Sister Salomeh and the Sisterhood of the Hug

Breaking the spell of self-centeredness

Another unexpected moment curated by the Creator. They all come with a certain feel. Hard to articulate, but undeniable in beauty, meaning, and cause for reflection.

I was in the waiting room where breast cancer patients were the norm rather than the exception. Thankfully, I was in the camp of the exception, waiting for a routine mammogram. Like entering another person’s domain, I was a guest. I could leave freely. Others were not so lucky. They were there waiting in anticipation, trepidation, or wishful hope. They might not be able to leave for long without coming back.

I sat down and got lost in my phone.

“You can come sit here next to me!” I heard her call to the elderly white woman at the complimentary coffee bar next to me. I hadn’t noticed them come in.

A slender African American woman in her late 50’s was seated in the distance, enthusiastically motioning to the woman with coffee. I took note of her stylish glasses and perfectly round afro that circled her face like a halo.

The gray-haired woman cheerfully obliged and made her way over to the African American woman. Were they together? I wondered to myself. I couldn’t tell if they were friends. After they exchanged pleasantries, I knew they were strangers.

They sat and after a short silence, the African American woman said, “You know, my husband brought me here and my family and friends are all close by. But when you are sitting here, waiting, you realize that you’re really alone…”

I immediately sensed her loneliness and fear, which seemed lost on the elderly white woman who, still in pleasantry mode, cheerfully acknowledged, “Yes, my husband dropped me off and is waiting for me downstairs too.”

After a few more pleasantries, the elderly white woman was called to her appointment by the nurse. She cheerfully wished her waiting room companion farewell.

A couple of minutes later, when the nurse returned, I heard the African American woman say to the nurse, “Excuse me, I know this is not in your job description, but I could really use a hug right now. Would you mind giving me a hug?”

My heart melted as I saw the nurse hug her. I immediately jumped out of my chair and approached her, waiting for their hug to finish. As soon as the nurse let go, I exclaimed, “I’ll give you a hug!” She was surprised, yet gratefully willing. I gave her a welcoming smile and the warmest, most reassuring hug I could muster. If nothing else, I know I am a very good hugger. Many people have told me so.

I hugged her with as much love as I could and was prepared to hug her until she let go. We were on her time. She received my hug just as warmly and we had a beautiful human moment. World peace could have been achieved with a lesser hug.

I bought this from the hospital gift shop the day I met Sister Salomeh

Like old friends, we stared deeply into each other’s eyes and began catching up on each other’s lives.

She apologized (why is it that women always have to begin with an apology, especially when reaching out to another human being for comfort?) and told me that she felt she was losing it. That she knew she should be stronger and have faith in Jesus, but that the devil gives her reason to feel despair.

I looked her straight in the eyes and told her not to worry, that God does not give a person more than they can handle, that she is not alone. God knows everything she is going through and, even if it is hard, that we must trust there is a reason, even if we don’t understand it. That God ultimately wants what is best for us, even if it means putting us through some hard challenges. But that God was with her, and I was there for her.

She was breathlessly relieved to find another soul sharing her space with divine intentions. “Thank you, that is exactly what I needed to hear,” she said. “I know what you are saying. You must have been sent to tell me these things.” We hugged again and she told me that her intellect was strong but her body was weak. That her mind was starting to play tricks with her.

“My name is Grace,” I began. “Tell me what’s happening…”

“And I am Salomeh,” she said with a smile. “Like Shalom, which means peace!”

I smiled and thought to myself, yes, and also like ‘Salaam’, which means ‘peace’ in Arabic. It is a word that Muslims say countless times per day, as a greeting to others.

I smiled back and it registered in my mind, “Ah, Sister Salomeh!”

She explained that she had been through this before - the diagnoses, the treatment, the surgery…and she didn’t know if she could go through it again. Sitting in that waiting room was bringing back all kinds of memories and triggers.

I sat and listened attentively. I wanted her to feel seen, heard, and acknowledged. It was clear she had been tenderized by hardship, another soul who had had empathy and sensitivity seared into them. Only those who have suffered from illness, either their own or that of loved ones, knows that terrain. It is an opening of the heart like no other. We silently connected on that familiar footing and bonded there.

She spoke for a while until she felt embarrassed for speaking too much. She stopped herself and then wanted to know about me. She wondered how an Asian woman came to faith, probably assuming I was Christian.

This is an increasingly challenging question given how Islamophobic our world has become. It is not easy to admit to being Muslim today. You simply don’t know how people will react. I don’t wear a scarf and I am not visibly “Muslim,” so sharing this personal detail can be a complicated choice.

My inner dialogue begins firing up. Four voices show up today.

Inner Skeptic: “Should you tell her you are a Muslim? Tread carefully. You know what could happen… That beautiful connection? Poof! Gone! She might start wondering what is wrong with you.”

Ms. Positivity, ever mindful of the right thing to do: “Oh come on! Look at this beautiful soul. Don’t jump to negative assumptions. Give her the benefit of the doubt! God knows our intentions. We connected in her time of need. We offered her our heart! She must feel how genuine we are!”

Voice of reason and measured optimism (twins, usually together, always the last to chime in): “And let’s be real. If anyone knows what it feels like to be unfairly judged, I am sure she does. She must have a sensitivity meter that can cut through the racism of Islamophobia. I think she can tell that she can trust us.”

Inner Skeptic: “Yes, but can you trust her?”

