Linc, My Forever Guide And Dearest Companion

Dear Linc,

I have been thinking of you a lot these past few days and I know that I have shared much of this with you before, yet when I receive a nudge I have always learned to follow it.

I was thinking about when we first met. It was when we wanted to have Sarah baptized and we were not in regular attendance at any particular church and Peter Van Hook who had baptized Doug would not baptize Sarah because of that. Paula was agonizing over this and asked you and you said, “Yes.” Richard and I visited with you at the hospital and you said you would be more than happy to baptize Sarah and just hoped that we would consider finding a spiritual home. Not long after that we were worshipping at St. James with Shannon Leach and Jim Tendick. The dynamic duo and oh, how we loved our time there.

I felt the call to chaplaincy in 1996 when my brother, Rick, died and had an appointment with you in the student room. You asked me why I was there as I had twenty years into teaching and you told me to wait, as I had so much invested in my teaching. I remember you gave me Rachel Naomi Remen’s book called Kitchen Table Wisdom and it was the best counsel you could have ever given to me. The summer before my twenty- fifth year we interviewed again and I was accepted a full year before I would begin. You teased me about being the “first” who has accepted a year in advance, yet that helped me make the transition from leaving a profession that I adored into this new unknown calling of chaplaincy.

I began my path with you in 2003, and the rest is history. At that time of my life with addiction rearing its head within my family, I sorely needed to gift myself with this time of healing and presence. Most of the time I felt as if I was wearing my insides on the outside and gently the layers of who I was began to emerge in ways I could never have imagined.

I can still see you waiting for me downstairs with toilet paper hanging out of your pockets and telling me that you were “ready” as we braved the cold and I asked you what you were noticing about me. You would look down at me with a twinkle in your eye and ask if I wanted the “good news first” or the learning edges. I could hear from you and from my peer’s things about my personhood that had never been realized before. I think I must have used up most of the Kleenex in the student room as my tears flowed. One walk and talk I told you that I felt so very embarrassed with all of my tears and you looked down at me and said, “Joanie, I wish I were as in touch with my emotions and feelings as you are.” Can you even for a moment imagine how life affirming that reframing was for me? Another time, we were walking on our way back into the hospital and again, you gazed down at me and said, “Joanie, have you ever imagined what your life might look like without all the striving.” This has been and continues to be one of my most pivotal of life experiences. My entire life my worth and personhood had been about what I was doing, how I was performing and never, ever had I thought that a life where I could just BE Joanie was enough, more than enough and that I might be enough just as I was. This was a foreign language to me at that time, one that I had never heard as ALL of my value was focused on the doing part of my life and not the leaning and resting into BEing.

On the day that Douglas overdosed Judy found you and I believe you had been out jogging. It was a Sunday, you didn’t even stop to eat and you walked into the room and I knew that I would gather my circle of healers to hold this sacred space and that is just what you did. You asked a young woman to leave (that I didn’t even know) and said that I was going to be caretaking her and not taking care of myself. She left in a huff and I was so grateful you were my “bouncer” that day. You prayed over Douglas and said the words that I could not and saw his soul take flight after his last breath. Nancy and you created his service at Camp Tuttle that I had more family and friends tell me was one of the most heartfelt and meaningful services they had ever attended.

I could go on and on, yet sometimes I think as humans in these earth suits we may forget the impact we have had and have. The seeds that you have scattered far and wide are growing and will continue to. YOU have given of yourself daily for so many years dear friend. Now, for this moment, it is time for you to receive, as this has been core learning for me after the loss of Douglas. I had nothing to give for a very long, long time and learned how to receive and it has indeed been a learning curve for me.

Please keep yourself open to all the miracles and Richard and I are praying for you dear Linc. I do not know what the future holds, yet I’ve always believed in sharing my heart openly and letting others know how I feel about them today, in this moment.

Shannon and you both came into my life when my need was great. My two brothers who just “get me” and this is no easy task. Shannon was there for me when my brother shed his earth suit and I’m not sure I could have survived the loss of my son without my chaplain community. I could not understand for the life of me why I was leaving teaching a job that I embraced with my whole heart, yet Spirit knew something that I did not. My chaps would hold my hands and heart when I could not.

Spend these days healing, refueling and now is the time that you use every single thing that you know, have taught, witnessed, noticed and trust that you are not alone and allow your village to surround you. This is their gift to you and your gift to them and you have permission to be very bossy!

Gentle, gentle care and the most loving of care and prayers to enfold you and your lovely family, Daisy included. ☺

Hoping we can share a hug sometime soon and in the meantime I must tell you that I don’t wear crazy socks any longer because it’s just too hot! Dr. Poku would not be happy with that.

Hand in hand and Heart to heart,

Your pal, Joanie

I penned this letter to Linc, my chaplain supervisor as he was struggling to remain on the planet. He had been diagnosed with an aggressive cancer and succumbed to it in June of 2016, four months after his initial diagnosis. He was a brother to me and many felt this way about him. Linc saw me, truly saw me often in a way that I could not yet. Nothing was ever too messy, shaming, embarrassing or just plain horrific to bring to him. He never flinched and together we sifted through the debris of what no longer was serving me so that we could get to the nuggets.

I carry his teachings, his love, his curiosity, his desiring to truly see everyone who crossed his path in their shared humanity. "He was gentle and tender with patients, his wife said, while being ferocious and aggressive in promoting their needs to administrators." Heather, his daughter called him a "doting father and besotted grandfather" of her four children.

Linc, your forty-one years of teaching have gifted thousands of us who were blessed to have had you in our lives. I carry you with me in all my encounters and can feel you reminding me that I have two ears and one mouth, do twice as much listening as speaking you would drill into us. Yes, Linc, you come into my heart often with the most vital reminders of how to BE.

I am forever grateful to have shared with you time and time again what you meant and still mean to me today. In gratitude for your reminding me to follow my nudges, those inner knowings and to learn how to trust them for their wisdom and guidance.