C L O S L E R
Moving Us Closer To Osler
A Miller Coulson Academy of Clinical Excellence Initiative

The sacred art of care 

Takeaway

Let compassion guide your words and touch in every encounter. Kindness and empathy earn trust while facilitating patients’ healing. 

Connecting with Patients | January 6, 2026 | 2 min read

By Lucia Ponor, MD, Johns Hopkins Medicine 

 

“To heal is to touch with love that which we previously touched with fear.” —often attributed to Stephen Levine, author and poet on death and dying  

 

The other day, one of my patient’s caregivers asked me in a soft voice if she could hug me. I usually prefer not to be hugged, especially at work. But I got a warm hug that was so uplifting and genuine. No money can buy a gift like that, and no codes, billing, or AI can replace or define it. It was the highlight of my day. She said, “Thank you so much.”

 

“Thank you, as well!” I replied. It was truly a healing moment, and I was grateful. I thought I’d outgrown hugging, but it was a reminder of what we all need: a hug, or two. 

 

The year has just quietly closed, and I find myself thinking about the sacred act of healing. “Why only now?” I asked myself. Why do we so often reserve our thoughts of gratitude, forgiveness, and giving for this one season of the year?  

 

The Oxford English Dictionary defines healing as “the process of making or becoming sound or healthy again.” If healing is a process, then it’s not a moment—it’s a journey. It has a beginning, a continuation, and perhaps no true end. Healing isn’t just the restoring of the body—it’s the realignment of the soul, the softening of the mind, the return of the heart to its divine rhythm. And one doesn’t need to be a clinician to heal. A disease need not be present for healing to be necessary. You may be medically treated and still feel broken. True healing is harmony. Compassion belongs to healing. Forgiveness belongs to healing. Stillness belongs to healing. And above all, healing begins within.  

 

So, in this sacred season, I offer this gentle invitation to everyone: to share a warm cup of cocoa with a loved one, to create space for joy, and to let love flow freely through your hands and words. Be kind to the person who bags your groceries. Be gentle with your neighbor. Be patient with yourself. This new year signifies a beginning—a quiet rebirth of kind hearts. 

 

 

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This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.