Transfiguration

Rehab hospitals, also known as sub-acute or post acute, are very busy places, and I am still not clear how some elders end up living their last years in one.  Most of these hospitals, at least here in the congested bay area, dedicate every possible inch to their physical therapy areas. The allotment of space to dining and activity rooms (usually one in the same) comes in a distant second. 

      

When this re-dedication of space first occurred in one particular hospital, I was quite surprised to be escorted into a very small dining room.  However, at least they did keep the piano (unfortunately not always a given).  Every month Michael, one of the long-term residents, always makes room for me at his table so I can set up communion, and there is always some shuffling that needs to be done so the pianist can actually get to the piano and sit down. Fortunately, the windows in this room give a sense of expansiveness that the actual square footage does not.  We all adjust to make room for one another. Worship always happens.  Christ seems to not be concerned about space. 

Yesterday, as I was reading scripture, I looked up to see Mrs. Tran being brought into the room in her wheel chair. She greeted me with her usual wave and broad toothless grin. She was dressed in a white sweater and she had a white blanket on her lap.  As I waved back, I felt the pope was moving through.      

There is a love that emanates from this woman that her aging, tiny frame cannot hold. In her presence, I experience a sense of timelessness that eases any burden and I find myself lingering with her just to take in the peace. Her body is becoming irrelevant and I do not believe she is concerned much about that. Like in the story of Jesus' transfiguration, God is claiming Mrs. Tran. Also like Jesus, I think God always has.

    

There he was transfigured before them. His face shown like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light.

Matthew 17:2