Category Archives: Devotions

“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
dtimmering@signaturehealthcarellc.com
Twitter: @Dhtimmering

#shcspirituality

“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

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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
dtimmering@signaturehealthcarellc.com
http://blogs.ltcrevolution.com/spirituality
Twitter: @Dhtimmering

#shcdailydevotional

A Poem Written By Ten Residents . . . “WHEN I THINK ABOUT MY LIFE”

The following was a poem composed by ten different residents at our Winter Park, FL facility.

Ten Residents added one line each to a poem entitled:

WHEN I THINK ABOUT MY LIFE

Carmen   How wonderful it is!

Archie     How the Savior saved me

Betty      If I can get up in the morning, I thank Him

Marge    I thank Him for this life He gave me

Melinda And the wonderful memories

Myra       For my family

Sammie For my children

Betty      And wouldn’t it be perfect if He took the rain away for a day

Carol       I am so thankful for my husband (as he sat next to her)

Beth        and to one day to be able to come and go as I please with purpose.       

 

One poem created by ten poets who listened to what had gone before them and thought about what they could add to this on-going work of art.  This was a powerful reflective exercise that shifted both the spirit and brain into a higher gear.

“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

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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
Vice President of Spirituality and Legislative Affairs
Signature HealthCARE Consulting Services, LLC
561.301.7401
dtimmering@signaturehealthcarellc.com
http://blogs.ltcrevolution.com/spirituality

#shcspirituality

“Ancient Secrets Of The Horses’ Mind” by Dianne 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

#shcspirituality

“Rhythm” by Dianne H. Timmering

“Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Matthew 6: 9

Recently I had an encounter with God where He held my face and I clasped my hands upon the back of His so that He was holding my cheeks in the palms of both hands. Our fingers tangled like the worry that is in my head and He whispers “shhhhh” within the funnel of my ear; His echo inside my noisy brain calms the tender pain of a thought-filled heart. And I am afraid no longer and the world spins back into order as I rest against His cheek and hear the rhythm of His smooth skin into the curve of my ear. I listen to the world inside of Him as if my ear is pressed to the ground of soil, the earth firm and humming to its own rhythm of budding seeds which grow underneath, for spring is nigh.

God hums like perfect machines inside a perfect factory of brilliant silk and sliding down the tendrils of lighted gloss are the words . . . nothing is wrong, nothing broken, no pain, heaven on earth, all is well . . . words hard to hear in the heat of sorrow or the cave of hopeless dreams.

We are together and I forget what I was worried about and the loneliness of the moment. And we dance and He smiles, a crystal gleam to His eyes of which there is no color because they are bright like the sun.

Perfect step, perfect rhythm, Third Heaven on earth . . . Ask Him for a dance.

Love to all, Dianne

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

#shcspirituality

“At The Ballet” by Dianne H. Timmering

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Matthew 6: 9-10

Last night, I took  my sister, Linda, my niece, Robyn and my great niece, Lola to the Nutcracker here in Louisville. I was late to the theatre and when I got there I saw Lola waiting (I had the tickets) and I shouted her name. She came running, and shouted back with tremendous joy, “Hi Di, I’ve missed you so much.” I picked her up and twirled her around in her beautiful glittery copper shoes and shining sequined dress. She couldn’t wait to go in, or for it to start, taking her own ballet classes herself where they live in Los Angeles.

We got her a booster chair so she was a real girl, in a real dress, watching a real show. She watched the ballet in its entirety, giving erudite and interesting assessments throughout the performance, wondering if the towering mice were bad, for example, who tried to steal the nutcracker mid-way through the show.

When the ballet ended we stood in union for the dancing artists who had performed with such eloquence and my sister, niece, and I turned around and not far behind us was the handicapped section. There they were in sophisticated wheelchairs, two beautiful young women with velvet dresses and warm covers. They could not move, abandoned by the utility of their arms and legs. I prayed so hard for an instant miracle, for them to know what it was like to stand and to twirl like the dancers on the stage. We prayed so hard that that could happen. Could deliberate prayer truly heal even the most forgotten? Just then, just at that moment?

And then I noticed their glowing smiles and effervescent skin, accented by young make-up, for they were burgeoning women after all. They gleamed with such beauty under the warmth of their fancy dresses; and they were happy. Their smile was their own stand of applause.

We live in a broken world, an often unjust and unfair one as well, but where joy comes still and can even live. Let us pray for these beautiful young girls to have lives beyond the chair, and for all those who suffer, to twirl beyond the constrictions of their illness and the strangles of pain. Let us pray for quantum hope and colliding miracles. Let us transform faith into the strength of standing, one for another, linked, because we believe, because heaven can live on earth. Let us twirl.

Love you all. Dianne

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

#shcspirituality

“In Defiance Of Suffering: A CNA Reflection” by Dianne Timmering

“This is the Lord’s sign to you that the Lord will do what he has promised: I will make the shadow cast by the sun go back the ten steps it has gone down on the stairway of Ahaz.’” So the sunlight went back the ten steps it had gone down.” Isaiah 38:7-8

Day of Service . . . a rejuvenating encounter for many of us as we have heard from the home office army of givers during the last 12 days. It is an experience, one of identity, the power of stop, hold, look, see, step into another’s world, into the gray of deep eyes, gleaming or dull with wonder as to why this strange person is bending down or over into their wheel-chaired space of time.

