I'll admit that I often do not especially think of the working poor. I walk among and with them daily, yet do not let the poverty into my consciousness. This reality came to me yesterday as I unwrapped the book I need to read in preparation for a conference call and discussion.
This past summer, I spent four days with several hundred Sisters and Associates of a Franciscan community. One of our tasks was to gather with the work/ministry groups that we had chosen several months earlier. I had chosen the "poverty" group. Discussion nearly immediately focused on the working poor. On several occasions, I interjected the need to look beyond monetary and physical poverty. My several suggestions were the poor who are in mourning, feeling disenfranchised, are seriously ill, have no family members and/or are all alone during difficult times. My comments were acknowledged, yet there was no further comment along the lines I had suggested. As our meeting drew to a close, we were reminded to read THE WORKING POOR by November!
Last Sunday, I was honored to celebrate the Eucharist in the parish where I am a priest in residence. The folks who attended the 8 AM Mass voiced their concerns regarding the calling of a new priest. The rector of nine years resigned this past July and the parish administration is in the hands of the vestry and a rota of "supply" priests. The 10 AM folks appeared to be a bit less disturbed by the process of calling an interim priest yet, the atmosphere during the service and coffee hour was subdued.
I see parishioners in similar situations as members of the "poor." This is a poverty of spirit as they worship with a different priest every week. Although the parishes had suffered financially, things had been picking up. Now, all there seems to be is uncertainty. This is hardly an isolated situation. Roman Catholic parishes are struggling with bishops who appoint "Old Rite" priests who want to return the Mass to Latin, turn the altar toward the wall, and sing hymns that have no basis in the changes of Vatican Council II. There is a parish in our community where these reversals of Vatican II have taken place and over 200 parishioners have split from that parish and now worship without a priest.
GLBT women and men continue to find failure to legalize their relationships as marriages. They are denied the richness of open, honest, loving relationships and the support that brings couples. Additionally, they are denied health care insurance, the ability to adopt children, and the involvement of the the other in work community sharing, parties, discussion groups and the like. Gay Roman Catholic priests are not able to be open about their sexual orientation. Despite the recent invitation of the pope to Anglican clergy who are in disagreement with gay/lesbian clergy and women bishops, those gay Anglican dissidents will need to remain hidden lest they find they do not fit into the Roman Catholic Church.
Lesbian Roman Catholic Sisters most certainly are present in many religious communities. The second of a three stage "inquisition" of American Religious Orders of women, questions the membership of lesbians in communities, as well as how often the sisters confess their sins, attend Mass, and other "concerns."
Lastly, I think of my own mother who is nearly 84 years old. She has been a widow for 21 years and she lives in an apartment complex of mostly older single and married women and men. Initially, my sister lived nearby, but she and her husband moved to London and Mom only saw them a couple of times a year. Their six children all saw Grandma's as a hub for connection as they made their ways back and forth from London to Chicago. Now, the only family left in Chicago is one 30+ yr. old grandson and his spouse. They get together for supper occasionally, and Mom is thrilled to still have someone nearby.
Jesus and Francis loved the poor and reached out to them no matter what the source of their poverty. My greatest concern is that we not narrow our view and therefore, exclude all who need our love, support, care and prayers.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Strength in the midst of Pain and Loss
This is a continuation of my last entry. My roommate received a phone call from her sister in Missouri. Their mother (wife of "John" from the post) had become weak and disoriented in the nursing home and had been taken to the Emergency Room and admitted to the Critical Care Unit where she was being monitored. It didn't seem necessary for "Liz" to come home yet. The following morning we were awakened by the same sibling saying that their mother was not improving and less than 30 minutes later, we were called again telling us to come to Missouri; all the (adult) children would be gathered at the hospital.
Twelve hours later, we arrived at the hospital. "Liz was breathing on her own, but her expiration's were being assisted by forceful pressure through the mask. She was non-responsive. There was no grasping when her hand were held, no indication that she heard those around her.