Ms. Positivity: “She is a woman of God. She believes. She must understand beauty, love, and kindness. I don’t think she will be scared if you sincerely tell her who you really are. She is vulnerable and trusted you with her story. You should honor her trust by giving her yours.”

Voice of reason: “And why should you hide who you are? You are showing her what it truly means to be Muslim - to be fully human, loving and accepting of another human being regardless of any label.”

Measured optimism:“Even if she is skeptical about Muslims, our kindness could win her heart over. Who knows how that goodness can multiply?”

“Okay, fine, I will trust her,” I told myselves. After all, God knows my daily mission to counter Islamophobia with beauty.

So I told Sister Salomeh an abbreviated - albeit the most universally relatable version -of my story.

“Well, actually, I am the first Muslim in my family, and I came to faith through books. I knew I always believed in One God, and set out on my faith journey when I was a graduate student in business school at Cornell…”

I told her that my parents were Taiwanese immigrants who wanted the American dream for me - to assimilate into white culture and achieve material success. Thank God, my parents gave me the gift of financial security, because it allowed me to go beyond the material to seek after meaning and purpose.

I told her that although I always believed in One God, I reasoned that I was neither Jewish (“I didn’t believe revelation stopped there”) nor Christian (“The concept of Trinity didn’t make sense to me”). But I couldn’t imagine myself “Muslim” until I started reading and studying — and became shocked to discover that the theology of Islam was everything I already believed. That we all believed in the same God…

Before I could explain much more, it was my turn to be called into my appointment. The nurse was waiting and for a moment, I wondered if I should just say farewell and wish her well. But it felt wrong to just walk away like that. I didn’t know what she thought of what I had shared.

“Should we keep in touch?” I offered.

“Yes, let’s do that!” she smiled.

Relieved, I gave her my card in a rush. “This is me. Please text me so we can stay in touch.” She said she would.

---

After our meeting at the hospital, I didn’t hear from Sister Salomeh although I thought of her often. I was a little bit sad. Then I became a little bit hurt. Then I started feeling a little bit bothered. I worried that maybe it was because I was Muslim. I hoped that fear did not win out over love. The insecure whispers from the darkness grew stronger and my mind started playing tricks on me.

Inner Skeptic: “See, I told you. You shouldn’t have told her you were Muslim. She probably thinks you’re crazy. Why do you always have to say so much?”

Ms. Positivity: “Stop that! We did the right thing AND we were true to ourself. We can’t control how others will react. That is on them!”

Voice of Reason and Measured Optimism: “You never know what is happening with another person. Don’t assume anything. Think positive and let it go.”

It took a while before I was finally OK to let it go. I accepted that I would probably never hear from Sister Salomeh again, but that I would be fine.

Truth be told, I didn’t file the memory away in the I feel good about it pile. Instead, I filed it somewhere between disappointment and failed attempts at beauty. I remember going to bed that night still a little sad.

Sure enough, as Divinity would have it, at the very moment I was certain it was what it was, God made it clear it wasn’t. I literally woke up the next morning to the following text message from Sister Salomeh:

“Hello Sister Grace. This message of gratitude is so long overdue. My sincere apologies. We met at the mammography center a month or so ago. Thank you for the hug and words of encouragement and kindness you shared with me when we met. It meant a lot to me for you to reach out to me the way you did. Praying in turn for God’s favor and blessing on your life. Have a super day!

I was at once so happy, so relieved…and then so ashamed.

It is amazing the spellbinding power of doubt and negative thoughts - the very convincing whispers of the darkness, where insecurity and hopelessness gain momentum. In an instant, with one text message infused with light, the spell was broken and simple clarity came.

How could I be so selfish as to think any of this had anything to do with me?

Sister Salomeh shared with me that, thank God, her news was all good and that she continued to give glory for it.

What an idiot I was for not seeing the obvious: She had been grappling with matters of her own life and death. She was scared and struggling. If she received bad news, what would have become of her life? Her family? Her children? Was her end in sight? Had she done everything she had wanted in this life? What more had she wished she could have done? How much time would be left?

The more I thought about it, the more ashamed I grew. I had forgotten the first rule of empathy, care, and humanity: put yourself in the other person’s shoes. I had only been paying attention to my own shoes.

Here I was, completely wrapped up in my own desire to convey what mattered to me, not her, and when I didn’t get the response I wanted, I was disappointed. Well, the world doesn’t revolve around me, now does it?

What a lesson. And on God’s time, not mine. So much learning to reflect upon…

In Islam, we understand that God will challenge us with all kinds of tests, big and small, throughout our lives. These tests are intended for us to learn, grow, and simply get beyond ourselves.

We also understand that God will test and challenge each of us with and through one another. Sister Salomeh confronted the very difficult test of illness. Yet I realize that as she was being tested, so was I.

It was not about whether she was Christian or I was Muslim. Or if she was African American or I was Asian. Or if she was ill and I was healthy.

It was about our capacity to be there for each other, sometimes as strangers, human to human in our time of need, feeling for one another, honoring each other’s dignity, and expressing gratitude. It was about learning how to truly be more selfless.

Most importantly, it was about connecting in love and kindness — and being ready at all times to enter and welcome new members to the Sisterhood of the Hug. Lord knows we need more members.

*****

May we all apply these lessons to Palestine and all those who are suffering around the world, in need of much more than hugs right now. Israel’s genocide of Palestinians is a test of monumental proportions for all of humanity.