Three messages

Janet usually leaves me three urgent messages during the night; two or three times a week. Sometimes there have been up to five. The content of her calls are pretty much about the same thing, which for her is very important. For me, well, I will often have to force myself to listen until the bitter end. I have learned to allow her to simply be herself, though I have had to put some distance, at least interiorly from her problems. For after all is said and done; I can only offer to listen and not much else, just to try to be there for her even if it does no good. She is caught in an endless cycle of anxious concern, over and over again, like being trapped on a circular highway with no exists. So all I can do is listen, say the right things and once in a while drop some advice that I know will do no good. Perhaps knowing this is what allows the relationship to continue, to simply allow Janet to be herself; as painful as that may be. I am powerless to change anything and in that is my freedom from entanglement that can be destructive to both of us. She is always afraid that I will get angry with her and in the past I have, but that was because I was trying to save her, or change her, which meant I lacked the faith of believing that in spite of all the darkness and pain, indeed God is a work in her life. I have seen it, how in spite of her deep anxious concern she tends to get what she needs, when she needs it.

When I start to lose patience and want to demand the impossible from her, I look inside at my own cycles that I am caught up in and have been struggling with all of my life and it helps me to get perspective. Demanding change in others is a way for me to try to reduce any kind of problematic relationships in my life. So I can become irrational and wonder why Janet simply cannot make an act of the will and change, conveniently forgetting my own shackles and my struggle with them. Willfulness is not the answer in any case since will power comes and goes.

I don’t like the word co-dependent since it is often used to actually control others through guilt; to get them to stop something that makes for discomfort. Yet the word is also useful for self reflection. I don’t think people come into anyone’s life to be saved, but perhaps to just simply be seen and accepted, without making ones peace and happiness dependent on their changing for the better. Those that stick are perhaps the ones that need to be embraced but not forced to change, or allowed to have a destructive effect on ones life. It is a balance that is in constant need of review since compulsive undertows are always at work. Perhaps it is the creative pull between truly loving and controlling that allows for growth. To draw back from the struggle can lead to other problems that could be more serious. Something has to shut down within if those who come into ones life that are needy and struggling are put aside, which is its own species of isolation.

Love is not controlling, seeking to change someone and getting angry if they don’t is a power play that is easy to fall into. None of us our saviors, yet by simply being there and allowing the other ‘thou’ to feel loved can permit grace to take hold. For in the end I know that I need mercy and grace and have benefited from it. Having others in my life demand that I change so that they can feel better has never helped me, so I guess it is safe to say that it probably never helped anyone else either.

The heart can only stretch when self knowledge is present to help avoid the pitfalls. Compulsive helping leads to disappointment, resentment, withdrawal and sometimes even to hatred and scorn for the one who will not play along with the game: “I help you and you change so that I can be happy about myself”. It does not work, we are each to unique, complex and if I may so, to screwed up for that to happen. Real change comes from deep within the soul, and at times this depth can hide some really powerful workings of grace.

Themes

The theme “the death to self” seems to come up in just about every religious tradition; it is called conversion, which implies a turning away towards something else. To change course, pursue values that are in accord with a life that lived that seeks God, or a spiritual path, for not all religions are theistic. Buddhism and Jainism come to mind. Though I think the term “atheistic” might be a little too strong to describe them in justice.

This turning away, not only describes a change of life and outer orientation, but hopefully points to a new relationship with the self. For instance to ‘treat others as you want to be treated’, is more than a pious statement, for to accomplish this precept, a certain level of self knowledge in knowing what one wants has to be present. It goes way beyond just being nice to others, not causing waves or embarrassing anyone. In fact, this precept could lead to treating someone harshly, or it could seem that way to the one receiving. I suppose the word ‘tough love’ could cover that. For instance, I now being normal (more or less, depends on who you talk to), could after a bit of contemplation come to the conclusion that in certain circumstance, for instances if I were to become psychotic, I would want to be taken somewhere for help. Though if this should actually happen, I would not think it good at all, not being in touch with reality. So the golden rule could call some to do some very painful things to someone that I love. And by doing so living out the golden rule; so, no, it is not about just being nice.

Also the injunction “to love your neighbor as yourself”, could also lead to some pretty interesting challenges for anyone who actually takes this seriously. Is it possible to actually love another, if in fact only self contempt is present for oneself? Perhaps, yes it is possible, but due to the fact that we tend to project outward what is unconscious, this could make relationships problematic and in fact many and perhaps most relationships are indeed very difficult. In the end, when things get rough, we treat others the way we treat ourselves. Perhaps when Jesus is talking about this “death to self” it is intimately aligned with love of self.

Death to what exactly, what needs to die? Perhaps it is good to look at what is the greatest obstacle people face in trying to live out their ideals; no matter what their faith is. Is it despair? Why is this strong temptation problematic to so many? I am here of course speaking only of myself and my own struggles, I cannot presume to understand how others process their experiences, not only with life but their inner relationship with self. However being human, more or less, I share communality with others, so perhaps what I deal with; others do also; though of course not all. I have met people who seem free of this inner tango that I go through, but I have also met many who are right there on the dance floor with me. Being neurotic allows one to have many like minded friends.

The inner voices (that’s what I call them) can become very strong and strident, compulsive and irrational; tending to surface when I am at a very low energy level and feeling weakest. They can be useful if listened too, observed but not believed. This can be very difficult, but once it is understood that thoughts are not ‘me’. But tapes, or if you want to use a Jungian term, complexes, that sort of have a life of their own. Stuck in an endless cycle of self inflicted suffering and recrimination. Voices from the past made ones own. Perhaps a death to self, would point to the necessity of in some sense befriending these ‘inferior and immature personalities’ that live within. At least they live in me, a whole village it seems at times; a mob demanding my attention, not all of them looking out for my good.

Fantasies can be addictive, even the painful ones. So to break free, to observe, listen, and yes to even have love and compassion for them, is at least for me the only way to unravel them. It is a paradox, listening quiets them, puts them to rest, though of course not totally, for it is a life long process this relationship with the village within. It can at times be difficult to step back and simply observe, yet that is what is needed. These inner voices once known are no longer projected outward towards others, so relationships can become easier. Since again, we treat others the way we treat ourselves when things get rough. “Love of self” can be difficult, but a necessity, for only then can love of neighbor be truly accomplished.

It is easier of course to not deal with these inner complexes, but the fruit of this kind of life is not very tasty and for many is a downward spiral. To cling to this ‘life’ is in reality a prison refusing to open up to loves invitation of a loving relationship with self, others and of course God. Sometimes it takes the courage to simply ask for help and then with support to allow this ‘death to self’ to take place. Perhaps shedding would be a good term, to out grow a life that is too small for the developing soul to live in.

 

Agnes R.I.P.

The call came on Saturday morning at 6: AM. I knew what it was about before I even got to my cell phone and answered. Hospice was calling, letting me know that Agnes died a few minutes before; peacefully I was told. I was hoping to be able to be there with her when she died and I did tell her I would try, even though at the time I knew that the chances were slim that would happen. I guess it was good news that they did not call me, for that meant that she simply slipped away without any kind of struggle or distress. They have medicines now that help keep the bodies distress down, which also helps with the breathing, so there is often very little struggle at the time of death. She really needed only slight sedation, for thankfully her brain cancer did not give her painful headaches.

I saw Agnes for the last time the Wednesday before her death. She mostly slept but would open her eyes every once in a while and look at me. She gave me very little response when I spoke to her but she seemed to know it was me, for she gave me a little smile. She was so still, something she was not good at while healthy. She had a beautiful laugh that would carry, well, just about everywhere. She was a tall woman, very beautiful in her youth but as the years flew by she gained quite a bit of weight, but her vibrant personality was always intact. So now all of that was missing; death takes away everything.

She was not perfect and had her share of inner conflicts and wounds that she struggled with all of her life I guess. At least she did for the 20 or so years that I knew her. She had a tendency to push people away whom she did not think were supportive of her, often forgetting that perhaps her friends might need her to just listen to them once in awhile. She was not malicious in this; it was just a part of her personality that she struggled with all of her life. To her credit she always fought it, though she did not always have much success. She did stick it out with her father (who from her account, gave her very little attention or care) and did what she could for him until his death; which cost her, but in the end thankful that she did not push him out of her life.

