The first stirring came when I attended a day long multi-faith clergy gathering,and many men and women who attended wore collars. I found myself strangely comforted by their presence. I also felt strangely under dressed at the same time, even though I had cleared my ministry schedule for the day.
The second nudge occurred when in the course of a week, several of the female elders called me, "Sweetie." I love the fact that my ministry with SpiritCare is affectionate and caring. I would have it no other way. However, by the third "Sweetie," I found myself wondering if my male colleagues were being addressed in such a manner.
And then, I temporarily lost not one, but two of my stoles. Losing them was distressing enough, but replacing them seemed impossible. A good stole is surprisingly expensive. I already had the shirts and collars, so I just decided to start wearing them.
It was a bit awkward at first. Yet, the change did seem to mean something to many of the elders. Some of those who had consistently refused communion are now accepting it. The first month one female elder said, "Ah, a change." The second month she said, "I am grateful you are wearing your collar when you come to see us." She then really surprised me with, "I feel kind of comforted by it."
And then, there is the gentleman who greeted me with, "I hate your kind." We actually had a nice conversation afterwards, but he was quite serious and no, he has never attended a service. Too many people have been hurt by the church, and when you wear a collar, unless your intent is to deceive, there is no hiding who you are and whom you serve.
I have not been called "Sweetie" since then, and I can honestly say I do not miss that endearment. What I do embrace is that now I often hear, "Bless you, sister." There are still hugs and handshakes, tears and laughter; all the blessings that come with walking among the frail.
I am going to add another note here. Dear Mozelle, whom you all have read about before, does grow very frail now. She talks less, but is still affectionate. I saw her yesterday, and I was struck by her silence. When an elder with Alzheimer's passes, I often hear a family member say, "We lost her [or him] a long time ago." I know it is difficult, but if you have a loved one whose physical presence is diminishing, keep reaching out to him or her. Mozelle said yesterday, "I may not be Mozelle for long." No collar can hold back that journey. We declared our love for one another, and for God who brought us together. She is Jewish, but she has passed the point when she describes herself as such. She is transforming, before my eyes and heart, into pure love. I will never completely lose Mozelle. She has touched me deeply and has helped me grow into my clothes.
One of your most powerful yet. Up there with "the blue sweater".
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