The following post and photograph are from May 26, 2016, and they appeared on my Facebook page today. Both fit with my experience this morning when I served Communion in a community dedicated to memory care. The pianist could not join me, but even without music, several of the residents seemed to appreciate the simple service. I was grateful to be with them. The activity assistant seemed relieved just to be able rest awhile and take Communion. She is now wearing a brace on one knee - a reminder that the work in long-term care is not easy.
+++
Last night I dreamed of someone I know who resides in a skilled nursing community. In the dream I walk into a round white building. It looks to be a small church. I know I have been away for awhile, but I am welcomed into a discussion. As I settle in, I look out one of the windows that is just above where I am sitting. There I see Keith leaving, and I am hopeful he will see me. He does pause, and he smiles and waves. I return the wave. I cannot help but comment, "He looks great." The others agree. Keith walks on. He still has his cane, but his gait is easy.
I woke with the phrase, "Luke 15." This morning I see the story of the Prodigal Son, and I wonder if Keith has shed this worn-out life. His body and mind have been failing for awhile now. As I write this, I remember that he recently took Communion. I have known him for a few years, and he has always smiled and declined the bread and cup, saying, "He is with me." Yet, that day, something had changed for him. Afterwards, he told me a little of his childhood in Oklahoma. He seemed happy.
Last night I also dreamed that I am sitting with God on a valley floor. I have a sense the trek down had not been easy, but sitting there, although it was kind of dark, maybe like twilight or an early pre-dawn morning, I feel a sense of peace. I realize that the ground is level and that God is there. In the dream I think, "Oh, so this is what rock bottom looks like." I know I am safe. Not only safe; I am happy.
To serve Communion to those who are at the end of their lives is a profound, humbling experience. It is to witness an ancient love affair that is beyond time and knows no limitations. It is when I am at my simplest, and when I often witness the most. It is a feast on the valley floor.
"Quickly, bring out a robe - the best one - and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet... let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!"
Luke 15:22
I woke with the phrase, "Luke 15." This morning I see the story of the Prodigal Son, and I wonder if Keith has shed this worn-out life. His body and mind have been failing for awhile now. As I write this, I remember that he recently took Communion. I have known him for a few years, and he has always smiled and declined the bread and cup, saying, "He is with me." Yet, that day, something had changed for him. Afterwards, he told me a little of his childhood in Oklahoma. He seemed happy.
Last night I also dreamed that I am sitting with God on a valley floor. I have a sense the trek down had not been easy, but sitting there, although it was kind of dark, maybe like twilight or an early pre-dawn morning, I feel a sense of peace. I realize that the ground is level and that God is there. In the dream I think, "Oh, so this is what rock bottom looks like." I know I am safe. Not only safe; I am happy.
To serve Communion to those who are at the end of their lives is a profound, humbling experience. It is to witness an ancient love affair that is beyond time and knows no limitations. It is when I am at my simplest, and when I often witness the most. It is a feast on the valley floor.
"Quickly, bring out a robe - the best one - and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet... let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!"
Luke 15:22
No comments:
Post a Comment