About 9 months ago she called me saying that she did not want to talk to me anymore because I was not supportive of her. I was not surprised for I knew it would happen sooner or later, for I could not always support her in ways that she wanted to be. What brought it on was something I said to her twice. She had a friend who was robbed and shot in the face. So he was having a great deal of trouble adjusting back to a normal life, which should not surprise anyone. So I recommended that when calling her friend that perhaps it might be best to just listen to him, support him and not talk about her troubles, which by the way were many. She did not understand and felt I was not listening to her, so I was another one placed outside of her life. I had mixed feelings, though there was some relief, for she did make a lot of calls to me which I had to listen to. There was also sadness, since I knew that slowly she was isolating herself, but I let it go, there was nothing to do. For I knew that in the end it was fear that drove her, something I have some knowledge of. For anger, one of my greatest struggles is rooted in fear.

She called me back three months ago and filled me in on her cancer and how long she had to live. So we reconnected and I was glad that we did. As we talked I asked her to please not push me away again, but if I should say anything that she felt was off putting, to just bring it out in the open so we could talk about it. She had only a few weeks to live and during that time, perhaps it would be good to try to not to isolate herself again.

I wanted to go back and see her the Friday before her death, but I had some kind of cold with a fever and did not want to endanger anyone living at hospice. As a result I planned on going in on Saturday, since by Friday evening I was feeling better. So that never happened and I am a little sad about that. On my last visit I only stayed for half an hour, was restless actually and found it hard to sit in a dark room with someone who was dying. So I left early. I don’t like to come face to face with my limitations for they are many and this is a time when I saw that I in fact have little to give. I guess all I can do is to continue trying.

I felt honored that Agnes called me backed and welcomed me to walk with her on her last mile. She was very fearful at first and could not believe that her end was so close. Then some peace came and finally she told me that she was at peace and she could feel God was near. She got to be reconciled with her daughter, whom I met, and she is a lovely woman. I am so thankful that I did not have to call her after her mother’s death, for now that I have met her, I know that she would have been devastated by that. She loves her mother warts and all and we had a couple of good talks a bout her.

How do you sum up a life? You can’t, at least I don’t have that ability. It is hard to think of her not being here. I feel that old familiar inner void that comes with a death and I think quite possibly I am mourning more than I know. For I am not really in touch with some of my feelings, they stay hidden only poking out once in a while. I hope before I die to be able to have access to them more readily. I suppose it is fear that keeps them at bay. I sometimes think there is an ocean of unfinished mourning inside of me, not bottomless but deep none the less and as I age and lose more friends and yes family, for I have many brothers and sisters (unless I go first), I often think that inner ocean will only deepen. I think something many can relate to.

Bye Agnes, where are you now? My faith says one thing, and I believe that. My doubts say another thing and I am not sure I believe that at all……strange, so many different things can go on in the human soul, seeming to be at odds, yet perhaps not. I like the unknowing it keeps things open ended. For me, doubt points to something more, not to some form of reductionism that seems so popular today. You were a mystery to me Agnes and mysteries unlike my inner ocean, are bottomless. Perhaps in that way we are made in God’s image, nameless, without form, beyond space and time, eternal. No label can contain you Agnes for you are 63 years of a mystery, a deep awareness, who suffered, loved, laughed, cried, fell and got up over and over again. Yes a work of art whose name only God knows. I hope that you are rejoicing in that name my dear and well loved friend and that your beautiful laugh fills the hallways of heaven.

Another trip to hospice

Another trip to hospice (Agnes) On Saturday, the 14 of November, I went in for my second visit to see Agnes and to also meet her daughter; let’s call her Joan. I was a little nervous about meeting her because I had talked to her the day before and she was really upset about not being called about her mother’s condition. Even though I filled her in about mothers’ very strong request that she was not to be notified until after her death. I could tell over the phone that she loved her mother and really did not understand what was going on. My first impression of her was a good one. She was tall like her mother and very beautiful. She had a lovely smile and she gave me a warm embrace after she got up to greet me. She then introduced me to a friend of hers who lived in the area and came over to see if there was any way she could help out. I then sat down for a few minutes with Agnes to see how she was doing. She was in twilight consciousness, in and out, but she did recognize me and smiled when I took her hand. I then asked if I could talk with the daughter for a few moments. They have a beautiful garden outside with a fountain in the middle and some small benches. We sat at the fountain and talked a bit about her mother, her request and the why of it all. Joan was a critical care nurse herself and while there helped in taking care of her mother and which I could tell meant a lot to her. She told me how happy she was to have reconnected with her mom, in fact she was the one who did the searching when she was in her early twenties and they reunited in ninety two. They spent almost every Christmas together and always had a good time. However it was all about Agnes, but the daughter understood how her mother struggled with her inner pain and accepted it. Well until she had her first child and was a bit overwhelmed with it all. Agnes has trouble understanding the needs of others, though there is no malice involved, it is just how she is. So when the daughter asked for some space to recoup, Agnes interpreted that as rejection and withdrew. It seemed that they both wrote letters to each other but they remained unsent, such is the nature of family quarrels. She was hurt about her mother’s initial wishes about her notification but was happy that she was in fact called. She was better than she was when I last talked to her over the phone and was happy to see it. After we talked a bit I asked her if she wanted to receive the Eucharist. I brought it for her and her mother but she was not able to receive, so I asked if her friend would like to receive also. They both did. We prayed and I gave them the sacrament. I also got her in touch with Judy’s lawyer and they were going to meet at her house so she could get some mementoes. Before I left she asked me to talk to the head nurse to see if one dose of Ativan could be skipped so she could talk to her when she was more alert, for she was leaving on Sunday and knew this was the last time she would see her mother alive. I asked the head nurse to skip a dose if it would not be too hard on Agnes and she agreed to do that. So I left very glad that Joan was more at peace and that she had this time with her mother. I shudder to think what it would have been like if she did not have this time with her mom. I will be going back on Monday evening to spend some time with Agnes, perhaps all I will be able to do is to simply set with her and pray for I don’t know how present she will be, for her diminishment is speeding up. I am very happy that she is in no pain and that I will have the honor of spending some time with her. For all of her problems and they were many, Agnes never stopped trying to get better, and even though she perhaps failed to achieve what she was after in the way of inner health and balance, I feel that her life was not in vain and that in her very struggle resides her greatness. For it takes courage to deep on striving, in the not giving up, even if the progress sought was not achieved; well least on the level that I could see. Since I believe in God and in Christ Jesus, I believe that God’s grace is ever at work in the secret depths of the soul and that Agnes’s progress is perhaps much greater than I can understand or perceive. I will try to be there with her when her time comes, but in any case she is surrounded by the love of those who care for her in hospice; her daughters, her lawyer who is also a friend and last of all me. She is not alone and she knows that at last.

A reunion

 

A reunion

In late October, about the 23rd, I got a call from Agnes’s lawyer letting me know that she was very confused and that perhaps it was time to have her moved to hospice. He is her financial power of attorney and I am the medical. I was glad to hear from him and after I talked for a few minutes, I was very thankful he was on board with this. He is a very caring man and is also a friend of Agnes. While he does take care of her legal business, he also does some work for her without charge. He has done this with more than a few of his clients, who were walking their last mile over the years, so he knows how to go about it. I was very relieved, for Agnes did not go into detail over all that he did for her besides the lawyer work

I was getting ready to go see my family in Texas and I was worried about her being on her own and perhaps dying alone while I was away, for when she was first diagnosed she was given only two months to live. It was past that date, but from her confused condition (according to her lawyer) it could be soon. So I was in some ways relieved that we were going to facilitate her moving into a hospice facility.

