By Jacque Panza, ICISF Member
Billy Graham Rapid Response Chaplain Team Member
As a long time hospice nurse, I was called out to home deaths as a regular part of my job. Often, I would arrive to find a variety of responses occurring at the same time among family members. It could be a challenge at times. When I took my first C.I.S.M. course in 2013, I was surprised to realize that there was an acronym for the way I had responded to deaths. S. A. F. E. R. was a technique that I had used going into homes in the middle of the night by myself for years. What an affirmation that I had been doing something right over all those years! Valuable lessons learned from CISM courses, and interaction with fellow attendees, have added insight to the different ways people react in a crisis and how I can best respond…for their comfort and my safety.
Since 2013, I have been blessed to do disaster response to a variety of natural and manmade events; I also have had the privilege of serving as a police chaplain for the last four years. I’ve dealt with many persons as they experienced tragic loss. As a new chaplain, I felt I should learn what to say to people in crisis. However, 14 deployments later, I believe that what we don’t say is of even greater value. The greatest lesson I have learned is that our presence often carries more impact and support to survivors than our words. In our chaplaincy, we call it the ministry of presence.
When I arrive on a scene, it is with quiet respect…to observe the situation and get a feel for how those affected are doing. When I do speak, it is to introduce myself and simply say that I am so sorry for what they’re going through. At that point most people will begin to tell their story and I try to just quietly listen. (Some need physical comfort: I ask, “Are you open to a hug?” This is usually readily accepted, and often I find myself quietly holding someone as they weep.). As appropriate, I will verbally acknowledge their pain but keep my verbal response limited. I follow their cues as to what they need to hear. This is their experience, their story, their pain…not mine.
It can be tempting to share one’s own story, whether to be empathetic to the survivors, or perhaps because saying nothing might feel uncomfortable. Yet, when a “comforter” becomes the teller it may appear to those we are trying to comfort that their feelings of are not valued. Survivors need the opportunity to tell their stories, as they feel led, in order to help start the healing. Sometimes they may not have the words. When they are quiet, we need to honor them with our own quietness until they indicate otherwise.
There are certainly times for words. However, the gift of respectful, quiet presence and sincere listening is without measure. It may be the greatest honor and support we can give to those who are hurting.
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