We Together

"We must learn to complete in faith what we began in enthusiasm; we must learn to be true to ourselves; we must continue to become what we said we would be, even when accommodation to the immediate seems so much more sensible, so much more reasonable, so much easier." Sister Joan Chittister. 

We know compromise is often needed. That is why discernment is so important. Who am I in this? Who are we? Are we being "we" together?      
    

The Shape of Things that Are

Over the course of a couple of weeks, I have come across this prayer three times.  I think it is time to surrender.   

    

 

It is not you who shape God; 

it is God who shapes you. 

If then you are the work of God, 

await the hand of the Artist 

who does all things in due season. 

Offer the potter your heart, 

soft and tractable,

and keep the form 

in which the Artist has 

fashioned for you. 

Let your clay be moist,

lest you grow hard and lose 

the imprint of the Potter's fingers.  

 

Irenaeus  (ca. 125-202) 

  

 

Laughter

This morning as I pondered my rule, I realized there is an omission. There is at least one missing element, and that is laughter.  Without it, we would be sunk, brothers and sisters.   Therefore, I pass this friendly fellow on to you.  I wanted to get a picture of him without the fence, but to do that I would have had to walk up the front steps of the house where he resides.  The front door was open and I could hear the tv. I really try to not startle the neighbors.  On the other hand, the fence does seem to fit.  One of the things I have come to embrace about the practice of "eye phone" photography is working with limitations.      

  

Tyler was just telling me about a dog he met named Boris.  I think the name has stuck for this fellow.  

  

May you find beauty and laughter today.  If you cannot, remember to trust your tomorrows. Please believe that easier days are ahead.    

 

Rule

A book that I am grateful that I have held on to is Always We Begin Again, The Benedictine Way of Living, by John McQuiston II. McQuiston had been inspired by Esther de Waal's book, Living with Contradiction: Reflections on the Rule of St. Benedict.  During the weekend of his father's funeral, McQuiston had confided to an Episcopalian priest that "going to church" was proving to be less and less meaningful for him. The priest suggested that he read de Waal's book. As her writing "sank into his bones" he began to write his own rule.  

  

Over the past few weeks, I have been pondering my own rule, and even have outlined a general one.  I think I have come to this because of the realization that my willy-nilly style  of living needs some shoring up in the third part of my life. As I continue to serve those in long-term care communities, particularly those who are close to my age, I know I am not alone in this. I find it interesting that last night I dreamed that I was going to prison, but when I did not know.  I was, of course, concerned about this sentence.  Yet, after a couple of conversations and even dashing up and down a poorly lit street, I had a thought: that no matter where I went, I would go as a chaplain. "Well, if I must go, I will go as their chaplain." In the dream and in this moment, I find comfort in that idea.  It is akin to, "No matter where you go, there you are."  What is added is the belief that  I still have a role to fulfill. Whatever we must face in life, our choice is, do we  turn it into a prison or a monastery?    

I will be exploring McQuiston's rule and my own over the next few weeks.  For those of you who receive my reflections via email, do remember that they are posted on Facebook and my blog. If you prefer to not receive so many emails, just let me know, and I will delete your address.  Some of my rule may seem silly. While it probably is, issues of balance and flexibility are anything but silly.  As I outlined these steps, I realized I am, at heart, a simple person, and it is a waste of time to be anyone other than that.     

My Daily Rule   

Express gratitude

Stand on tip-toe 

Balance on one leg, then the other

Get down on the floor, and get back up

Pray and/or meditate 

Read a devotional

Gaze upon or listen to something beautiful 

Eat, and take delight in something fresh 

Share a meal with someone if possible

Make the bed

Take note of dreams

Honor responsibilities 

See God in all

Tend to another living creature

Forgive others and myself

Get fresh air 

Tidy something up 

Give away, recycle, or re-purpose an item no longer in use

Let someone know I am thinking about them  

Do something just for fun

Trust in tomorrow
Laugh

Bow and give thanks     

   

Blessings to each of you as you make your way through this world. You have been given unique gifts. Please share them.  I pray your compass will always bring you back to the Divine Presence that resides within. Know that you are loved and you do not travel alone; look for your fellow travelers and cherish them. Know what you value. Hold lightly, but do hold on.      

Hearing

As I left the skilled nursing community, I noticed three women carrying identical portable  stools.  I saw no instruments but I thought they must surely be musicians. We greeted one another and they confirmed they were singers.  At that moment I realized they were probably with the Threshold Choir, those generous souls who sing at the bedside of those whose physical lives are coming to an end. They confirmed that was their quest today.  We blessed and thanked one another. One of them then said, "We heard you singing."  I laughed and said, "Yes, the pianist who usually joins us is with family today. We keep going, though."  I hold on to a couple of sets of simpler song sheets just for occasions such as these.   