That evening I went to her apartment and she did seem confused, though she looked strong, for although she had lost a lot of weight (she being overweight), she looked pretty good. However she was frightened and confused and nights in her apartment were scary for her. Also hospice was sending people in to care for her, but there were so many that it only made her more anxious. I helped her to fix some pictures for her daughter, got some of her paper work in order, though it was difficult, she is not the most organized person. Then I went out and got her some dinner at McDonald’s, one of her favorite places. Her lawyer came and took her credit cards, since they could be easily lost or stolen in her confused state. We then arranged for someone to come and stay the night with her. The next day she was put in hospice. At first, the nurse that came in that evening to evaluate her did not think she would be admitted into the actual care facility but into the residence section for observation. They have limited space, so one has to be at a certain level of acuity before they can be admitted. I had almost no doubt that in a week’s time she would be ready for admittance. If not, the lawyer thought it would be best to put her into assisted living, for her apartment would be too dangerous for her to go back and live in. So I was able with some peace of mind to go for my family visit, which by the way was very pleasant for me.

After about a week into my trip I called the hospice nurse that was in charge of her case and found that she was admitted into the facility. I called her a couple of times and she seemed at peace though of course confused. She forgot that I was not in town each time I called but over all the conversation was pleasant and to the point. I came back on the 8th of November and she was still alive, though I could no longer contact her by her cell phone. I was told that she could no longer walk and spent much of the day sleeping, though she could still remember people. I also found out that one of the hospice volunteers contacted her daughter which she forbade me to do, even though I brought it us a couple of times. I was happy about that since the daughter seemed to want to come down and see her and Agnes seemed pleased.

I went to see her on the 13th at the hospice in which she was staying. It is considered one of the best in the city and I was impressed by what I saw. She had a nice room that had a cloistered garden outside her room so that her bed could be pushed out into if she so desired. She was of course in her bed when I first went in and she seemed happy to see me. I sat with her for a while and held her hand. Or allowed her hand to rest on mine, which would allow her to remove it when she so desired. We talked a bit and she told me that she was at peace and no longer afraid. Also she said that God seemed close to her. She also told me that she was glad that her daughter was coming down to see her. As we were talking my phone rang and from the area code I knew it was her daughter calling me back. I left a message on her home phone to call me if she could.

It was a good conversation. She seemed to love her mother very much and was devastated about the news of her illness. She told me a few years back she was going through a very trying time and because her mother can be very difficult, some words were said that caused pain on both sides. She told me that she tried to write a letter a few times but could not send it, now she was overwhelmed with regret, but was also happy that she found out about her mother’s condition. So she is coming down on Saturday and I will go in to meet her and maybe take her out to lunch, though most likely she will want to spend all her time with her mother. I took my phone in and put the speaker phone on and they had a few words that cemented the relationship back together.

After a loved ones death, if there was some rift, only the love and regret remains. Agnes only being 63, I guess the daughter thought she had time to get back in touch, thank God she did. Also I am very happy I did not have to make that call of notification, which is what Agnes wanted me to do, I can’t even imagine the pain that would have caused her daughter.

First visit Agnes

First visit (Agnes)

Agnes gave me directions to her apartment in Decatur; a town right outside Atlanta. I had some trouble finding her address because few of the buildings in that town seem to want to place numbers on their facades. She lives in a building that is set up to help take care of the elderly. Assisted living they call it, but in order to live there you have to be more or less independent. The building has seen better days, yet it gives the residents a safe place to live. Agnes seemed to one the younger ones there, she being only 63 years old. When I got out of the elevator on her floor, the first thing I saw was an area set aside for communal computers, four in all. An old man was seated in front of one of them; he seemed about 80 or so. I said good morning and he returned the greeting and we did a bit of small talk. Then I proceeded to Agnes’s apartment.

Her living quarters were small, but good for someone who lives alone. There was a kitchen on the right as I walked in. On the left a bathroom and across from that a bed room that was larger than the living room. When I first saw her, I was shocked for it has been at least a year since I have seen her. She looked weak and a little shaky. On the way to see her she asked for an ‘Egg McMuffin” from McDonald’s and a large iced coffee with two squirts of Hazelnut. I also brought her some extra ones and put them in the refrigerator. She has a small cat that lives with her, young, less than a year old. So we sat and talked for a bit. I brought the Eucharist and asked if she would like it now or later just before I left. Since she is very ill she is not bound by any kind of fast. She wanted it first so we prayed a bit and I gave it to her. God comes to us in the most humble intimate ways, for me the Eucharist brings that out in a profound way.

So we ate and I actually found the breakfast sandwich very good and could understand why Agnes liked them so much. She was able to only eat one, her appetite is diminishing rapidly and she has begun to lose weight. I was not worried, because the apartment looked unkempt, for she was never a good housekeeper. What concerned me was how it looked confused. Things scattered around with no order whatsoever. I asked her to show me her ‘Hospice medicines’. “They are in my bedroom” she told me. So I went in but could not find them. She had a concentrator near her bed but it was not set up which caused me some unease as well. I finally found her hospice meds in a corner by the head of her bed pushed up against the wall. There was no way she could have retrieved them herself. So we sat down and looked them over. There were meds for her eyes, some white pills in two different plastic envelopes. One was for anxiety and the other for nausea. There were also some suppositories that she could use for anxiety, which she told me she would not be able to use. There was also some ‘Morphine’ in liquid form, which she could use if needed for pain. I think the hospice nurse talked with her about the meds, but Agnes did not seem to remember. Again if she took too much it could confuse her even more and participate a fall. I showed her how much Morphine she needed to put in the dropper if it was needed. She was having some trouble breathing so I asked her if she would like to try some, since it was prescribed to relieve any breathing difficulty. She said yes and I gave it to her under her tongue. The white pills worried me because of her confusion, though it was not severe. The Ativan was the smaller pill and was for anxiety; the larger ones were for nausea. So I tried to tell her the importance of always reading the label before taking anything. As we talked I became more and more concerned and told her about my worries about her safety living there by herself. I asked her if I could call her hospice nurse and she said yes. So I made a note to myself to call the Nurse on my way home.

We talked about her going into hospice and I made the point that she needed to call her nurse if she started to have any kind of serious difficulty. Not sure she really understood what I was driving at. So I did not push it. She cried some and we talked. I told her that I would try to be there for her when she passed, though if in the interim she found someone else to please feel free to let me know. I wanted what was best for her. She was in charge and was the one to make choices in how and with whom she wanted to make this journey with her. I don’t want her to think she owes me anything at all. I did ask her if I could contact her daughter after she passed. She was open to that but was too afraid of more rejection if she tried to reach her while she was alive. So I did not push any of that. I asked her is she loved her daughter and she said yes. When I contacted her daughter I told Agnes, I would tell her that she was loved by her mother. She agreed and seemed happy about that.

It was soon time to go and I really felt bad about her still being her apartment all alone. So we gave each other a big hug, I told her that I loved her and would not abandon her no matter what. She again cried. “Agnes I said; close your eyes, and believe that my arms are the arms of Jesus holding you. That you are loved and cherished more than you know”. Then I said, also the arms of Jesus are holding me, she laughed a little at that. So I left with a heavy heart. The man was still at the computer, I think he was just lonely and lived by himself in his small apartment like Agnes. He asked me how she was doing and I said that she would most likely move into Hospice soon. He nodded his head like this has happened many times before.

I called her Nurse and left a message for her to call me back. She did soon after I left Agnes’s apartment and we had a nice talk. I told her who I was and that I was Agnes’s friend. I let her know my concerns, especially about her meds and her confusion, though not severe, I felt was putting her in danger. The nurse listened and took some notes and told me that she would call me after she saw Agnes. She did say that Agnes cancer was far advanced and that in any case she would soon be in a hospice facility in Atlanta in the Buckhead area. It is a very nice part of Atlanta and the Hospice there has a very good reputation. I was very happy about that. Rose, the head nurse here, used to work at that facility and liked it very much. Before I hung up I let the nurse know that Agnes was going to put my name on a list that I could be kept abreast of her condition; which made the nurse happy.

One of Agnes strong points, apart from her other emotional problems is that she wants the truth spoken to her. It just has to be in a way that does not make her feel judged or looked down upon. She is also changing in little ways. She told me that she had a run in with one of the residents and that she called and made amends. Something she would not have done in the past.

Before I got home, she called me and said that another resident there has brain cancer and told Agnes that she needs a second opinion, also that she needs to fight it. At first I thought she was agreeing and I encouraged her to do what she thought was best. Soon however I could see that it was the opposite that she wanted to do. After awhile I found out that her neighbor’s brain cancer unlike Agnes had not spread to other parts of her body. Agnes started with lung cancer which spread to her brain, stomach, neck and of course lymph nodes, the super highway in which cancer can spread. All I told her was that there was no right way to do this. It was up to her and her neighbor just thought she was being helpful. So try not to be angry about it if she could. She seemed to calm down and said goodbye.