Everyone was prepared to remove life support once the physicians agreed that although they did not know exactly what had happened, the length without any response to a multitude of medicantions and treatments seemed to indicate that "Liz" would not recover.
All that was needed now was the opinion of the infectious disease physician. His initial belief was that "Liz" had meningitis although this was not confirmed by spinal tap because of her unstable respiration's. The physician entered the room and said, "we need to triple the dose of the antibiotic and keep an eye on your mother for that time." Not unlike the time they had just spent with their father and although this plan of action seemed like grasping at straws, the decision was made to try the increased dosage of medication.
One daughter remained at the hospital while we all went home. The phone rang at 3 AM and we were told to "come now, Mom's worse." The seven children stood around their mother's bed and could barely watch her struggle for each breath. They asked the nurse what would be necessary to have "Liz" removed from any life suppport. She said that the three principal physicians who were caring for her would have to see her and that her primary physician would have to agree to remove life support.
What a long and painful day. Finally, the infectious disease specialist visited "Liz." His response to withdrawing life support was that "the medication hasn't had time to work." He did say that there "might" be some other process going on her her brain but that the neurologist would have to address that! When the neurologist arrived, he agreed that this was not simply meningitis or some other infection, but other brain malfunction as well. Although he didn't firmly say, Yes, stop treatment, he did indicated that there was a good chance that this was not reversible.
About 1PM the last physician visited. He didn't say "Yes, stop treatment," but when asked directly about the possibility of recovery, he responded, "I don't believe that she will improve or recover." Once the necessary physician orders were written to remove the forced oxygen and the medications and to provide comfort rather than curative care, "Liz" began her last decline.
About 7 PM, we were called to CCU and told that "Liz" was being moved to a private room on one of the medical units. There the family would have room and privacy. We were asked to wait in the CCU waiting room while "Liz" was prepared for transfer. The wait was at least 45 minutes. Finally we saw the bed with a nurse and the eldest daughter coming down the hallway. We took the next elevator up to the to the medical floor. As we looked at "Liz" we all noticed how still she was and how dusky her face appeared. "Liz" had died, probably in the elevator! She could have had everyone with her as they were with her husband two weeks earlier, but there was such a move to get her out of CCU now that she was dying!!!!! Liz died two weeks to the day of her husband's death. Her funeral and burial are now following that pattern.
Compassion has no place in the natural order of the world which operates on the basis of necessity. Compassion opposes this order and is therefore best thought of as being in some way supernatural.~John Berger
I would take this quotation even further to say "perceived" necessity. Unless someone was going to suffer or die without the room in which "Liz" was dying, what justified moving her? What was the rush? Did anyone consider the comfort she might have had by having all of her family continue to surround her, rather that be taken across the entire hospital and placed in room that she did not even live to occupy?
Twelve hours later, we arrived at the hospital. "Liz was breathing on her own, but her expiration's were being assisted by forceful pressure through the mask. She was non-responsive. There was no grasping when her hand were held, no indication that she heard those around her.
Everyone was prepared to remove life support once the physicians agreed that although they did not know exactly what had happened, the length without any response to a multitude of medicantions and treatments seemed to indicate that "Liz" would not recover.
All that was needed now was the opinion of the infectious disease physician. His initial belief was that "Liz" had meningitis although this was not confirmed by spinal tap because of her unstable respiration's. The physician entered the room and said, "we need to triple the dose of the antibiotic and keep an eye on your mother for that time." Not unlike the time they had just spent with their father and although this plan of action seemed like grasping at straws, the decision was made to try the increased dosage of medication.
One daughter remained at the hospital while we all went home. The phone rang at 3 AM and we were told to "come now, Mom's worse." The seven children stood around their mother's bed and could barely watch her struggle for each breath. They asked the nurse what would be necessary to have "Liz" removed from any life suppport. She said that the three principal physicians who were caring for her would have to see her and that her primary physician would have to agree to remove life support.
