Practicing

Once a month I spend a few minutes with a physician who was born in India. She married a physician, and they lived and worked in several countries before coming to the bay area.  She was moved from assisted living to a memory care floor several years ago, and while I cannot say she is flourishing, she seems content.  After her move, I asked her how she liked living on the new floor.  She replied that it was okay, and then she added, "I believe these people live honestly."  I do regret not being able to talk to her more about her last position as a physician because it sounds intriguing, but she does not, or cannot speak of it.  Yesterday, I told her that I have been reading "Autobiography of a Yogi" and it has re-kindled a desire to see India.  She said that she sometimes misses India.  I asked her where she thought I should visit.  She looked at me for several seconds and then replied, "New Delhi.  I think there you will  see what you need to see. It has all of India."  She then added that she trained there.  We talked a little about yoga, and she said that she used to do yoga, but then added, "At a point you do not need your body to do yoga."  She is in a wheelchair, and moves very little.  I confess I silently prayed that I might be able to use my body for yoga for awhile longer.    

  

In the course of our conversations, she will repeatedly ask, "How are you?" This she did yesterday as well.  However, after about the third time of my telling her that I am well, she looked at me, paused, and then added, "Yes, I believe you are."  She did not ask after that, but until her health declines significantly, I know she will again. That is okay.  I think what she is saying is that she cares.       

  

As we sat in the quiet of the dining room (everyone else was watching a loud singing program in the living area), I felt such love for her, and I told her this.  She said that she loved me as well and she is glad I come to visit her. She does have dementia, so our conversations move slowly, but those of us who know and love people with dementia must never confuse slowness with a lack of depth. To sit in the presence of Love, and experience that light is a gift, and I pray I never take that for granted. Every once in awhile she will ask me, "Now what is it that you do?"  I tell her I am a pastor, but I could just as easily say, "I am one who is learning to love."  Maybe that is what the practice of yoga and the practice of ministry are really about: learning to live in love.      

   

   

photograph:  San Leandro, October 2019