As I walked away, I thought that if I were at the end of my life, I would appreciate someone whispering in my ear, "We heard you singing. We heard your song." I honestly believe that would be enough. Carol, who now sits in the corner attached to  oxygen sang today. The energetic  activity assistant who at the moment was dressed in a grass skirt (getting ready for a luau party the next day) played tambourine and sang today.  Bob and Mary, both quiet, but who always seem to intently read the song sheets just might be singing in their hearts.  Doris, who is often very anxious and fidgety, did not sing, but her body grew still.  I heard them all singing, and every once in awhile, I thought I might have even heard their songs.     

 

Praise God with trumpet sound; 

praise her with lute and harp. 

Praise her with tambourine and dance...

Let everything that breathes 

praise God.

Psalm 150:3-4,6

A note on the the attached photograph: I took this picture while in a consignment shop in Mountain View.  The figure is painted on supple sheepskin.  I did not buy it because I could not imagine a piece of sheepskin hanging in our house.  Yet, her liveliness makes me smile and I am grateful for her praise. 

I Hear Music (or Maybe Not)

When I walked into a small memory care community last week, I was surprised to see George sitting in his room.  I peaked my head in and wished him good morning.  He looked up, smiled his crooked smile, and returned the greeting.  I could not help but ask why he was not in the activity room with the others.  "Oh, I am so tired of  that music. We get it all the time." I tuned my ear and heard strains of "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."  I had to agree with him; I would not care if I never heard that piece of music again. 

 

A deeper truth is that George did not feel well.  I figured this out when I invited him to worship, and he replied, "No, I think I will stay here. I will be able to hear you."  This sense deepened when later I later served him communion. Normally, he wants to receive the wafer in his hand, but this time, in the privacy of his room, he simply received it in his mouth.  When I stopped by one more time on my way out, he was sound asleep. I know he loves hymns, and I hope they brought him some comfort as he drifted off.    

Every once in awhile, I hear comments like the one George made.  I wrote earlier of the Viet Nam veterans who reside in a skilled nursing community. In the evenings they have a choice of either listening to big band music or sitting in their rooms.  I think of a recent visit with Sarah. She was so happy that a singer/guitarist  had recently come to perform his original songs in both English and Spanish.  She, too, is bilingual. Her body may be failing, but her mind is very much intact. "It was so good to hear something current.  We tend to get the same kind of music all the time. Besides, his Spanish was very good!"   

We all have read, heard, and hopefully experienced the healing powers of music.  Certainly, the pianists and other musicians who generously volunteer their time with SpiritCare enrich our ministry many times over. I cannot tell you how many times a piece of music has touched me deeply and given me strength.  Yet, as in all of life, no one size (or music) fits all. This may be especially true in skilled nursing, rehab hospitals, and convalescent homes where a wide variety of ages, health concerns, and cultures reside, work, and interact. My role is not one of entertainer, activity director, or anything else. I simply show up as the bearer of the news that God's love is for all.  I am grateful for the focus.  Yet, as helpful as one voice can be, sometimes a chorus is needed.  Please, join us when you can. No, you do not need to be a musician. Some of our most gifted volunteers come to simply be present.  I do my best to stay out of their way as their gifts of friendship and presence unfold. A sweet melody rises, and peace is given some room.     

 

With truth on our tongues, 

with gratitude as our friend, 

we are in harmony with the universe, 

as we hold hands with all the people. 

The chains of oppression are broken, 

the fetters of injustice unbound. 

The realm of Peace and Love shall reign. 

 

Psalm 149 

Nan C. Merrill 

Psalms for Praying 

  

Family

Last night I dreamed of standing on a porch talking to three women who are from Texas. In the dream, just before the conversation, I pick up an old style rotary phone and talk to an operator. I say something like, "I need to talk to West Texas."  A woman answers the phone and I gave her my name. She said, "You need to talk to Pauline."  Pauline's friend had recently died, and Pauline is grieving. I think I did wake for a few minutes, and when I returned to sleep, we are on the porch.  Also on the porch is a pianist sitting at a piano. He begins to play an incredibly beautiful piece of music with an almost other worldly tenderness. I watch him grow almost translucent. His eyes close.  After he finishes, the music seems to linger, and I fold my hands together and I thank him. I hug the women and they depart. The pianist (someone I know in my waking life) never speaks a word. This dream marks the first time I can ever remember hearing music in a dream. 

Lately, I have been thinking of grief, and its importance in our lives.  Important enough that I now think of grief as our mother.  When we grieve, we are born from her and through her.  This birthing, molding, dying, and being born again continues throughout our lives, and this process is how our lives are created.  When we try to deny her, all sorts of problems come up, including addictions and other behaviors that can do harm not only to ourselves, but to those who are trying to love us. Yet, it is not helpful to stay with her too long, either. Learning to live with grief is a delicate dance of holding and letting go. Fortunately, Mother Grief has sisters who can help guide us: Wisdom and Understanding.  They will help us find the way so we can be reunited with our dear sister Joy, and we will be able to walk with her a good long while.    

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 

Matthew 5:3-5  

  

When the journey seems long, 

when we become discouraged 

along the way, 

You uphold and sustain us, 

You restore us with your saving grace.     

Psalm 119, Nan C. Merrill 

Psalms for Praying