What a long and painful day. Finally, the infectious disease specialist visited "Liz." His response to withdrawing life support was that "the medication hasn't had time to work." He did say that there "might" be some other process going on her her brain but that the neurologist would have to address that! When the neurologist arrived, he agreed that this was not simply meningitis or some other infection, but other brain malfunction as well. Although he didn't firmly say, Yes, stop treatment, he did indicated that there was a good chance that this was not reversible.
About 1PM the last physician visited. He didn't say "Yes, stop treatment," but when asked directly about the possibility of recovery, he responded, "I don't believe that she will improve or recover." Once the necessary physician orders were written to remove the forced oxygen and the medications and to provide comfort rather than curative care, "Liz" began her last decline.
About 7 PM, we were called to CCU and told that "Liz" was being moved to a private room on one of the medical units. There the family would have room and privacy. We were asked to wait in the CCU waiting room while "Liz" was prepared for transfer. The wait was at least 45 minutes. Finally we saw the bed with a nurse and the eldest daughter coming down the hallway. We took the next elevator up to the to the medical floor. As we looked at "Liz" we all noticed how still she was and how dusky her face appeared. "Liz" had died, probably in the elevator! She could have had everyone with her as they were with her husband two weeks earlier, but there was such a move to get her out of CCU now that she was dying!!!!! Liz died two weeks to the day of her husband's death. Her funeral and burial are now following that pattern.
Compassion has no place in the natural order of the world which operates on the basis of necessity. Compassion opposes this order and is therefore best thought of as being in some way supernatural.~John Berger
I would take this quotation even further to say "perceived" necessity. Unless someone was going to suffer or die without the room in which "Liz" was dying, what justified moving her? What was the rush? Did anyone consider the comfort she might have had by having all of her family continue to surround her, rather that be taken across the entire hospital and placed in room that she did not even live to occupy?
Monday, September 28, 2009
One breath from death
Imagine standing at the bedside of an 80 yr. old man who has been diagnosed with ALS (a progressive, debilitating disease that destroys nerves and weakens muscles until breathing is impossible without assistance while the mind remains clear). Despite his weakness, he makes the same repetitive movements with this hands, until one of his daughters asks, "Do you want to write something, Dad?" He nodded and his daughter held a clipboard and paper while he slowly and clearly wrote, "Let me die." This is John's story of the poverty that our medical professionals are capable of inflicting on those who need them the most and the anguish that accompanies those "professional" decisions and actions. That poverty was diminished by the love, faith, and determination of John's family.
"John" had been rushed to the hospital from a nursing home when he experienced difficulty breathing. All but the most important paperwork accompanied him. There was nothing that mentioned ALS! Soon it became essential to assist John's breathing and the physicians explained that he needed to be intubated in order to receive enough oxygen to sustain life. Despite his advance directive stating "Do NOT Resuscitate" John indicated his permission to intubate and to place him on a ventilator.
Those who were with John when he wrote his request to be allowed to die, immediately asked for a meeting with his primary ICU physician. The following morning, five of John's sons and daughters gathered with the physician and showed him the clearly written request. They inquired as to how the removal of life support would progress. "John is receiving a great deal of sedation; I can't simply remove the endotracheal tube. Just think how John had still been able to walk and push your mother in her wheelchair even the morning that his difficulty breathing began" (a paraphrase of the physician response).He indicated that he would have to ask John if removal of the tube and ventilator was what he REALLY wanted.
The physician and John's family re-grouped in John's room. Standing over John and nearly shouting his words, the physician began by asking John how he was doing; he blinked his eyes. " Do you want that breathing tube taken out? You know we have turned down the ventilator so that you are taking the breaths and the machine is providing the force to breathe out for you. It's possible that you can return to pushing your wife in her wheelchair and resume your activities at the nursing home if we give this treatment time to work. So, do you want us to remove the breathing tube?" "DO YOU WANT TO DIE?" John looked at him and shook his head "No." Back in the conference room, the physician told the family that John had made the decision that he was obliged to honor and that he would remain on the ventilator.