We came together for a reason those many years ago. I can’t say we are friends in the usual sense of the word, but I feel connected in a deep way and also respect her for trying to overcome her past. She as two months, perhaps less now of course, but in that time I feel that some deep healing will happen. As we talk I mentioned that she may be going over her life and to not be afraid of whatever comes up, it is all good, something needed by some people before they die. Also if she starts to see ‘things’, her family members long gone, or even beings that are just light, then that is also normal, she is not going crazy and to trust the experience.

No one should have to go through this alone that is one thing I feel deeply about. Though if truth be told, I am not even sure what my motives are in doing this, or in doing any kind of care giving. I am a mixed bag. So there are ‘grey’ areas that are mixed with those that are ‘white’ and I don’t think it matters. Before God I don’t know what I am, for of all the mysteries the one about me is the greatest. I suppose the more I figure myself out, then perhaps the deeper I am able to understand others. If I see selfish motives, or ego embellishing ones, well I smile and treat them as unruly children that need to be tolerated lovingly as long as they don’t take control. All I can do is to ask God to use me then drop it.

Don’t be afraid to respond if asked to accompany a friend or family member on their last mile; it is an honor, as well as a life changing experience. Dive in even if there is fear; be honest, open, and truthful. Talk about what is most important to the one being accompanied. Drop the bull shit, the small talk, the little lies that both parties do in fact know what they are, just a self serving way to talk about anything but the truth. Those dying will not impose on others if they feel fear is present, yet it can also cause them great loneliness and feelings of isolation if there is no one they can relate to on a gut wrenching honest level. It does not matter that their can be inner division, just do it, seek to love and lift up. I guess as a Christian all I can say is leave the grace of the moment to God, and just step out in faith. Those from other faith traditions will have their own way of doing it, just do it, which is the main point. Again no should have to go it alone, we will all need to be accompanied when the times comes, or perhaps birthed is a better word. Reach out take that hand, it is all worth it. The gift of loving is not a crown, or gold filled streets. No the reward of love is to simply more love. The heart has the capacity to expand eternally, a very worthwhile journey, if one chooses to respond to the invitation.

Lunch with Agnes

 

Lunch with Agnes

While I do call Agnes often to see how see is doing and I also get updates from her Hospice nurse, I was not prepared with how much she has declined when I picked her up at her apartment complex to take her to lunch. I noticed over the last few weeks while talking to her over the phone, that she was getting confused over her schedule and even asking me what day it was. We had also planned to go to the aquarium here in Atlanta but she called me up to cancel, which was really not too surprising. For with her deepening weakness and confusion, visiting a place that is large and very noisy would be very difficult for her.

She looked nice when I picked her up. She is not traditional in her taste for clothes. They tend to be more like colorful robes than dresses and she looks good in them. She is also losing weight, not too noticeable, yet because I know her and I have not seen her for a few weeks, I did notice. Three weeks ago when I last saw her she was much stronger. This time I had to help her into the car and she was a little confused on how the seat belt worked. I noticed that she was also having more trouble breathing. She was not to clear on direction to the restaurant, but thankfully I knew the way and got there without incident. The restaurant is her favorite place in Decatur. It is small and the food is very good. I parked and helped her walk to the entrance. She is now very unstable on her feet and I doubt she can walk very far by herself without falling.

She was in a happy mood however and we had a good time. We started off with a dozen oysters each and then ordered our main course. We both got the same thing this time. Tilapia with plantain and rice and beans and I had hot tea, she ordered a diet coke. We talked about different things, her health of course but it was not the main thing. She conversed about her friends, her will and the monies that she was going to leave to her daughter. She plans also on sending me some addresses for people for me to notify when she dies, her daughter being one of them. They are still estranged and Agnes is too afraid to try to get back in touch, she fears more rejection. Emotionally she has had a very hard life and is very sensitive to negative response of any kind.

Since I paid for lunch last time, she insisted on paying for the meal, which I agreed. We will take turns paying. She used her credit card and when she was trying to figure out the tip she asked me if $55 dollars was a good tip. This shocked me, for her confusion was deeper than I thought. So I explained that $11 dollars was a good tip. Then she had trouble signing the slip, so I showed her where to sign and she could barely do that. I explained to the owner why the slip was so sloppy and she understood. Agnes did not really know she was confused at that time. So I figured that she was tired out and took her home. I walked her up to her apartment and one of the hospices nurses was there waiting for her. I asked Agnes’s permission to speak frankly with the nurse and she said yes. So I relayed how confused she was at the restaurant and her struggle with breathing. She now has portable oxygen, so next time when I come to take her out, I will come to the room and get her, making sure she has her tank in tow. As I was leaving, I saw her lay down in her bed and roll over and fall fast to sleep. For some reason this made me very sad and it stayed with me in my drive home. I also think this will be the last time we can have lunch out together.

She is alone; she really has no one close. One daughter her only family and they are not speaking. She does have an attorney friend who is also taking care of her. He does charge for certain services, but he does many others without charge. I talked with him and was truly happy that he is in the picture. I am going for a home visit this Sunday and felt bad about leaving Agnes since I promised that I would try to be there when her time came. She is living longer than her two months and this trip was planned a long time ago, sort of a family reunion of sorts. We had a long talk over the phone and he said that he has been journeying with the dying for over 30 years and if possible would be there for Agnes if she dies during my vacation.

The hospice people are very good and very easy to work with. I noticed her apartment is cleaner and I suppose that the hospice lady who comes in to do laundry has gone beyond her assigned tasks and helped clean Agnes’s apartment. In any case, it won’t be long now, all any of us can do is to simply try to be there for her and show her love and compassion.

Alone

The process of dying,
the knowing,
no denial possible,
is a no-man’s land,

an enlightenment of sorts
that no one wants,

causing isolation,
for fear
is the killer of sharing.

Agnes revisited

Agnes revisited

I got a call this morning; it was Agnes who needed to talk. In the message she stated she was having an anxiety attack. So I called her and we talked for awhile. She is seeing her doctor today at 1PM for the final prognosis of her cancer. Which does seem to be good, for it is already in her brain, lymph nodes and stomach, so over the last year her internist mentioned that is has spread very fast. Last year she got a clean bill of health cancer wise. She has to decide if she wants to attempt chemo or simply go into Hospice as her internist advised her to do, for she lives alone.

So her day is going to be a heavy one, frightful, and she feels all alone. She mentioned to me that some of her friends whom she called have not called her back. I told her to not be too hard on them since many people don’t know how to react to such news and it brings up some of their own unconscious fears of death and disease. She is angry of course and I encouraged her to not be afraid of the emotion, to let it out, pray it through for she is already transparent before God, so to just be herself before God.

As we talked, I told her that I loved her and even though we had our ups and downs, and that I did not always understand her (she laughed when I said that), I would always be there for her to the best of my ability. Also to let me know if I say something that offends her or pushes her in ways she does not want to go. To not wait a few days before she tells me, for she is going though enough as it is, so to please be blunt with me, it will not affect our relationship.

I have worked with a lot of people who were dying in the past. Yet they always older than me and it was simply a part of my job; though I loved doing it. However she is only a few years older than me and we have been in contact off an on for the last 20years. She the same genus, but a different species entirely in trying to help her in what is most likely her last few months of life.

I did mentioned one thing to her. When she is feeling very frightened or scared, to unite herself with all those over the world who are going through the same thing and to pray for them, for indeed she is not alone in this, so it feels very much that way.

I can have compassion for her, but since I have not yet entered the territory that she is traversing she needs to understand that at times I may not understand the depth of her emotions and to please be patient with me. I am human and have very deep limitations when it comes to having empathy for others.

So I pray for her and I am mourning in a way I have never done before. How deep I do not know, for our relationship has really been me as a caregiver of some sort, for her emotional life is bumpy to say the least and has caused her much suffering over the years.

Also I tend not to be deeply in touch with many of my emotions, a very slow growth process for me.

