Seeing with Compassion: Practicing Lovingkindness & Instilling Faith & Hope

Ashley Tyler

Welcome, everyone, to Poetic Nursing: The Nurse’s HEART—where nursing, caring science, and human connection come together as an art form. I’m your host, Ashley Tyler, and today’s episode is one that I think might really resonate with you. We’re diving into Jean Watson’s Caritas Principles—specifically, practicing lovingkindness and instilling faith and hope. And you know, it’s all about seeing things clearly—compassion transforms care into healing, and purpose into legacy. Isn’t that beautiful?

Ashley Tyler

In today’s world, filled with constant noise and distractions, it can be so easy to let judgment, stress, and expectations cloud our vision. I mean, we rush through the day, running from task to task, and sometimes we forget to pause. But when we step back and reflect, we realize we actually have this incredible ability to see clearly—our patients, our colleagues, and even ourselves—with lovingkindness, with hope, and with grace.

Ashley Tyler

So, let’s do something a little different today. Take this moment to pause, breathe, and join me in a journey of mindful reflection. Together, we’ll explore how practicing lovingkindness and instilling faith and hope—simple, profound acts—can truly transform our lives and the way we care, creating healing spaces that embrace not just the body but the mind and the spirit. Let’s begin.

Ashley Tyler

Let me tell you a story about a nurse named Sarah. Sarah was—well, like many of us—committed to her patients but stretched thin. Back-to-back shifts, endless call lights, and an ever-growing to-do list had left her feeling exhausted. She was running on empty, barely able to keep up with the demands of her day.

Ashley Tyler

One day, there was this patient constantly pressing the call light, asking for things that, honestly, didn’t seem urgent. And she found herself getting, well, frustrated. I mean, Sarah felt that it was never enough no matter what she did. She’d give her all, and yet, the patient seemed ungrateful—dismissing her efforts like they didn’t even matter.

Ashley Tyler

But then, something happened. As she hurried into the patient’s room for, I don’t know, maybe the fifth or sixth time that morning, she noticed something she hadn’t before. A photograph by the bedside. It was of a young woman surrounded by family—smiling, happy. And in that moment, Sarah paused. She really looked at her patient—an older woman, now frail but edged with a certain resilience.

Ashley Tyler

This pause—it wasn’t planned or part of the routine. But it gave Sarah a new perspective. She saw beyond the patient’s constant requests and instead saw a person who might be feeling scared, maybe even lonely. Someone who wanted to feel heard, to feel a little less invisible in the chaos of the hospital environment. It was that simple pause, that moment of seeing, that shifted everything for Sarah. She began to care not just for the patient’s physical needs but for her emotional world too. Sarah's cup was filled, and she felt her purpose was renewed.

Ashley Tyler

Let's look at another story, Imagine being in Jennifer’s shoes. You’re a nursing student on your first clinical rotation. Everything feels new. You’re nervous, maybe a little unsure of yourself. Jennifer walks into her patient’s room, where an elderly man has recently been out of surgery. At first glance, he seems distant and withdrawn. So, she moves through her checklist, checks his vitals, does her assessments—everything by the book. But there’s this sense that, I don’t know, something’s missing.

Ashley Tyler

Jennifer can’t shake it. It’s that feeling we all get sometimes. Like we’re completing the tasks, crossing off our to-dos, but we’re not really connecting. And that’s when she remembers something her nursing mentor said—‘sometimes, the greatest gift we can give isn’t another intervention. It’s simply being present.’ So, Jennifer decides to try something different. She pulls up a chair and sits down next to the man. No clipboard, no stethoscope—just her presence.

Ashley Tyler

At first, there’s silence. It’s awkward, even uncomfortable. But then, something shifts. Jennifer looks at him—not just as a patient, but as a person. She notices the slight tremor in his hands and the way he gazes at the window like he’s looking for something far away. And that’s when he begins to talk. Slowly, haltingly, he shares bits and pieces of his life—the things he misses, the fears he carries, the hope he’s trying so hard to hold on to.

Ashley Tyler

In that moment, Jennifer experiences what it truly means to practice lovingkindness. It’s not about fixing or doing—it’s about seeing. She sees the man and, for the first time, he feels seen. And you know, it’s such a simple thing—being present, sharing a quiet moment. But for that patient, it was the difference between feeling invisible and feeling cared for, fully and completely.

Ashley Tyler

And that’s the beauty of lovingkindness, isn’t it? It has this way of opening up doors—not just for connection, but for healing. For both the patient and the caregiver.