John developed pneumonia. The medical plan was to perform a tracheotomy and an insertion of of a feeding tube through his abdominal wall and which would remove the endotracheal tube and present feeding tube and be more comfortable for John. The morning that the procedures were scheduled, John spiked a fever which did not respond to medications. Early in the afternoon, when the family visited him, John was on a cooling pad (the length of his body). He was shivering and trying to move his legs off the pad. It was obvious that he was miserable. John's gestures were frantic; the look in his eyes was one of confusion as to what was happening to him.
Several days later, John's fever was under control, but his pneumonia had worsened. He appeared to be weaker and he slept more that he was awake. He continued to initiate breathing, with the ventilator assisting in expiration. Once again, the family asked to speak with the physician. He agreed that John might require the respirator for the rest of his life. His family asked if the nursing home would let him return on a respirator and he indicated that they would not. They inquired as to where there might be a facility nearby that would take John. There was a nursing facility that would take ventilator dependent individuals for rehab. The longest he could remain there was a month! What then?? Was there a facility for long term placement? The nearest nursing home able to care for someone on a ventilator was more than an hour's drive away. His wife would only be able to see him occasionally.
Once again the family gathered together to discuss the options for their father and husband. They approached the physician the next morning with their decision to have John gradually weaned from the ventilator and to let him die in peace. This time, as the physician spoke to John, he told them how serious his condition was and that there was a great probability that he would never be able to live without a respirator. The two possibilities that he explained to John were remaining on the respirator or keeping him comfortable while respirator assistance was gradually lessened and he died. John signaled that he understood and plans were made to begin the process within the hour.
As the gradual reduction in ventilator support began, a priest friend of his family had been asked to pray with them. Everyone was gathered around the bed and the image of a large group of people, each wearing white garments and gathered before God was recalled from the Revelation to St. John the Divine. When asked who these people were, an elder responded that they were the ones who had passed through the great tribulation. John was assured that he, too, would soon be one of that multitude standing before God who would say to him, "Well done, good and faithful servant." John's monitor indicated the slowing of his heart rate and the lowering of his blood pressure. Everyone present had the opportunity to hold John and tell him how they loved him. Peacefully and painlessly, John slipped into the open arms of God. As the monitor indicated cessation of life, the priest began, "Eternal Rest grant unto John O Lord....." and the prayers of the family began as John was held in their loving arms and committed to God's care.
The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But... the good Samaritan reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" Martin Luther King, Jr.
John's family never asked the question of the priest and the Levite. Although it was not verbalized, I sense that this was a huge question for the physician. Had John's family not been attentive to his wishes, he would be in some nursing facility; away from family and friends. He would not be able to speak and would be totally dependent upon others and machinery to sustain "life." John has moved now from the poverty of illness, fear of lawsuits that often dictate medical decisions, and total dependence upon others to a new life in the Presence of God.
"John" had been rushed to the hospital from a nursing home when he experienced difficulty breathing. All but the most important paperwork accompanied him. There was nothing that mentioned ALS! Soon it became essential to assist John's breathing and the physicians explained that he needed to be intubated in order to receive enough oxygen to sustain life. Despite his advance directive stating "Do NOT Resuscitate" John indicated his permission to intubate and to place him on a ventilator.
Those who were with John when he wrote his request to be allowed to die, immediately asked for a meeting with his primary ICU physician. The following morning, five of John's sons and daughters gathered with the physician and showed him the clearly written request. They inquired as to how the removal of life support would progress. "John is receiving a great deal of sedation; I can't simply remove the endotracheal tube. Just think how John had still been able to walk and push your mother in her wheelchair even the morning that his difficulty breathing began" (a paraphrase of the physician response).He indicated that he would have to ask John if removal of the tube and ventilator was what he REALLY wanted.
The physician and John's family re-grouped in John's room. Standing over John and nearly shouting his words, the physician began by asking John how he was doing; he blinked his eyes. " Do you want that breathing tube taken out? You know we have turned down the ventilator so that you are taking the breaths and the machine is providing the force to breathe out for you. It's possible that you can return to pushing your wife in her wheelchair and resume your activities at the nursing home if we give this treatment time to work. So, do you want us to remove the breathing tube?" "DO YOU WANT TO DIE?" John looked at him and shook his head "No." Back in the conference room, the physician told the family that John had made the decision that he was obliged to honor and that he would remain on the ventilator.