Yes she is with Christ in Gethsemane, asking that the cup be taken away, yet most likely it will not be, a place were many will find themselves at some point in their lives. For we are pilgrims after all moving toward our point of departure.

A child

Like a child she is when she talks;
“I am so afraid she says”,
all I can say is:

“I know Agnes, I know”,
then she says,
“I am so angry”
and I say,
“I understand Ages, I understand”,

There is a stirring in my soul
not there before
so perhaps I am becoming a child also
after all these years.

“Pray” I say,
“Christ is united with you,
you are in Gethsemane,
the chalice you may have to drink”,
She replies,
“I know, Oh God I know”.

“I feel alone” she says,
“I know ages I know”
my return comment
unable to give comfort:
“God is with you
your feelings and emotions real,
Yet God is with you”.

“Be yourself,
express yourself Agnes,
allow whatever needs to arise
to surface,
this is an important time,
hard,
lonely,
perhaps isolating in some ways,
but you are being drawn into a deep mystery;
just do not despair of God’s love,
the most sure thing there is.

God is always yes.

Christian failure

Christian failure

There are many ways to fail when trying to walk the Christian path.  I am of course speaking from my own struggles, failures and experiences with my own thick bullheadedness, when trying to deepen my own walk with Christ Jesus.  I also understand that when we share our lives with one another, there are limitations of language, as well as the life experiences of those who listen.  It makes communication very difficult to say the least and often frustrating.  There are no straw men in this world, though they are often created when talking about ‘others’, or when those ‘others’ talk about me or just Christians in general.  Straw men are often constructed from the failures of any said group.  I have been made into a straw man more times than I can count and have also been guilty of the same thing when dealing with those who think and believe differently from me.  So yes, I am often judged by the worst of those who call themselves Christians, and yes I can be at times a member of that club, showing bad example.  I can be a Pharisee along with the best of them.  I am a sinner, I fail, but I can get up and start anew.

Scripture can at times be used not as a sword that pierces the heart, mind and soul, leading to conversion and a deeper love of God and man,  but as a club used in a manner that is often violent, cruel and unloving in the extreme.  Quotes often become the Word of God and Jesus and his example and love are forgotten and buried.  One of the good things about failing is that it brings to mind the inner struggle that every human being is involved in.  Each religion and I would think the many different philosophies; seek to deal with this issue of living an authentic human life.  Or to put it another way, how do we become more fully human, more loving, compassionate and empathetic.  When religion becomes a shell, empty without any kind of deep inner reflective life, it can be a source of suffering for any who come in contact with such a way of life.  When one system becomes aggressive towards another, it starts a cycle of pain and fragmentation in the human community that perhaps is continuing to worsen as mankind ages.  We have the ideals, it is the carrying them out that is the question.  As a species we tend to gravitate towards extreme tribalism, no matter what group we belong to.  Be it religious or secular.  Straw men or easier to deal with than the actual human person, complex and each unique in their slant in how they perceives the world and live out there beliefs.

When Christians fail to see Christ Jesus in their neighbors, in their enemies, then breakdown is present.  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is talking about how humans relate to one another.  He is not talking about governments or some kind of social movement that will or can change the world where it actually needs changing.  No, he is speaking about how we relate to on another.  It starts at the bottom, between two people, then it spreads to others, a ripple effect, or another word used by Jesus, it expands like the working of yeast, invisible yet there.  It is our everyday relationships that can slowly change the world.  However I think that we should be more loving towards others without thinking about its affect on the world. We just need to be more open to grace, God’s love and seek to develop a deep loving relationship with Christ.  When we don’t do this, we fail in a big way.  This love has to be consciously sought after, prayed for, even in spite of deep resistance in our hearts.

I have deep seated resistance to love others. I have lots of inner conflict, but I have learned that is part of the journey, an aspect of the dying to self that Jesus is calling us all to.  Growing into the freedom of the Children of God; which is the freedom to love others more fully and to leave judgments to God…for in reality this is the lifting of a great inner burden. For when we judge, when we try to weigh the heart and soul of another, we fail, we don’t see deep enough.  Often we just see ourselves and don’t like what others reflect back to us.  The splinter in the eye of another is easier to deal with than the log in our own.  Failure is not hypocrisy, hiding it and then demanding that others be perfect, is.  If we truly understood ourselves better, I doubt any of us would ever be shocked by what others do….”there but for the grace of God go I”.

It is in our relationship with God that our heart expands.  As life moves on and we look back, a pattern is seen, a path of raising and falling, of having trust and a slow moving forward.  Making the conscious ascent of the will allowing grace in, even when things are dark and seem hopeless.  It is when we make a conscious choice to allow God’s grace and mercy to manifest in our often fragmented and pain filled souls that we begin to see and understand the work of grace, freely given, without merit on our part and we learn to trust ever more deeply. This is what others see, and hopefully what we see in those we come in contact with.  We are called to heal those around us, and allow others to minister to us as well.


Life

Things are about we don’t understand,
our world a cell with strict  limitation,
our ways often shaded in grays,
and our paths obscure,
our faith the light on our path,
drawing us deeper into love and mystery.

In our prayers and heart
we carry one another,
the world.

For Christ Jesus can do all things.

Soon (Anges)

Soon

I got another call from Agnes right after she saw her doctor. The news was not surprising since she told me that her internist recommended that she go immediately into hospice. When going into a hospice program it means that for most they have less than six months to live and only palliative care is given. I did not say anything, but only brought up the point, that if in hospice, no aggressive treatment can be implemented. I did not mention anything about the six months. A couple of days are another 48 hours, in which she can adapt to her new situation a little bit more before she gets the news.

So she got right to the point, one of her strengths. “I have two months”, which surprised me, but her cancer is the small cell variety and very fast moving, at least that is what she was told. She will stay in her apartment and hospice will come for visits during the week. They help with baths, see how comfortable she is and may even do some cleaning if needed. Afterwards, when she becomes weaker, which should be only a matter of weeks; then she will be moved into a hospice facility. As we talked, I really made a strong point about how well hospice takes care of pain and will also take her spiritual needs seriously. She was of course in shock; two months to live, when only mere days ago she was probably thinking in terms of decades. She is after all in her early 60’s.

The only thing I have to offer is to simply be there for her. I told her I would try to visit at least once a week and hopefully I will be able to be with her when the end comes. She broke down and cried and said “oh Mark that would be wonderful”. I may be unlikely that will happen, but I will keep my cell phone on during the night just in case when the end seems near. Phones are great; I will be able to at least talk with her on her cell phone on a regular basis.

I am going to visit her today and bring her some things that she likes. Milk Chocolate! Well she is a woman after all, and I have met few who do not like that. Then she asked if I would stop off at McDonalds and bring her an “Egg McMuffin”. I think she has a tinny, tiny, addiction to them. Then she said: “I know they are not really that good for me”; so I laughed and said: “Well Agnes, I think you can eat anything you want now, you are free in that regard”. She laughed. She has a booming laugh, something I have always loved about her. No matter how bad things would be for her, I could always get her to laugh. She also cried a lot and would always apologize for that. Then I would say: “Agnes, if you did not cry every time we talked, then I would start to worry!” That always got her laughing again. In many respects she is very childlike and open, though it is not often seen by those who don’t know her very well.

She being Catholic, I will bring her the Eucharist when I visit. Another little thing I can do for her. I am going to try to get a priest to drop in and give her the “anointing of the sick.” A very important sacrament for Catholic’s and I have seen some remarkable changes when this graced filled ritual is enacted. The Catholic Church has many problems, yet in regard to the sacraments they are true vehicles of deep healing for many.

Because she has such a limited time left I think she is becoming more beautiful to me as a person. Things speed up, years compacted into weeks, or perhaps even less time, it is hard to tell. I think with her type of cancer, because it has spread so fast, the two months prognosis could be a long shot.
Why am I writing this? Well if you hear of a friend that is dying, don’t withdraw even if there is fear. Don’t pretend if you do visit that death is not near. Ask about their comfort, emotional states, spiritual needs if that is appropriate and if possible after that is taken care of and they feel listened to; then try to get them to laugh, or to talk about their lives, or whatever they want. For the dying are often so isolated, abandoned by friends who simply don’t know how to react. It is not done in bad will, just fear, a very human experience and understandable.

