Last night I dreamed that I was walking along a narrow desert cliff ledge that was located just below a railroad track. The situation was unnerving, but when I got to a bend and saw that the path grew narrower with a sharp turn upwards, I had to stop. A female companion was with me but I don't remember talking to her. I knew she would understand that I just might not be able to go further. I was very afraid. Yet, as I continued to pause, I began to believe that I could maneuver that narrow upward bend. I woke just as I was stepping forward.
The dream reminded me of a narrow road I traveled once a month when I first began in the ministry. I am including part of my first posting about that road. The original post is dated October 19, 2007 - day four of my time with SpiritCare, and about three years before I began putting everything on a blog. This resending marks the 500th posting of my blog. Some of you have been receiving emails from me since before my time with SpiritCare began. That is a lot of emails. Do not hesitate to let me know that you prefer to simply read the posts on the blog or on Facebook.
Another chaplain is now visiting this community. I do remember that tree; I often stood under it and listened to the frogs. They were good traveling companions, too. As are all of you.
I have grown more easy with the twists and turns, but I still call God and Tyler a lot. I would like to hear more frogs.
This week I met a beautiful bed-bound woman named Sadie, who asked me to pray the Lord’s Prayer with her. I followed her, and she missed a couple of lines, which of course does not matter, and it was so lovely to hear her pray. Afterwards she smiled and said, “Oh, I remembered. With you, I can remember. I have trouble remembering when I pray by myself.” She broke her back years ago, and I think she lives her life in bed in a perpetual comma shape. However, she asked me to pray for the people around her, for she was fine and happy. I went to a facility yesterday that is home to patients with severe dementia and mental trauma. The home sits on a hilltop. I had to drive up a windy road which sometimes gives me a sense of claustrophobia, and sure enough, claustrophobia was my traveling companion. When I got to the home, there was a large gate, so I knew that dementia was also going to be my traveling companion. The gate was opened for me. I drove in, parked the car, and I walked into the home. Sometimes, humanity slumps, and can’t quite get up again. One younger woman wore a helmet and pretty much stayed completely covered under an afghan that someone must have made. In my cheeriest voice I said good morning, but soon found I needed to step out into the nice, quiet garden out front. As I often do when I am confused and want to bolt, I stood under a tree. My mother died of complications from Alzheimer’s, so other traveling companions had joined me as well. I called Tyler while standing under the tree. I called God while standing under that tree. What I heard was that, of course, there is always a choice. I could simply get in the car and drive down that hill. That response was tempting, but truthfully, it did not seem to be a response that honored my chaotic traveling companions who seemed to be needing some attention. So I walked back in. The communion service was – well, for now, I shall call it uneven - but fortunately, there were three volunteers present and caregivers. And something happened during communion. We all calmed down. Some people smiled. A younger fellow who cannot speak and whose feet seem to have trouble taking him where he wants to go, helped me serve. One of the volunteers told me that he liked to help, and I am grateful for otherwise I would not have known. I loved taking the wafer from the small tray that was so tenderly held by those hands whose growth had been thwarted early in life. Even the man who periodically yelled out that he hated God grew silent and he had such a look of happiness after I placed the wafer on his tongue. And then, I followed the three volunteers down the hill to another community. They have been serving the ministry for a very long time, and proved to be wonderful guides. My own clamoring companions had grown quiet. As I drove down the hill, I reflected on the fact that the night before I had found my birth certificate. I may know why.
Blessings on the journey. With you, I remember.
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