible—uncorked, day to day and very real.

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC

 

“A Conversation With My Mom: An Introduction To Palliative Care” by Dianne H. Timmering

I recently came across this conversation with my mom in January 2012 which I had written down at the time, just after she had passed away in one of our SNFs. I wrote it down to capture her voice. The white page with black ink breathes her immortality and is a true treasure to me. Just like a buried light, it gifts me with her memory and I feel her presence, alive and well.

 

I offer this conversation to everyone to serve as an introduction to our new palliative care core service line. Being able to relive this moment is a powerful example of just how palliative care can Capture a voice in every breath of life. A voice can live long, ring in your ear as a reminder of warmth, of home, of direction, of comfort. The voice is a reminder not to forget, and to live…

January 9, 2012 – Had a good conversation with mom today . . .

I told her sorry that she had fallen and broke her ribs, that convalescing was tough; from there we may have discussed the rottenness of the disease [for she had Parkinson’s]. I just don’t know.

“Hello precious girl,” she said.

She reached out to hug me. I’m so glad she did.

“It is good being with you,” I said.

“It is good to see you,” she whispered.

 “You look beautiful,” I said.

“Look at that pretty face,” she said to me. And then she admonished. “Fix your hair.” (She was always saying that).

Mom told me just how proud she was of me. It meant so much.

I prayed in God’s name and by His stripes she was healed across her body. . .

We studied each other twice like she had so much to tell me so I said, “there is so much going on in that head of yours which you just can’t say.” She knew . . . maybe she just knew.

“You’re the best mommy in the world,” I say, because she could barely speak.

“I love you,” she said with a deep guttural breath, like the gulp couldn’t get out of her way.

Why didn’t I take the time to lie down with her that Friday? Can I forgive myself?

“Hi mommy,” I say.

“Hi precious,” she would respond.

“Hi mommy.”

“Hi Di.”

“Trust Me fully,” God says.

The vacancy in her eyes – so much to say, or nothing, or just peace, like her voice and thoughts couldn’t connect anymore.

I can’t pocket away the grief. I can’t put it in a closet. I can’t do anything with it.

But God knew. Together the 3 of us, dad, my sister, and I assembled the most amazing and beautiful package of love – dad doing his role, Linda hers, and me mine. Not one did more or less. We just did as God orchestrated from above. But God then who was she calling? (She passed with the phone in her hand).

I don’t think she wanted to die.

Did we give her up too soon?

I picked my home over visiting my mom too many times, or was it just rest after a long day?

I wish I could look upon her again-her sculpted face and red cherry hair.

Why didn’t I know she wanted grapefruit and oranges . . . I could have brought her some. . .

The grief I suppose takes one day at a time to process and God sweeps it away behind us as we release it to a new ecosystem of life and survival.

The silence feels good.

Hi Mommy. . .Hi Mommy, Hi Di . . .

She could reach out and touch my face because she could see it; I hope it was a light to her. I hope she knew how much I loved her.

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC

 

“The Power Of The Ask” by Dianne H. Timmering

My four-year-old niece Lola was on the phone with my sister Linda recently and was telling her about her day. While they were talking, Lola suddenly stopped and asked my sister how much longer did she want to talk because her favorite show was coming on and she didn’t want to miss princess Sophia’s slumber party with her friends. Linda paused, laughed inside, and then told Lola that they could be done talking so she didn’t have to miss her show.

And I thought about the power of ‘the ask’.

Lola’s ‘ask’ was honest, direct, and specific and yielded her the result she wanted. Do we do that when we are praying? I know I have found myself thinking healing prayers when I pray for someone on the prayer chain, but DO I ask? And I found that my answer was often no, I didn’t.

Joe and I were so honored to be able to present our early research on the power of the ask and frankly since we did that livestream broadcast we have been more aware than ever of the intent of the ask and the power around it.

I am now asking for the healing of a chronic sickness for a resident…

I am now asking for the healing of a motorcycle victim’s broken bone and an ease of pain…

I am now asking that God zap a devilish cancer of a distant friend…

Let us be bold, specific and honest with God as to exactly what our requests are. It might take another few seconds to put our requests or thoughts into the form of an ‘ask’ but take the additional time up-front, in both mind, thought and deed, and see if the result isn’t faster, more complete and fully sustainable.

Ask…for God alone knows the desires of your heart and see if that doesn’t open up special dialogue. “Talk to me” He says, “I will meet you there.”

