Matthew 25:31-46
The Lady With The Lamp

Florence Nightingale.
I remember learning about her in elementary school.
She is considered to be the founder of modern nursing, improving survival chances from illness and injury through introduction of and insistence upon sanitation practices.
In her day, nursing was not a revered service. In fact, people usually enrolled in that work were impoverished, sometimes criminal. The elite family from whom Florence sprung not only thought the work beneath someone of their daughter’s station, they also found it to be unsavory.

Societal norms for the time suggested that Florence should marry some nice young man of promise. But that was not Florence’s plan and, in fact, she never married.
As I freshened my memory of her contributions, I am reminded of the exceptional human being she was. As much as, maybe more than, her education, knowledge, and medical accomplishments during the Crimean War, Miss Nightingale should be honored
for so much more. Yes, she was the Lady of the Lamp, walking among her patients at night, checking on their care. But she also should be held high in our esteem for her never-ending and near-ruthless battle with bureaucracy. Perhaps it was her greatest
battle, to improve organizational deficiencies that severely limited access to medical supplies and such necessary personal items as clothing and even toothbrushes. 
She never gave up when the care of her wounded warriors was at stake.
Today, the Church lifts her up for special tribute, and the readings offered are well suited to the purpose, especially the Gospel. In Matthew 25 we are reminded that those tenacious in the care of “the least of these” have a special place in God’s kingdom.
Surely then, we can expect Miss Nightingale to be there.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for nurses, which has much to do with the fact that my mother was a registered nurse.
Time and needs changed, though, and she gave up a profession she dearly loved to raise a family.

But in many ways she was always the nurse, tending to all manner of wounds, lifting
spirits as she went.
She had a knack for knowing the right thing to say to cheer someone on, or to motivate them to get up and try again. I don’t think she properly appreciated her gift, but I witnessed her doing this over and over. Saving lives, really, but without fanfare or
salute.
Like Florence Nightingale, she was a Matthew 25 person, serving “the least of these.”
In doing research for this piece, I just learned that Florence Nightingale lived to age 90,
despite battling poor health, both physical and mental. Weakened in perpetuity by a battlefield disease, many now say she also suffered from bipolar disorder, somehow managing the mood swings amidst helping others.
My mother’s own gifts played out from under a shroud of depression, though recipients of her loving wisdom likely did not know it.
They were wounded  healers, seldom aware of just how far and wide their gifts extend.
An excellent resource: Lytton Strachey, Eminent Victorians: Cardinal Manning, Florence Nightingale, Dr. Arnold, General Gordon. 1918.