John developed pneumonia. The medical plan was to perform a tracheotomy and an insertion of of a feeding tube through his abdominal wall and which would remove the endotracheal tube and present feeding tube and be more comfortable for John. The morning that the procedures were scheduled, John spiked a fever which did not respond to medications. Early in the afternoon, when the family visited him, John was on a cooling pad (the length of his body). He was shivering and trying to move his legs off the pad. It was obvious that he was miserable. John's gestures were frantic; the look in his eyes was one of confusion as to what was happening to him.
Several days later, John's fever was under control, but his pneumonia had worsened. He appeared to be weaker and he slept more that he was awake. He continued to initiate breathing, with the ventilator assisting in expiration. Once again, the family asked to speak with the physician. He agreed that John might require the respirator for the rest of his life. His family asked if the nursing home would let him return on a respirator and he indicated that they would not. They inquired as to where there might be a facility nearby that would take John. There was a nursing facility that would take ventilator dependent individuals for rehab. The longest he could remain there was a month! What then?? Was there a facility for long term placement? The nearest nursing home able to care for someone on a ventilator was more than an hour's drive away. His wife would only be able to see him occasionally.
Once again the family gathered together to discuss the options for their father and husband. They approached the physician the next morning with their decision to have John gradually weaned from the ventilator and to let him die in peace. This time, as the physician spoke to John, he told them how serious his condition was and that there was a great probability that he would never be able to live without a respirator. The two possibilities that he explained to John were remaining on the respirator or keeping him comfortable while respirator assistance was gradually lessened and he died. John signaled that he understood and plans were made to begin the process within the hour.
As the gradual reduction in ventilator support began, a priest friend of his family had been asked to pray with them. Everyone was gathered around the bed and the image of a large group of people, each wearing white garments and gathered before God was recalled from the Revelation to St. John the Divine. When asked who these people were, an elder responded that they were the ones who had passed through the great tribulation. John was assured that he, too, would soon be one of that multitude standing before God who would say to him, "Well done, good and faithful servant." John's monitor indicated the slowing of his heart rate and the lowering of his blood pressure. Everyone present had the opportunity to hold John and tell him how they loved him. Peacefully and painlessly, John slipped into the open arms of God. As the monitor indicated cessation of life, the priest began, "Eternal Rest grant unto John O Lord....." and the prayers of the family began as John was held in their loving arms and committed to God's care.
The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But... the good Samaritan reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" Martin Luther King, Jr.
John's family never asked the question of the priest and the Levite. Although it was not verbalized, I sense that this was a huge question for the physician. Had John's family not been attentive to his wishes, he would be in some nursing facility; away from family and friends. He would not be able to speak and would be totally dependent upon others and machinery to sustain "life." John has moved now from the poverty of illness, fear of lawsuits that often dictate medical decisions, and total dependence upon others to a new life in the Presence of God.
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Poor in Long Term Care
During the three months that I have served as a chaplain in long term care, I have identified more individuals who are poor for reasons other than lack of financial concerns. Most of these women and men are living on "memory care" units. (think Alzheimer's disease for many of them).
This particular facility has placed chaplaincy/spiritual care, within the Recreation department! I was aware from the first interview that this person wanted me to plan, preside and preach for three Sunday services as well as manage the music, encourage nursing staff to bring residents to the service, and have time in between to run to the next unit and repeat the process! I questioned the wisdom of this plan and asked if we might instead, spread the three services out during the week. "No, they must be on Sunday."
My second concern regarding worship services was the benefit to those on the two memory care units. I agree that worship is important to many people through all stages of life, but I questioned the formality of the service rather than a more relaxed worship where there might be both group activity as well as time for individual and personal interaction. "No, they must be as I have said."
When does the in depth human interaction happen for most of these residents? I've observed the nursing assistants pulling residents in wheelchairs backward where there is no hope of conversation between staff and resident. I have also observed staff members all sitting together at the desk while 30 residents sit in silence in the recreation area, in full view of those same staff members.