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC

“Don’t Run: A DON Clinical Revolution Reflection” by Dianne H. Timmering

Recently in November, SHC hosted our first-ever Clinical Revolution, bringing in all of our DONs across the 10 states that we serve. They are beautiful, inclined to think of others with the passion of their hands and the truth of their skill-sets.

In long-term care, we serve the sickest and most vulnerable, and even abandoned in some cases. Our DONs face cruel sickness on a daily basis…angry family members, stakeholders who are broken, fighting it out on a daily basis, taking care of beloved residents while coping with personal issues that sometimes seem like a tumultuous mountain that grows out of the earth – and they can’t keep up.

Our DONs came with fatigue, and maybe even some hopelessness. Our CEO Joe and other greats leaders, like Kathy O., listened with compassion, dissected their survey results, discussed new tools and clinical offerings, that it was, and would be, worth the wait.

God spoke too.

‘I see you,’ He said. ‘I hear you. I know your pains, and your soulful thoughts that only I can hear.’

He said to trust Him, to let go of the past hurts, regrets, mistakes and to let go and be all that was capable within.

“Don’t run,’ He said. ‘I appointed you for such a time as this. You are called.’

Nursing, after all, is a vocation; service to a population who helped build cities and communities, teach and raise us, farm the soil and fight in distant lands.

What if…

What if the power of the spiritual could heal when nothing else could?

What if we could defy pain through compassionate listening and tender music?

What if we could pray over pressure sores and the power to “heal thy wound” is real?

What if we could prescribe the spiritual of scripture and sew it into torment, or the physicality of what hurts?

What if we could stop a fall or prevent a negative act from happening because we encourage a patient to simply use her walker, because she is beautiful doing it and she just needs a little help?

What if.

What if the power of the spiritual and clinical together could reduce hospital readmits because the patient is just scared? And the qualified team of nurses can handle their physical ails, it was just a frightening moment…

What if we could comfort an angry family member, not because they are really mad at the care we give, but simply because they feel helpless to hope their loved one gets better?

What if.

And together that morning, we started to renew, restore, believe. Because a revolution takes a vision and the belief wrapped around it in the possible. Because risk is only failure when there is no risk at all.

So we let go, and we didn’t run, realizing we didn’t have to. A mosaic of peoples, skills, cultures, traditions, beliefs, fitting into the puzzle of a perfect mission, an army linked arm-in-arm on the front line of the care battlefield. Each one a fortress. Each one serving a pivotal role. Each one skilled. Purposeful and fulfilled, not because every day was absolutely easy, but because each day was powerful in the journey of the destiny of a real revolution.

I say we run toward the revolution of the possible now, for we are the future of what the world can only imagine. We are the intervention of hope, the innovation of true change, of really healing, of pioneering our way and shoveling toward figuring it out together.

Maybe turnover is related to fear of failure and not distress of the position. Maybe turnover can be overtaken and combated by simply believing that a new future for our people is worth the fight of a good revolution, and because we have the right tools, weaponry, armor. A new world awakens.

Imagine we control the regulatory world around us. When an adverse event happens, we can begin the “four step process.” Now.

What if.

That’s the song of a revolution: controlling our world, not waiting for it to sword our gut with the skewer of the sting so that we can’t fight anymore because the fight has left us.

That is our calling. Together, we are the future of what is possible now.

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC

“The Spirituality Framework in a Corporate World” by Dianne H. Timmering

Published on: Dec 1, 2014 @ 13:18

The essence of the spiritual is within. It means that you can be your own spiritual entity of light. We have brought God inside the workplace, inside our for-profit culture, and have been blessed with significant essence of that which is about the presence of what is real, in the light of matter.

Many people ask about and yet fear the spiritual realm in the workplace for real reasons, although through education and the deliberate intention of respect for another’s practice or faith tradition, we have created an environment where we can thrive in the roundness of who we are, un-watered down, spiritual skin intact, just not rubbed off on someone else, so to speak. Simply said, it is a modeling of dignified compassion. It is a new awakening of what being spiritual means with discernment and decision-making in the realm of profit, where humankind and profit-making find themselves inside the same sentence, and a spiritual injection into the fabric of a culture begins to look at the co-worker as a neighbor, a colleague and a friend, someone to care about, to rejoice with, to pray with, to cry for, all wrapped up in the thumb of life, because life flows at work and need never stop, and kindness has its place, and a profit is stewardship, the best of its kind, so that people have purpose and place together in market-borne demands.