However fear has many functions. One is of course to protect and in those situations it would be beyond stupid not to listen to that. Then there are other times when fear presents a wall that needs to be climbed or stepped over. It deepens the ability to experience life in broader strokes and in the process the heart expands and becomes more all inclusive of the human situation. So embrace a friend who is dying, listen, love and sneak them in any kind of food they want. Don’t push ones beliefs but accompany them on their own journey. For God’s work in each life is truly a deep and wondrous mystery.

I fail in many ways, for being a caregiver has many pitfalls. Yet even then it is good to own up to it and to keep trying. Boundaries are needed and as much as I hate the word, for I often think it is used to control others; co-dependency is deadly. It only leads to resentment and anger, something most care givers have to deal with. It is a warning sign that too much is trying to be done and a little backing off and a deepening of respect is needed.

The gift of those dying is to allow us to accompany them, it is an important part of life, so please embrace and love those near and dear who are near death. Truly talk to them, be real, for they know if avoidance is present. Of course some that are dying want that and that will become apparent early one. Then it is appropriate to do what they want, but from my experience this is rare. What is not rare is both sides trying to protect the other from pain, when if fact if openness was lived out both parties would benefit.

One day, most of us will need someone to accompany us, so just think what you would want, and then treat the one you are with in the same manner. OK, don’t mean to too preach, don’t want to offend, but people are precious, all of them. So love them, cherish, hold, and if possible lead them to similes and laughter. To be able to laugh is one of God’s greatest gifts to use human. Just think what life would be without it?

We are the enemy

We are the enemy

People will often say that they don’t care if there is an afterlife or not.  Or that they are not afraid of death.  Well we are either alive or dead, death for the body is painless, but the process of dying often is not.  Even if death itself is without pain, it is the anticipation of dying that causes suffering and anxiety.  Death and what happens when we die is an important question.  I think it foolish for people to spend their lives and to never think about their ending, at least as far as this world is concerned.

Belief in annihilation at death can be just as much an opiate as belief in some glorious afterlife for everyone.  To believe that we are responsible for whom we become, be it monster or saint or somewhere in the middle, is not always a comforting idea.  To seek something good is understandable and should be encouraged.  However when the ‘good’ becomes so central that anything will be done to achieve it, then that is when evil happens and those who seek that ‘good’ become monsters. 

Belief in an afterlife is not always a great comfort, since we all must face ourselves at death and answer for our lives.  I believe we all sin, fail, and without mercy, healing and forgiveness, we are doomed to a very unpleasant afterlife. One that is self willed and embraced, because mercy and grace is refused.  Forgiveness has a price, Christ Jesus paid it, he took on our sins upon himself and forgave, he did not demand justice, hence his suffering.  When anyone forgives someone a wrong, there is a payment the one forgives carries, while the one forgiven is set free.  Christ Jesus bore the sins of all, hence is deep suffering death.  Unlike us, his forgiveness and love are life giving, he overcame death and in him we all live.

It is not the wrath of God that is to be feared, but our own deep seated rage turned inward, that is to be dreaded.  God is not the enemy; we are, not only to ourselves but to others as well.  The world is a reflection our own souls, conflicted, self centered and without hope and love, unless it is bestowed on us, either by others, or in the end, most importantly by God.  The mystery of the Christian message will never be fully understood, perhaps that is why we often as Christians look upon Christ Jesus as just another human, though we say and believe he is divine.  Infinite love and mercy is of a different order than human love and mercy, much, much, more not less.  I still am at the beginning in understanding the mystery of Christ birth, death and resurrection.  Perhaps it is an eternity of seeking, experiencing this love at ever deeper levels.  What keeps the Christian alive is the reality that we must constantly strive to see deeper as well as to love deeper.  We are called to put on the mind of Christ Jesus.

Language about God

Language about God

The world “God” is a term for different theories of theism, a generic term that can pretty much mean anything, for even people who share the same faith tradition will have vastly different notions of God. This should not come as a surprise, since each unique individual, having their own distinctive path, will each have a one of a kind take on things. Even in close knits group, no matter how liberal, moderate, or conservative they are, will have breakdowns within each group. It seems that no two people can really see things the same way at all, no matter what is seen superficially.

Then there are atheists who have their own take on God and on those who believe in God. There seems to be some disagreement among them about this issue as well. Some atheists come across sounding like 'extreme' fundamentalist Christians in how they present themselves. Their emotional ranting, their assumption that they are coming across as rational, when in reality all they doing is having a tirade, saying the same things over and over again. It is understandable why they get so many fundamentalist Christians to debate them, both living in a world that is black and white. These types of atheist believe that getting rid of religion will cause most of the evils in the world to go away. Which is absurd, for the problem is a human problem, a power problem, and religion just another tool in which those who are power hungry, will exploit whatever is available to get what they desire. While at the same time conveniently overlooking what atheistic governments did to their citizens. Yet atheist (well some of them) will try to downplay this reality and not want to face it. In this regard they are the same as anyone else, seeking a scapegoat to plant blame, something they can send out into the desert to die, carrying the sins of mankind with it.

When speaking of God paradoxical language has to be used, for it is not, then trouble begins to happen, and God is reduced to whichever idol resides in the heads of those arguing or debating. Atheist, at least those who have an ax to grind, when speaking of God, tend to come across to believers as childish in their understanding and over emotional in how they present themselves. So these atheists tend to preach only to the choir and get very little attention from believers who are not fundamentalist in how they believe.

So this is how God language can work. An atheist says, “God does not exist”, well I can agree with that. Or it will be stated: God is not anywhere, show me where he is”, and I can say, “you are right God is not anywhere”. Atheists tend to make God into a ‘thing’ that should be able to be seen, weighed and be able to pose for some kind of a picture. Since however God in not a ‘being’ there is ‘nothing’ to take a picture of, which seems to cause a problem for some atheist, who so want that Polaroid.

Of course the image of God that believers present to the world, the loud ones, those who also have a black and white outlook on things is a perfect ploy for their opponents to latch on to. There is no answer to this, it is what is and I think any kind of bridge will never be built, both groups doomed to isolation from others who don’t live in a simple black and white world.

Science and religion or not opposed, though there are some scientist and Christians who seem to believe that nonsense. Let them, the rest of us seem to get along fine. There are some very good books out there that are trying to bridge the divide of which the fundamentalist on both side of the science verses religion will most likely never read, which is fine, let them scream at each other from their perspective sides of the fence. It is their right and they should be given free reign to pontificate all they want. The rest of us will simple live our lives in peace, be we atheist or believers. In any case, below my essay, is a review on one of the best books out on the subject of God and the debate that is raging is some quarters. It is respectful in tone and well worth the effort to read.

Who is right? Well on level one, the level in which we simply share, well it is a crap shoot. So yes atheist could be right on this level, however I believe the world makes no sense otherwise, for how is it that the world is run on rational laws and that that human brain is built in such a way as to understand it....is that just blind chance? Personal experience is also important and that is something that cannot be taken away from any of us. If I have experienced love, I believe in it, yet it is a personal experience as well, science has nothing to do with it. We each in our deepest interior have to decide what to make of reality, such is our glory, this freedom and we should leave each to make their journey in peace. To share is not a species of trying to force anyone to think or believe in a certain way, mutual respect is needed in order for a true exchange to happen.