I am a stranger to Ms. Margaret and she wonders if I am a new CNA on the floor and will be taking care of her today, tomorrow, the next one. Curious links of thought emit illuminating her cautious eyes which are vulnerable, considering, lost, tired, tender, frail, yet fruitful like a juicy berry of expectation. Hope fills with nectar. Because I see her; and she sees me. And we connect through a thousand peals in the pierce of a second and trust comes, because it must, because today I am her caregiver.

In truth, I am only assisting her primary care giver, Karen, a dedicated CNA filled with such patience and integrity of skill and deliberate intent of good, that I wonder if I do my day to day job as well as she commits to the quality of purpose she gives whether she is making a bed to perfection, offering dining assistance, or helping a resident ambulate to the toilet. Karen is a seven year veteran, and I am inspired by all that she is; I am inspired by the way God made her. I watch her and I try to be like her.

She instructs me and I do exactly what she tells me—to help feed Ms. Margaret, a 1950s local Ms. County beauty queen whose fingers won’t do what she is telling them to do. Mine can help. I gently unfold her slender hand and tuck her weak fingers round the enlarged handle and she takes a bite of peas—one bite and then those tendrils close again. The spoon falls. Applesauce I notice styles the corner of her thin lips; we dab at her mouth with the open napkin; she smiles.

I am struck by her confidence in me, that I will try hard, that I will know what to do. What a burden on the both of us.

But we try together and we communicate and trust builds with the best intent and patience of mind even when there is also something do at the next bedside, next door, in the next room. We engage and I ask her a question about the picture on her night stand—it is her son whom she loves. He lives in another state. She misses him. I tell her I am sorry. She wets a tear; we share the compassion of need tender at the intersection of colliding hearts.

A renewed pulse of energy strikes me like the unwearied sun on that first spring morning and I realize what we are doing and why we are doing it—radical change to the essence of aging; what better mission on any corporal plain. Suffering loneliness, chronic pain, body abandonment, sorrowful days, heavy sickness that some of our people are forced to wear and yet still they smile when we step into their presence of time. It is beyond a feeling, it is a knowing of purpose for both of us. To live. To really live.

Signature HealthCARE—a movement in the defiance of suffering.

Love to all.

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

#shcspirituality

“Deliberate Good: Our CNAs – A Reflection On Service Day” by Dianne Timmering

Day of Service . . . a rejuvenating encounter for many of us as we have heard from the home office army of givers during the last 12 days. It is an experience, one of identity, the power of stop, hold, look, see step into another’s world, into the gray of deep eyes, gleaming or dull with wonder as to why this person is bending down or over into their wheel-chaired space of time.

I am a stranger to Ms. Margaret and she wonders if I am a new CNA on the floor and will be taking care of her today, tomorrow, the next one. Curious links of thought emit illuminating her cautious eyes which are vulnerable, considering, lost, tired, tender, frail, yet fruitful like a juicy berry of expectation. Hope fills with nectar. Because I see her; and she sees me. And we connect through a thousand peals in the pierce of a second and trust comes, because it must, because today I am her caregiver.

In truth, I am only assisting her primary care giver, Karen, a dedicated CNA filled with such patience and integrity of skill and deliberate intent of good, that I wonder if I do my day to day job as well as she commits to the quality of purpose she gives whether she is making a bed to perfection, offering dining assistance, or helping a resident ambulate to the toilet. Karen is a seven year veteran, and I am inspired by all that she is; I am inspired by the way God made her. I watch her and I try to be like her.

She instructs me and I do exactly what she is tells me—to help feed Ms. Margaret, a 1950s local Ms. County beauty queen whose fingers won’t do what she is telling them to do; mine can help. I gently unfold her slender hand and tuck her weak fingers round the enlarged handle and she takes a bite of peas—one bite and then those tendrils close again. The spoon falls. Applesauce I notice styles the corner of her thin lips; we dab at her mouth with the open napkin, and she smiles.

I am struck by her confidence in me, that I will try hard, that I will know what to do. What a burden on the both of us.

But we try together and we communicate and trust builds with the best intent and patience of mind even when there is also something do at the next bedside, next door, in the next room. We engage and I ask her a question about the picture on her night stand—it is her son who she loves. He lives in another state. She misses him. I tell her I am sorry. She wets a tear; we share the compassion of need tender at the intersection of colliding hearts.

A renewed pulse of energy strikes me like the unwearied sun on that first spring morning and I realize what we are doing and why we are doing it—radical change to the essence of aging; what better mission on any corporal plain. Suffering loneliness, chronic pain, body abandonment, sorrowful days, heavy sickness that some of our people are forced to wear and yet still they smile when we step into their presence of time. It is beyond a feeling, it is a knowing of purpose for both of us. To live. To really live.

Signature HealthCARE—a movement in the defiance of suffering.

Love to all.

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

#shcspirituality