Money is good. Unabashed courage of the inner life is even better. Mastering one’s own solitude is boundless.

But most companies are just not ready for God in the workplace. The misnomer that God cannot live where we spend so much time making critical decisions based on profits and margins and people, while untrue, has a well-tuned media life in that the fear is real even though the cause is often based on the assumption that spiritual air cannot come through the door from 9 to 5 because the world says it can’t. But the First Amendment allows the free practice thereof, as does Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, where religion has its place of consideration in the workplace. So, we have opened the door to the experience within a framework – and why not? The rules of the workplace operate within policies and plans, systems and processes, so why not spirituality? Our framework around the model has given it the freedom to flourish and everyone within the walls of employment the right to worship or not to worship, but the freedom to choose.

But even if simulating our model is not happening for you any time soon in your workplace, remember this and weld it to your heart: the spiritual resides in you. The spiritual essence is in you, even in the workplace, where you can practice in the crevices and taffy of the soul who you are in thought and mind, and in deed. While faith can be a sensory experience, faith is a decision, and you can make that decision right there at your work table or office desk. Attach affection to reasoning. Reduce hatred with the practice of forgiveness. Embrace your religion, respect a non-believer. Love those in the world because they are worth it – many in the challenged matrix of life where noise pounds like incessant drums. And they can’t hear. Hear for them and help battle the weapon of dissonant beats, for the world is full of noise and booby traps. God guides around and through. The Divine is fearless. No one can take the Spirit from you; no one can hide your light, for brilliance is made up of quantum particles which seep through any darkness and the thickness of battle. Shine forth, and Seek. Knock. Find.

 

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA

“God: A Quantum Physicist?” by Dianne H. Timmering

Is there a miracle formula? Is faith always enough? If God were a physicist, would He be a quantum physicist, dissecting the universe in nanoseconds of time which go away and never come back? Would He say, “Live, rejoice, have peace because I’m holding what hurts you.” He pinches it between his fingers and it disintegrates into space and it doesn’t exist and then there is no hurt or pain or even heartache of mourning which can linger with a longing of dotted suffering on a landscape of flat terrain.

Is God a God of patterns and systems, process and notion, formulas that we may or may not see, we may or may not understand? A quantum theory is a formula with enough probability of certainty that something happened, that something is real. But it is not exact science, it is a science based on the probable. Is the probable the quantum leap of the unknown, a leap of trust that His hands are wide in the universe of your existence? Inside His formulas of time is His notion of mystery, the mysticism of His essence, His character inside your miracle of need, hope of presence. This mystery He gives to us because it is His way to stay attached to His people, His ironclad tentacle to you, His heart coiled with yours, His soul embedded in your dreams. If we could crack His code, would we still need Him anymore?

I say God likes the power of quantum physics; He is the probable in the likely of time. He is the unknown in the leap of faith; He is the hands in the universe of your existence and even if you can’t see Him, He sees you. His mystery is His pursuit of you; the quantum is our pursuit of Him.

In our efforts to reveal some of God’s limitless activity in our service here at Signature HealthCARE, we have challenged our chaplains to develop case studies on their work. You can see examples of these case studies here.

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC

“Terezin: A Concentration Camp” by Dianne H. Timmering

Terezin, a former military town and fortress, an hour north of Prague in the Czech Republic, was built during the 18th century when the Austro-Hungarian empire ruled the majestic lands of Bohemia and Moravia, where peaceful moats and sturdy encampments never saw battle until the Nazis found it and decided on its fate.

The Terezin Ghetto, where battalions once lived, where a sleepy town of 7,000 Czechs lived in the 1930s before the Germans conquered the lands, where these civilians were forced to leave, because the Jewish populace of the Czech lands was coming. Terezin, re-designed by the Gestapo as a deportation center for the Jews of Prague and the elderly Jews of Berlin, who were transported there with the hopes of a “spa” like life, to live out their days, protected from war, instead of going into the soul of it. Many elderly paid for what they thought was the opportunity to live there, to be transported, paying the Nazi war purse maximum sums inside the treachery of what they could never have conceived. Worse, it was a place for deportation to Auschwitz and Buchenwald where, of the 155,000 who lived in and/or faced deportation from the Terezin Ghetto, there were only 3,200 known survivors. Toward the end of WWII, Terezin built its own crematorium to extinguish death faster, so that in ash to ash and dust to dust scattered into the molecular world of shriveled seed, a person could no longer exist.

