And I Will Help You Heal

I had a counseling session that day with an elderly woman.  She had been in the emergency room the evening before saying that she was thinking she wanted to kill herself.  They’d sent her home with instructions to see a counselor the next day.  

When I walked into the room I introduced myself, saying that I am a counselor. And that was about it.  She took it from there.  

She was a small woman, frail, hunched over in what appeared to be a permanent posture.  Grey hair brushed back from her well-lined face.  

She told me about her physical health.  The pain and limitations she deals with daily.  She referenced the deaths of some of her family members, and that she feels that everyone in her generation is dying off.  “All the deaths, all the deaths,” she said repeatedly.

I listened.  Offering occasional brief comments to let her know I was staying with her.

“I’ve got so much to talk about,” she said.  “I’ve never opened up about any of it.  I just went on with the day each time there was a death, each time there was another loss.”

I asked about suicidal feelings the evening before, and she nodded solemnly. 

“Yes, I decided I better get myself to the hospital before I did anything permanent,” she said.  

I said that I was glad that she had, and she confirmed that she was glad, also.

We talked a little bit about how counseling works, and why it seems to work. I explained that it’s not that the counselor has any cures, that the healing actually occurs in the process. And she nodded, saying that she understood this.

My knee had been bothering me quite a bit at the time.  I don’t know if she saw it in my face, or in the way I moved. But I could tell that she was zeroing in on something, watching me intently.  Never wavering from looking me in the eye.  Her eyes squinting just slightly in assessment.

After talking for a time she said that she thought she had talked enough for today.  

“Now, what hurts you?” she asked.

I explained that I’m fine, that I just have a knee that’s not doing what it’s supposed to do.  I smiled reassuringly.

But her intent assessment of me didn’t waiver.   She continued to hold my gaze.

After a moment’s pause she said, “I am a medicine woman, a healer of my people.” Then she was silent.  I think waiting for me to catch up.

I nodded.

“It is a gift that I have,” she said simply.

I nodded again.

“You have already helped me today.  And I would like to give you something.  To help you.”

I said okay, and she reached out for my hand.  I was curious.  And a little uncomfortable.  

She took hold of my hand and closed her eyes.  Then she hovered her other hand over my hand, gently moving it in a circular motion above my hand.

Her hands were smaller than mine.  Her fingers crooked little twigs, bent and twisted.  Evidence of a lifetime of hard work.  

I watched her work, surprised as heat started radiated across the back of my hand. Her small hand holding mine was actually cooler than mine.   Yet the heat seemed to be coming from her other hand which hovered several inches above.

 “Do you feel it?” she asked, still keeping her eyes closed.

I said that I felt a good deal of heat across the back of my hand.

She smiled.  

Then slowly she slid her chair over to be closer to my knee, reassuring me that she wouldn’t touch it.

She hovered both hands a few inches above my knee, moving them in the same circular motion, while her head remained bowed.  And that same heat which I had just felt in my hand started to flood into my injured knee.  

She seemed to be praying, but I couldn’t hear her.   

She continued in this manner for several minutes.  Then she removed her hands and shook them off.   The way you would shoo away a fly.  

“I am getting rid of the pain,” she explained.

A moment later she slowly slid her chair back to where she had been sitting when we first started our session, and looked at me.  Again, I think waiting for me to catch up.  

I thanked her.

We wrapped up our session and made plans for our next meeting.  She said that she already felt better, and I said that my knee was continuing to feel quite hot.  

We both smiled.

She thanked me again for meeting with her.  “I like talking to you,” she said.  “And I’ve got so much I need to talk about.  You will help me heal.”  

Then as she was going out the door she turned and said, “And I will help you heal.”

Yes. I had a feeling that would be the case.