Of course, there are staff members who have grumbled because I question the decision to turn a dying woman on her side and facing the wall making it next to impossible for anyone to get near her, hold her hand, speak softly to her. They are the same staff members who don't seem to understand that one need not be left with drool and medication on their chin because they don't know it's there.
My heart and soul ache for these residents. In less than 90 days, I have shown that a resident who mostly vocalized sound and not words, spoke clearly to me when I patiently encouraged her to "use words." She now perks up in her wheelchair and breaks into a smile when she sees me; we wave and smile at each other now.
On these units especially, the sermon is in the presence of Christ visible and tangible through those of us who extend a hand, smile at, speak pleasantly, show consideration and love, to them as would Christ and St. Francis. It is so natural to me, and so confusing to those who make the "rules."
The poverty resulting from lack of individual attention and concern, screams out through the blank looks of some, the uncertainty of people who do attempt interaction, the tears of a woman who spends her day sitting on a bench outside the unit's elevators. "There but for the grace of God, go I" I think to myself. "I'm not budging on this requirement for three worship services on Sundays," the Recreation director insisted. Why can she not recognize that worship and the lessons from the Gospels are being lived through kind words, smiles, a brief time sitting on a couch with a lonely resident....and so many others.
What I have learned is that the push for Sunday worship as described here, is the fulfillment of recreational "activities" during those times. If I don't lead a group activity, "someone would have to be hired to fill those times in order to be compliant." "Yes, and........."
We share the wonder and the love of God with everyone we meet when we celebrate our connectedness and share our experiences and feelings in friendly one on one conversation, an arm around a lonely resident, a question about their day, a wave to everyone in the dining room, a "dance" with a woman in a wheelchair........ Spirituality is about connectedness and that is the starting point in reducing the poverty experienced by many human beings.
This particular facility has placed chaplaincy/spiritual care, within the Recreation department! I was aware from the first interview that this person wanted me to plan, preside and preach for three Sunday services as well as manage the music, encourage nursing staff to bring residents to the service, and have time in between to run to the next unit and repeat the process! I questioned the wisdom of this plan and asked if we might instead, spread the three services out during the week. "No, they must be on Sunday."
My second concern regarding worship services was the benefit to those on the two memory care units. I agree that worship is important to many people through all stages of life, but I questioned the formality of the service rather than a more relaxed worship where there might be both group activity as well as time for individual and personal interaction. "No, they must be as I have said."
When does the in depth human interaction happen for most of these residents? I've observed the nursing assistants pulling residents in wheelchairs backward where there is no hope of conversation between staff and resident. I have also observed staff members all sitting together at the desk while 30 residents sit in silence in the recreation area, in full view of those same staff members.
Of course, there are staff members who have grumbled because I question the decision to turn a dying woman on her side and facing the wall making it next to impossible for anyone to get near her, hold her hand, speak softly to her. They are the same staff members who don't seem to understand that one need not be left with drool and medication on their chin because they don't know it's there.
My heart and soul ache for these residents. In less than 90 days, I have shown that a resident who mostly vocalized sound and not words, spoke clearly to me when I patiently encouraged her to "use words." She now perks up in her wheelchair and breaks into a smile when she sees me; we wave and smile at each other now.
On these units especially, the sermon is in the presence of Christ visible and tangible through those of us who extend a hand, smile at, speak pleasantly, show consideration and love, to them as would Christ and St. Francis. It is so natural to me, and so confusing to those who make the "rules."
The poverty resulting from lack of individual attention and concern, screams out through the blank looks of some, the uncertainty of people who do attempt interaction, the tears of a woman who spends her day sitting on a bench outside the unit's elevators. "There but for the grace of God, go I" I think to myself. "I'm not budging on this requirement for three worship services on Sundays," the Recreation director insisted. Why can she not recognize that worship and the lessons from the Gospels are being lived through kind words, smiles, a brief time sitting on a couch with a lonely resident....and so many others.