Terezin, a place for the vulnerable to perish under the stomp of treachery, lives stolen, legacies obliterated, invisible to new birth lines of being. A place for children, many orphaned during the war where those few brave adults left to tend them, offered secret lessons with hidden Readers. The children painted and contributed to the world of art, allowed (“allowed” because of a predetermined fate by their captor) to design the horror around them, brutal sufferings of sickness, doing without, staying firm within, tapping into the frail memories of warm homes remembered, and sleigh rides in snow. Their artwork, now preserved and poignant on the walls of the Terezin museum, behind glass, fragile, an easy rip to the touch of a human hand or maybe sturdy, after so much toiled turmoil in the memory of one child 10 years old. No legacy, no bloodline, no being.

Let us then be a legacy for life.

A legacy of life; let us jostle open into newness and fresh awakening that life is worth living. Let us live in our greatness — God’s focused creation in each of us. Let us live for loss in past war, even now in bitter feuds centuries old, and the innocence of life that never has a chance.

Still. Seek a new point of awareness. Let us live a legacy of life and maybe the lost won’t be so lost anymore. They will find their way on the shoulder of our breath and in the humanity of memory, in the molecule of new chance, no matter our age, no matter the time, no matter the moment. Your life has started, with every chance still for great purpose. We will always pound out against the walls of time, but don’t let time steal yours.

Life has begun; live, begin, start…Now. Who am I?

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC

“My Mama’s CNA” by Dianne H. Timmering

Being a CNA. What it feels like is truly beautiful, challenging, exhausting, special, hopeful…

Katy walks in with a smile and my mama has to “go” to the restroom; nervous energy trembles an already trembling leg filled with the demon of Parkinson’s, the ghost in her body which she can no longer control. Katy gently taps her hand, given frailty by slender bones; and with a quick squeeze of calm, Katy lets her know not to worry. Katy helps Mama equalize as she raises her from the bed, slips the gait belt around her waist and offers her the handle bar of her walking “driver”. They ambulate toward the bathroom. Mama stubs her socked toe; Katy slows, steadies, holds.

They are patient with each other because the relationship is not one-sided — it is the valuation of respect and love, compassion and belief that life is still worth living maybe because they are connected friends, united in a common purpose of need and conviction. They are special together like a posse of graceful gazelles leaping along a grassy patch in union of leaps and dance, walking together like Katy and my Mama, a glide and scuffle across the floor. They arrive at the bathroom door and they pirouette around so that my Mama can use the toilet. This too is a delicate dance of caution and support, one function cannot, without the other.

Katy leaves for privacy and dignity; Mama asks her to wait just outside the door. Katy does. Patient, a burden to carry for her people, because she’s filled with the jewels of unique compassion. Katy looks around the room decorated in pictures of a life once lived; she fights through the fatigue and a sleepless night before, her son sick with a stomachache, her daughter troubled with a 3rd grade math test.

When Mama is finished, Katy helps her up, tells her about her daughter’s issue with math. It pleases Mama to hear about the world living around her; Katy knows this. Inside these seconds, they are normal friends.

They wash hands, Mama cleans her teeth — she likes to brush her teeth. A crooked hand steadies as Katy places the toothbrush in Mama’s hand, helps her where she misses and washes it out when Mama is done.  An anxious calm fills a body that belies a once active “jitterbugger” and a lover of endless parties. They can talk now, Mama only anxiously calm; her body once a school teacher’s. Her once dominant voice now a raspy sound in a peal of a help offer: she whispers, “I can help your daughter with that math problem.”

Katy nods, grateful for the kindness because she knows Mama can’t really see much anymore, the light still of a life no longer refracts in the eyes to decipher a word or a number on the page. Katy smiles into Mama’s soft wrinkles and Mama taps a pure cheek that held a private tear only an hour ago; and both are fulfilled in the moment of space and time.

Mama tells her a quick story, and they center their giggles one inside the other. Revived with a little new air in four lungs—two that are old and two that are young.  Need and purpose: a synergy of the dance, a CNA and her patient, a friend and her confidant, a mother and her child.

CNAs, we celebrate you — the crown jewel of the industry, the divine beauty of our healthcare nation. God bless you always. Psalm 91.  – Dianne

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA

“Ancient Secrets of the Horse’s Mind” by Dianne H. Timmering

“ . . .since You know their hearts, for You alone know every human heart.” 1 Kings 8: 39

Last week I traveled to Florida to SHC of Palm Beach, where this brilliant team was discussing concrete wellness concepts and integration in various business modeling. It was a good trip in a busy world. We enjoyed the meetings, dissecting the new world of ACOs, physician temperaments, hospital challenges and deep opportunity, and the power that a robust, good outcome-based, “nice smelling” (their words) nursing home can make in the concentric realm of a diverse community and this new frontier of healthcare.