Book review

No One Sees God by Michael Novak

“This book is one of the most lyrical and moving reflections on God I have encountered. It is also remarkably generous, both to believers and nonbelievers. Most helpfully it is about how to pray, and how to suffer through the dark night in which answers, and communication, seem absent. A remarkable book by a remarkable man.”
--Peggy Noonan, Wall Street Journal columnist, author of John Paul the Great

"Over the years, Michael Novak has explored with great insight the relationship between religion, society, and the individual. Here he engages with the recent intellectual challenges to religion and provides the perspective of a profound believer who knows what it is like to wrestle with doubt."
--Walter Isaacson, CEO of the Aspen Institute, author of Einstein: His Life and Universe

“Intensely personal and yet intellectually wide-ranging, this book shows Michael Novak at his best. No One Sees God conveys a depth, erudition, generosity of spirit, and wisdom that simply transcend anything that the new atheists have to offer.”
--Dinesh D'Souza, author of What's So Great About Christianity

“This new book by Michael Novak is one of the most fascinating reflections on the God known through reason that I have ever encountered, the God whom we trust in shadow and in light, in defeat as well as in victory. Many, many readers will recognize in these pages elements of their own experience.”
--Newt Gingrich, former Speaker of the House, author of Rediscovering God in America

“Michael Novak's new book counts as both significant and moving. He deploys logic and love, emotion and erudition, to address the most enduring questions of our existence.”
--Michael Medved, nationally syndicated talk-radio host, author of Right Turns

"The word 'dialogical' might have been invented to describe Michael Novak. With great patience and lucidity he engages believers, unbelievers, and those who don't know what they believe in a conversation about the things that matter most."
— Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Editor in Chief of First ThingsLanguage

Agnes

Agnes

“Mark I have terminal cancer, please call me”.  That was the short message that I got over the phone from Agnes (not her real name).  She is an older woman, in retirement and she lives in an apartment complex for those who need assisted living.  She can be a very difficult person, demanding, actually, in her need for support and for someone to listen to her endless complaints on how insensitive others are to her, how uncaring.  Over the years she has gone through quite a few relationships, letting each one go when she perceives that she is not getting the support that she needs.  I have tried to get her to work through some of these difficulties but she seems to be incapable of doing that on an emotional level.  Though in fact she is a very intelligent woman who had a fruitful career, though even then she was not happy with it, for there were people she had to work with after all.

For a while she stopped calling me, again stating that I was not being supportive of her. So I became just another person living out one of her cycles, even though I have known her for almost 20 years.  She left this message on my answering machine and to tell you the truth I was relieved when I heard it.  The reason she thought this was true, was due to the fact that I ask her to reconsider how she treated one of her ‘friends’.  Perhaps she might try to simply listen to her friends problems, which were many and serious.  She took offense and dropped me.  I kind of smiled at this, since she thought she was punishing me in doing this, when in fact it was freeing. 

So yes, Agnes can be a handful, difficult, perhaps more self centered than most of us are, yet she struggles, tries in her own way and does not plan to intentionally to hurt or use others.  Perhaps compassion is often given to those who have trouble giving it, being trapped in emotional prisons that they have yet to find a way out of.   I guess we all have deep roots that go back to our beginnings that still feed and direct us, for good or ill.  Her background with her parents was rough.  Her father, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, caused her no amount of pain and grief.  Yet she stuck with him to the end and for that I have the deepest respect.

About ten years ago she got back in contact with her daughter, whom she put up for adoption after her birth.  She was too young, still in school, and perhaps it was a good thing in the end.  Agnes knows that she is not mothers’ material, but over the years regret surfaced over what she had done and she started looking for her child.  She found her and I rejoiced with her over the reunion.  Yet over the years it has become estranged and they have not communicated for the last few years.  I learned this as I talked to her over the phone this week.  I asked her if she wanted to get back in contact with her daughter and let her know what is going on.  At first she reacted as she normally does and said no.  Her daughter was not supportive of her, she was selfish and self centered and so did not see the need.  So I pushed it a bit, gently, and said: “Agnes, do the motherly thing, mothers have unconditional love for their children, or the closest thing there is to it on this earth.  So do it for her, not for yourself.  Give her a chance to make the choice on what she wants to do”.  For I continued:  “For after you’re gone, her anger and resentment will fall away and only regretful love and feelings of guilt will be left.  Spare her that”.  She listened and was still doubtful.  So I volunteered to call her if she could find her phone number or address.  She accepted that and I could tell that she was relieved, for in the end, like her father, she still loved her daughter.  Though I am not sure how the daughter will react, but at least she will have the chance to choose. 

She cried a bit, but soon we talked some more.  There was really nothing I could say to make her feel better, but I stayed with her, even if it was not much.  So she again talked about what her doctor told her last night over the phone.  That her cancer was worse than they thought, it was terminal and she needed to get her affairs in order.  We also talked about treatment, which she is sure she will take, for she really wants to live.  She asked me “why God was doing this to her”, something I am sure many ask when they first get the news of their illness.  It is quite a wake up call, to be told you have mere months to live, that the cancer within the body is of the kind that moves quickly, a lot to absorb and take in.  She even brought up hospice care for she knew that she would have to go to a facility for her end of life care.  For even if her daughter gets back in contact, she lives many miles away from Agnes and could not afford to move close by. 

Agnes is a rich personality, intelligent and has a very loud laugh that I always love to hear.  It is easy to distract her with humor, so perhaps that is all that I can do for her, besides praying of course.  She has insurance, so that is taken care of.  Hopefully I will be able to accompany her on her journey.  I guess all I can do is call her and hopefully when she is in hospice, be able to see her and give whatever comfort I can.   There is really not much that can be done, yet I guess we all do the best we can.  Agnes, even though she got caught up in some destructive cycles with others, it was not intentional. She always tried; she just did not know how to get out of it. 

We each have people who come into our lives, perhaps placed would be a better word, and perhaps our task is to simply carry them for a bit, love them, and do what little can be done.  I know that there are those who help me in that way, we all need a little help on the way don’t we?   I always feel my inner poverty, my limited emotional resources when it comes to things like this, yet I feel the pull or perhaps the call.  Over the years I have slowly learned to put up some boundaries, so perhaps there has been some growth in that regard.  Yet when someone is lonely, in pain, and now dying, what can you do?   To not do anything would require me to turn off some inner switches that I really don’t want to do.  For how I treat just one in need, especially someone I have known and have come to love, will also permeate how I treat all the others who come my way.  I can’t help everyone, but those I can, I will to the best of my ability, as poor and limited as that may be.

From the heart

From the heart

Speaking from the heart is not easy and I have not achieved that very often in my life.  When not speaking from the heart I get into the mode of trying to impress someone, or perhaps even everyone, with my deep penetrating intelligence; which I believe is as common as mud.  It is easy to figure out others, or for that matter my own faith and what is wrong with it….in the end however I believe it is a form of disassociation, a way to get attention from myself.  I have found when I actually speak from the heart, good things happen.  It is also something I like to see in others and  find that when I am speaking to another man or woman, who understands our common human situation and speaks honestly, there seems to be a healing on both sides.  We see each other if only for a brief time.

In prayer, it is important to pray from the heart, the gut. To be present to all that one is afraid of looking at and understanding that it is  ‘grace’ that is asking us to ‘speak’ this before the Lord of light.  Again, I am not sure that I am there often.  I know when I am not in that sacred space by how I relate to others, even if it only in my interior.  Prayer has a way of bringing things into perspective, in ways that others may not understand or appreciate.  There are times when I am in struggle and don’t want to bring it in prayer to the Lord. It is then when a prayer friend will say something to me that shows that they have a prayerful heart and I find myself bristling when I hear them.  They are seeking to speak with me heart to heart and to bring God’s healing, loving call to conversion, to my attention and I often resist.

Speakers who don’t bring into their talks their own struggles and human intrigues, short circuit what they can bring to others.  If a speaker wants to get someone’s interest, just bring in ones own life situation into the mix and those who are listening will perk up and listen and often find some healing in the process.  To speak from the heart, or to write from ones deepest center is an opening for Christ Jesus to do his work of healing….it is also a form of seeing, when others are allowed to look within ones own inner sanctum and in doing so, find a brother and sister on the same road towards union with God.

How deep and restless

How deep and restless

O Lord;
how deep is the human heart,
torn between the past and the future;
seldom in the present were reality dwells.

What we fear and hope for
often do not come to fruition,
longings unfed becomes wounds
whose pain is seen only by your gaze.

Forgetting our pilgrimage,
we seek to find home on an empty foundation,
for time takes away everything,
everyone,
wearing us down in our long days
and often endless nights.

Our home is in the moment,
seeking neither this nor that,
but only “Thou” O Lord,
the lover of our minds, souls and bodies.

“Be still and know I am God”

(Psalm 46:10)

Homesickness and longing

Homesickness and longing

I saw a picture the other day of a place remembered long ago, when just a lad.  Funny about nostalgia, memories wiped cleaned, filled with raw, beautiful emotions, with undertows of pain.  It is like remembering a place I have not yet been, homesickness for a home I have not seen, nor experienced.  Longing seeking a place to rest, but I can’t find it.  So I think about past places and fast forward them perhaps to a state of home coming…..something too good to be true, but I believe it none-the-less. 

