On a warm Spring day a year ago, early April 2019, I bicycled to work at Vancouver General Hospital. My bike safely locked in the Cycling Centre, I walked briskly down the West 10th Avenue sidewalk towards the old Doctor’s Residence where the Department of Spiritual Care and Multifaith services offices are located.
However….first things first!
Yes, a pause must be taken on the way, in order to appreciate at close hand, to gaze upon and to record, the lovely blossom tree experienced only as a pale pink blur as I had sped along the bright green bicycle lane on the opposite side of the road.
When I arrived at the garden area at Willow Street and W. 10th Avenue, I put my panier down on a bench and stared up into the multiple shades of pink of an exquisite star magnolia, some blossoms just emerging from their thick outer cover, some already wide open exposing creamy yellow centres; a clear blue sky the backdrop. I rummaged in the side-pocket of my panier, located my cell- phone, unlocked the camera and aimed upwards; click, click….shift angle slightly….click, click!
I needed to drink in the beauty of the pink blossoms, filling my senses and grounding me before I entered the hospital wards to encounter suffering.
To absorb nature’s beauty with all my senses has been a habit since my earliest days, beginning in my rambling family garden.
As I paused from my reverie and recording of beauty to look sideways and check my bag, I noticed a woman had appeared to my right. Using an iPad, she too was taking photos of the lovely tree.
She too paused for a moment, and I caught her eye, smiled and said, probably common words, but likely with a passionate tone: perhaps: “Sooo beautiful….!”
The woman surveyed me up and down for a few long seconds, and then she emphatically stated in a thick European accent: “ You are an artist!”
Before I could respond, she smiled and added, touching her right earlobe: “And look, we are twins!” She was wearing a single dangling earring with three strung pearls. I felt one of my ears and touched my dangling earring with it’s two strung pearls. ( I wore one in each ear). Strangely, I did immediately feel a close connection to the woman.
She gazed approvingly again at me, from head to foot and back up again! I too gazed down to see my legs in navy blue dress slacks stuffed awkwardly into my ankle length socks, a faded navy cotton with a bright pink argyle pattern on the cuff; on my feet, black MaryJane strap shoes. Nothing fancy; the “comfort plus” brand recently purchased from PayLess Shoes- perfect for my middle – aged feet! Perfect for hospital chaplaincy work, which involves a surprising amount of walking – both from building to building as well as up and down long corridors.
As I lifted my head, I noticed the sleeves and the front of my fully buttoned- up cardigan, patterned with medium and large daisy-like flowers with petals in shades of mauve and pink around black centres, all on a white background.
Perhaps I could indeed be mistaken for an artist of some type!
The woman noticed my hospital ID tag and asked if I was a nurse. I responded that I was a chaplain, along with the explanation that I visited people who requested spiritual or emotional support. She then began to share some of her story with me. It turned out her people were my mother’s people; she herself suffered from a chronic mental illness and had experienced many challenges and deep wounds trying to live in Vancouver in poverty. She told me that she, as an artist, would much rather have spiritual care than the medications forced upon her, which she felt were poisoning her organs.
As we parted, me to the offices and she back to her ward, her hour- long pass finished, I promised her I would ask my colleague to visit her ( I myself worked in Critical care areas, and the work was divided rather strictly).
As we parted, I truly felt a deep connection with this woman. This connection I still feel today as I write. Although I never saw her again and do not even remember her name, every time I pass that little tree, and inbetween times too, I remember that unique encounter with my “twin”.
I did refer her to the appropriate colleague, but the patient did not wish to open further.
In pastoral work, and actually in all of life, I increasingly believe one must always make the most of any meeting, however brief, with a human brother or sister, also with our animal friends and nature: I believe it is always sacred time!
When my sons come over, I regularly regale them with stories of people I meet. They expect that when I randomly encounter people in random places – surprisingly folk often very quickly share important parts of their life story with me.
When I recounted to them about my random meeting with this lovely woman whom I had met while taking photos of flowers, and about her pronouncement, or perhaps her anointing, of me as “an artist”, and then added in my story, towards which hospital ward she then headed, they were highly amused…. “Mum, YOU are an Artist!”
I responded with a knowing smile and a little shrug: “It takes one to know one, guys!”
I learned much at my mother’s side from a young age, not only about the magnolia tree – that it is one of the oldest flowering species on our earth (we had a white star magnolia in my rambling childhood garden) – but also how to tell a story with a good laugh at oneself, and perhaps subversively, with a deeper thought upon which to reflect.
I do hope my sons will remember fondly their slightly crazy “artist” mother and her oft- repeated stories!
P.S. For those interested in more trivia about the Magnolia plant:
“Of the many interesting facts about the magnolia flower, the most striking one is that it is a very old flower. In fact, there are fossils dating back 20 million years that show that the flower has been gracing Earth since the very beginning of time….”
JenniEliz 