Ashley Tyler

You know, when I think about instilling faith and hope, I’m reminded of a story—a moment that stayed with me. It’s about a nurse named Maria. Maria worked in oncology, and one evening, she found herself sitting beside a patient who had just received, well, devastating news. His diagnosis—a rare form of cancer—had shattered him. He sat there, staring at the wall, shoulders slumped, his entire body just, I don’t know, weighed down by hopelessness.

Ashley Tyler

Maria could have walked away. After all, her shift was almost over, and they’d barely exchanged a word. But something in her heart told her to pause, to stay. So, she did. Without saying much, she pulled up a chair and sat beside him. For a while, they were both quiet. The beeping monitors, the soft murmur of the hallway—it was the only sound in the room.

Ashley Tyler

And then, Maria gently broke the silence. She began to share a story from her own life. It wasn’t anything dramatic. It was about a time when she, too, had felt completely lost, unsure of how to move forward. Maria shared how she clung to the tiniest glimmers of hope even in her darkest moments—hoping that things might, just might, start to improve. As she spoke, this patient, the man who moments earlier hadn’t said a word, began to open up.

Ashley Tyler

He shared his fears—the uncertainty about his future, the worry for the ones he loved, the sense of, well, losing control. And Maria didn’t try to fix it. She didn’t offer reassurances she couldn’t guarantee. What she did offer was her presence—her undivided, compassionate attention. And, in turn, she gave him something even deeper. She gave him the strength to see past the weight of the moment and imagine a future where he could still find meaning and joy.

Ashley Tyler

You see, hope doesn’t have to be this big, abstract thing. Sometimes, it’s about grounding ourselves and our patients in the here and now. Letting them see that a new possibility exists in this one moment—this single, fleeting moment. Maria couldn’t cure her patient’s illness, but by simply being there, she sparked something within him. And I think we often underestimate the power of that. The way hope can quietly, so quietly, light a path forward.

Ashley Tyler

Let me leave you with a story I once heard—a story about a nurse who had that very same question many of us might struggle with. She turned to her mentor and asked, “How do you keep your heart open after years and years of witnessing so much suffering?” It’s such a raw, honest question. One that sits at the very core of caring.

Ashley Tyler

And this mentor, without hesitation, spoke of something genuinely profound. She said, “You see, suffering isn’t something we can—or should—turn away from. It’s like a mirror. It reflects not only the pain of others but also our own vulnerability, our own humanity.” And then she added, “The key, the real key, is not to harden ourselves to the world but to let that mirror teach us to see more clearly—with compassion, with tenderness, and with love. Because that’s where healing begins—not just for them, but for us too.”

Ashley Tyler

I think about that story often. It’s a reminder that the heart—the one we use to care, to love, to connect—doesn’t close itself off because of suffering. It opens further. And when we allow ourselves to truly see, to really, deeply look at the people we serve, we find that what we give goes far beyond fixing or mending. It’s about creating moments of understanding, of connection.

Ashley Tyler

Nursing isn’t just about alleviating pain. It’s about embracing the whole of a person’s experience—the laughter, the tears, the fears, the small victories. It’s about standing in the presence of it all and, in doing so, seeing the beauty that comes with being human, even in suffering. When we let that guide us, we find strength, not in shielding ourselves from the hardships, but in embracing them with courage and compassion.

Ashley Tyler

As we wrap up today’s journey, I want to leave you with this: Nursing, caring, being present—it all starts with the smallest acts. This week, honor your need to pause, to see, to restore. Whether it’s through a moment of deep breathing, a kind word, or even just a gentle smile, remember this—your presence has the power to heal. Truly heal.

Ashley Tyler

And as you move through your days, let your caring heart be your compass. Let it guide you to those quiet moments of connection, the ones that remind us why we do what we do. Why we care. Why we serve, because nursing isn’t just a profession—it’s a calling, and each of you answers it in your own incredible, meaningful way.

Ashley Tyler

So let’s embrace that calling. Let’s meet the suffering, the joys, and the complexity of this work with compassion and grace. And with each step, let’s create spaces of healing—not just for our patients, but for ourselves, and for each other.

Ashley Tyler

Thank you for being here, for listening, and for sharing this moment with me. And that’s all for today. Until next time, take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.

Ashley Tyler

I'd love to hear more ideas about what you would like to hear.

Ashley Tyler

Until next time,