Caught up in this momentum of modeling of hope in healing, preventative or otherwise, excited about a good two days, ready to go home, even restored a little in the warm air which we are desperate for in the frozen valleys of Kentucky, I started to notice people in the airport. Not “people” actually but individuals–the kind woman, worthy and beautiful, simple and kind when I bought a bottle of water from her in the airport store; the older woman with a black eye in housekeeping working to keep the bathroom clean. I prayed for her, wondering in her tilled sadness, that if she were in a dangerous situation, she could get out, that someone would help her, that she could find a way.

The young girl with possible anorexia who was in front of me as we filed through the magnetometers, who sat near me while we waited to board, who sat an aisle and a seat back from me on the plane. She was so thin that if I had reached over to touch her, my finger may have sliced through her desperate vulnerability. I prayed from near and then later from afar that she could know that she was worthy and beautiful.

Then there was the man sitting next to me on the last leg to Louisville, who picked up my bag and put it in the overhead bin before I had to ask. He was quiet but a volcano of effervescence reading the book, “Ancient Secrets of the Horses’ Mind.” An avid reader, I was intrigued and I watched him turn the pages, worthy and beautiful he was, diving into the natural mind of a horse–what was he thinking; what was he learning, I so wanted to know. What were his own ancient dreams, forgotten on the floor of shredded ice, blended in the melting of nothing into nothing and yet, still a molecule of being in the pale boldness of God’s own hand.

What were this man’s ancient secrets, why was the precious girl so very thin, and why did the woman have a black eye? Why?

Humanity–beautiful and frail, deeply wounded, tender, stronger than the force of an ox. Humanity.

And then I remembered the wellness business modeling–a brilliant plan to impact a thousand lives, plus one. Your ancient secrets are in the palm of His hand. He knows you. He will dig and pull and present them to you, let them be yours, for beautiful and worthy you are.

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA
Vice President of Spirituality
Signature Consulting Services, LLC

“Eat” by Dianne H. Timmering

“The LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend.” Exodus 33:11

Recently, I watched a documentary on the Holocaust and this precious man was recounting a vivid story about the GI rescue of his concentration camp in the spring of 1945 when he was 15 years of age. He discussed the extreme and catastrophic living conditions of lacking food, shelter, and other abuses; he did so calmly, succinctly; probably he had spoken of it many times and it had become a story to him and less of an experience for it was long ago. He then shared about the American infantry coming through the gates of the camp and the smiles and cheers of the captives in striped prison garb; suddenly, at 15, the old man found himself free.

“But where did they go?” he asked rhetorically, in his native German tongue to the translator. Forward, out, to a nearby city for shelter and medical care, he said. He, along with his older brother (who had lost their parents and 6 other siblings), set out and found themselves on the road running into an American Tank Division with their men eating their daily rations of lunch on top of the iron “monsters”. The man remembered a young solder, maybe 20, who jumped down off of a tank and came right up to him and gave him his portion of rations for that day’s mid-day meal.

The man, who said no one had “seen” him for six years, was so overwhelmed that as an old one now, tears fell into his eyes and dropped onto his cheeks as his voice clung to the experience as if it had just happened moments ago. He said, the compassion was so tantamount to him that he dropped to his knees and kissed the soldier’s boots. He laughed at the memory and then said, his eyes gleaming, “I really did.” The soldier reached down and gently encouraged him to stand, clasped his face and said, “It will be okay. It will all be okay. You’re free now.”

The power of such a moment–the man, being “seen”; the soldier, giving something out; both taking something in; the soldier bearing the burden of the six years for just a moment of time, seconds but enough. Enough, the man instructed us viewers, that the boy then who is the man now, could forgive, forgive anything even the Nazi cruelty. Such a kindness, so temporary, yet all eternal, wiped out the unquenchable hurt of what we can simply not imagine–holocaust pain extinguished from the food of compassion.

“Eat”, the soldier said. “Eat . . .”

Live, God says. Live. I’ve got you. All is well. It will be more than okay. I see you, He says, staring into your eyes. He picks you up; He gives you food; He says, Eat.

Dianne H. Timmering, MBA, MFA, CNA Vice President of Spirituality Signature Consulting Services, LLC