It is like listening to music, any kind really.  At times I will here something so beautiful that I can see my soul flying in wide over hanging arch’s , twisting and turning, higher and higher towards what I am not sure…though it seems like home.  Music can be a key to recesses of the heart truly touched I believe by grace. 

Longing is a form of thirst, for living waters, deep, cool and bottomless, that we can dive into for an eternity and still not reach the bottom.  No, we are always at the beginning of our dive into what the heart longs for.  For the heart is finite, but has an infinite capacity to grow into love…. graces healing freely given to hearts that are filled with sand, longing for the living waters of eternal love and life and I long that all will experience this cleansing cooling fire. 

Below the placid surfrace

 

Below the placid surface

There is much that swims below the placid surface,
deep creatures seeking release,
hungry for prey below the wave-less water;
some so deep they are never seen,
getting stronger because hidden from view,
some so buried that they sleep forever,
disturbed only by that one ‘thing;’
the event that brought them to birth.

Crimes of passion,
acts flowing from deep pain,
understated in mundane affairs,
like a mighty earthquake when aroused
leaving ruins in its wake.

Danger and harm can flow form the heart,
where do we find healing and release (?),
until that happens our world of pain will endure,
as one by one our inner rages come forth,
perhaps to amazement and unending grief.

Experiences with the dying

Experiences with the dying I suppose one of my main interests in life is looking at and studying the subjective experiences that seem to be part of everyone’s life. At least it seems that way, not only from my own experiences, but also in my conversations with others and the plethora of literature that is out nowadays that deals with this subject. It is like we live in a small box world, an everyday place. Yet many people, perhaps the majority, have secrets that have to deal with experiences that seem to point to something more beyond the world of consensus-reality. Perhaps due importance is not given to them and they are filed away or forgotten. Or they feel they can’t share them. However that seems to be changing and perhaps for some it is disturbing. For human experiences cannot be contained by certain philosophical, political or religious beliefs. At this time I am reading a new book that was published last year. The title of the book is: “The art of dying”, co-authored by Peter Fenwick and his wife Elizabeth. It deals with the experiences that people have just before death and some of it is based on the experiences of caregivers. It is well written and I would highly recommend it to anyone interest in this particular subject. Dr. Fenwick is an internationally renowned neuro-psychiatrist and Britain’s leading clinical authority on near-death experiences. His wife Elizabeth is the author of numerous books dealing with health issues and child care. In reading the book, about how other caregivers relate their experiences with the dying, brought some of mine into consciousness. Though in fact they were never far away, for from time to time I will relive some of them. Funny thing these experiences, for when actually witnessing them they don’t some unusual at all, either for the one having them, or for me who just happened to be present as a witness. Clarence for instance in the last week of his life seemed to be having ‘visitors’ in his room. I can remember one day, I was in the room with Rose, our head nurse who was standing at the foot of the bed. Clarence was trying to look around her at something. So I asked him what he was looking at. He replied in a matter fact sort of way, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, that he was seeing an angel. It did not occur to me until later that this was a deep and healing experience for him. Michael was a charge of mine in the mid-eighties, in his eighties, a handsome man, looked like Santa Claus with his long white beard and hair. One day I entered his room to clean him and as I entered I saw that he was in ecstasy, his hands folded and his face actually had a glow to it. I stopped and stood still for I did not want to disturb him. When he saw me, he turned his head and said with a beatific smile: “Oh Mark, you have no idea how beautiful heaven is”. Again, the experience seemed normal and natural to me, but later it struck me that again, I witnessed a profound moment with someone. Perhaps when the box opens up a bit, it quickly becomes something normal while the experience is happening. Or perhaps not everyone sees it that way; we are all so unique in how we relate to our experiences in life. Michael died soon after that. In the early days I would have ‘visitation dreams’ from those I took care of. In this dream I was in a hospital ward walking towards a room. In the room I saw Michael in bed, his face again glowing like the sun and he looked at me, laughed and said: “I am ok Mark, just resting up”. I had that dream almost 25 years ago and have not forgotten it. It is still fresh in my mind as if I had it yesterday, yet it seems so normal. However most dreams that I have fade and only come to memory when I happen to read about one of them from my journal. Though I don’t write many down, if I stared doing that I would have to spend a couple of hours a day just recording them. I think I dream too much. However visitation dreams seem to stick. Mark had Parkinson’s and was also suffering from dementia. So he had to be watched 24 hours a day. We had to use a simple restraint for him and he did not seem to mind. He was a pleasant man, a country boy, and served in the Navy during World War Two. He had an interesting face, one that looks somewhat like the “Sad Sack figure” from the comics. I remember the day he died. I was sitting with him and he had the labored breathing that seems to be present when most die, at least from my limited experience. So as I was sitting and praying with him, staying in rhythm with his breathing, I realized I had to leave the room and do some other chores. So I left and as I was returning, when I was about 20 feet from his room, I said to myself: “Damn, he just died”. I don’t know how I knew, I just did. So I entered his room and sure enough he was gone, his body still at the normal temperature, perhaps it was timed so he could die alone. Well a few days after his death I had another visitation dream. I was in Church fixing some books when he walked up to me. His face had a gentle glow to hit, he still had his Sad Sack face but it was suffused with love and compassion, he also had the gentlest smile. He looked at me and said: “I love you Mark, thank you for all you did, I will pray for you”. I woke up with tears in my eyes. This dream happened fifteen years ago and I have not forgotten it either, just as fresh as if it happened yesterday. I had other dreams about dealing with those I helped to take care of, but over the years they stopped. Perhaps they did because I no longer needed them to help me deal with their loss. I am not really in touch with my feelings and it was others who would notice that I would withdraw after a death and not being my usual loud, hyper self for awhile. So perhaps they were a way of helping me to deal with it better. Philip was our longest living resident. He needed full time care for almost eleven years. The last six he spent all of his time either in his Gerry chair or in bed. He was a very gentle man and he had a smile that would melt a glacier. He suffered from dementia, yet he had the kind in which he was almost always happy and laughing. There were times when he would be angry or sad of course. One night when I was working the late shift he was beside himself with sorrow. From what I could understand, he was reliving a painful experience with one of his brothers. I think he was really hurt emotionally and all he could say to me was: “Why did he do it”? So he was trapped for a time in a past memory. So I just held him a bit, wiped his face and in about thirty minutes he was back to his smiling self. One night I went into his room and as I approached he was laughing and talking. As I stopped at the door I could feel that the room was full. Philip saw me and called me in and one by one he introduced me to old friends and family members. So I bowed to each space that he pointed to and told him I would come back later after his friends left. He would also deliver messages to some of the CNA’s who worked for us. One lady lost a brother and she was worried about him, wondered if he was ok. As she was feeding Philip his breakfast, he suddenly became very clear and told her that her brother was ok and to stop worrying about him. She never talked to Philip about this and even if she did, most times he would not respond in any kind of a rational way. She came down to me; she was in tears and told me what happened. She was a little scared. So I told her not to worry, her brother simply found a way to communicate with her, it happens all the time. So in reality I told her that peeps outside the box are perfectly normal and everyday occurrences. It calmed her down but the experience deeply touched her. She shared it with her family and it helped them with their grief. I suppose I could write on and on about this, but there is no need, at least for now. What do these experiences mean? I think they point to something other, to a wider reality that our brain has to filter out so we can simply live in this very difficult reality. Those who don’t, well perhaps some of them or the ones we call mentally ill. In any case, since I am a Christian I will have a tendency to see them in this light. Those who believe differently will have to deal with them in ways that make sense to them. For our beliefs both limit and free us in our dealings with life; just another paradox I believe. It would seem to me that for the brain to evolve this way, to allow these experiences that help us die would not be able to evolve from a mindless blind process. All through history there have been stories about these experiences. Today because of our medical care we are hearing more about them. No, this points to some kind of process that has some point to it. Again we will all have to deal with this in our own way. To get the absolute answer I feel is not possible and for someone to think that they have would in reality only limit ones ability to be open to the deep ever expanding mystery of life and our existence.