At Sunnyside Retirement Community, the Rev. Dr. Cynthia Long walks the halls like someone who’s been there before. Not just in this building, but in the terrain of loss, love, confusion, and fear—the full emotional landscape of being human.
As lead chaplain, she serves a population of more than 550 residents. She comes with presence, and with an ear that knows how to listen between the lines.
Before Sunnyside, Long spent 12 years as a psychiatric chaplain at Western State Hospital in Staunton. There, the stories were raw: patients living with mental illness, addiction, homelessness—sometimes all three. Many came from jails and prisons. Others had intellectual disabilities. The staff was often overextended, the trauma ever-present.
Now, the work is quieter, but no less vital. At Sunnyside, spiritual and emotional needs don’t disappear with age. They evolve. Grief gets layered. Memory takes strange turns. Long is fluent in these shifts. She holds a Doctor of Ministry in thanatology—the study of death and dying—and is a certified grief counselor with over 30 years in human services and ministry.
Her background stretches wide: Lutheran pastor, grief support specialist, volunteer police chaplain, founder of a grief center, college professor. She’s written books on mourning, run marathons, painted abstract canvases, and coached high school athletes. The common thread? She shows up.
“We don’t ask, ‘What’s wrong with you?’” Long said. “We ask, ‘What happened to you?’”
It’s the heart of trauma-informed care—an approach that shifts focus from symptoms to story. Long is part of a growing movement in chaplaincy that reaches beyond religion and into the tangled spaces of mental health, crisis response, and end-of-life decision-making.
At Sunnyside, she facilitates weekly grief groups each quarter, offers residents up to three free counseling sessions, makes referrals to local clinicians when requested, and checks in on people who may not even realize they need it. She’s there for the families, too—the ones navigating guilt, distance, and the slow fade of someone they love. And when staff members face burnout or carry grief of their own, Long’s office is often where they land.
She doesn’t wait behind a desk. She moves. To the dining room. To the lake path. To a quiet bench. Her collar is rarely visible, and her ministry doesn’t need a pulpit. She makes space—wherever and however it’s needed.
“Crisis intervention isn’t just about emergencies,” she said. “It’s about being there. Every day. So when the hard moment comes, you already have trust.”
She runs daily, reads widely, and finds joy in friendship and dogs and messy art. Her theology, she says, is rooted in community. Not just the Sunday-morning kind.
She talks about death without flinching. She talks about love the same way. Her work is quiet, but not soft. She helps people hold what they thought they couldn’t carry.
For now, at least, she’s the one listening.
Watch the video clip here to learn more about her role at Sunnyside and how she helps guide residents, families, and staff through some of life’s most tender moments.