What I have learned is that the push for Sunday worship as described here, is the fulfillment of recreational "activities" during those times. If I don't lead a group activity, "someone would have to be hired to fill those times in order to be compliant." "Yes, and........."
We share the wonder and the love of God with everyone we meet when we celebrate our connectedness and share our experiences and feelings in friendly one on one conversation, an arm around a lonely resident, a question about their day, a wave to everyone in the dining room, a "dance" with a woman in a wheelchair........ Spirituality is about connectedness and that is the starting point in reducing the poverty experienced by many human beings.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Preach the Gospel; Use Words if You Must
This morning, I officiated at the funeral of an 86 yr. old woman who had spent the last 14 years of her life in a long term care facility. As I drove to the funeral home, I began to think of just what I wanted to say in my homily. I had only visited this woman a few times before she was actively dying.
Suddenly, St. Francis' words came to my mind: "preach the gospel; use words if you must." I had an image of Janis (not her name) in either her wheelchair or her bed. She was unable to speak much and when she did her disease rendered the words garbled and not easily understood. Despite her inability to verbally communicate, Janis preached the gospel to all she met: She communicated with her eyes. There was a gentle calmness that I perceived as I looked into her eyes. I felt as if Janis accepted her need for help and the absolute necessity for patience with others who, like herself, could not articulate needs or thanks.
Here was a woman who struggled for each breath yet who relaxed when we prayed the rosary. One hand was set in a grasping position while the other gently grasped the hand of anyone sitting with her. Without words, there was an affirmation that sitting with a dying woman and holding her hand was a preaching of the gospel command to love one another. The longer I sat with Janis, the fewer words I uttered. Soon, we sat in silence; "tuned in" to God and one another.
There are some who ask me why I wear my Franciscan Habit in nursing facility. Contrary to what some believe, I wear it because it is a visual clue to those who do not easily comprehend spoken words, that I am a person who brings the Presence and Person of the Christ to them. Certainly this is not the only way this message is conveyed. I often greet residents on the memory units when they are in the day room. I go to each resident, speak to them, and give many hugs. Last week, I dropped into the dining room on one of these units, and the first resident I met hugged me and said, "Now, don't forget to go to everyone and give them a hug." She recognized the need that so many residents have for gentle, physical, caring, human contact.
This is the gospel at work in one of the most effective ways I have experienced it.
Suddenly, St. Francis' words came to my mind: "preach the gospel; use words if you must." I had an image of Janis (not her name) in either her wheelchair or her bed. She was unable to speak much and when she did her disease rendered the words garbled and not easily understood. Despite her inability to verbally communicate, Janis preached the gospel to all she met: She communicated with her eyes. There was a gentle calmness that I perceived as I looked into her eyes. I felt as if Janis accepted her need for help and the absolute necessity for patience with others who, like herself, could not articulate needs or thanks.
Here was a woman who struggled for each breath yet who relaxed when we prayed the rosary. One hand was set in a grasping position while the other gently grasped the hand of anyone sitting with her. Without words, there was an affirmation that sitting with a dying woman and holding her hand was a preaching of the gospel command to love one another. The longer I sat with Janis, the fewer words I uttered. Soon, we sat in silence; "tuned in" to God and one another.
There are some who ask me why I wear my Franciscan Habit in nursing facility. Contrary to what some believe, I wear it because it is a visual clue to those who do not easily comprehend spoken words, that I am a person who brings the Presence and Person of the Christ to them. Certainly this is not the only way this message is conveyed. I often greet residents on the memory units when they are in the day room. I go to each resident, speak to them, and give many hugs. Last week, I dropped into the dining room on one of these units, and the first resident I met hugged me and said, "Now, don't forget to go to everyone and give them a hug." She recognized the need that so many residents have for gentle, physical, caring, human contact.
This is the gospel at work in one of the most effective ways I have experienced it.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Grief, suicide and the poor
Can you imagine being a 29 yr. old male and a resident of a nursing facility? Add to your imagination, that person as gay and one who recently lost his life partner complications of AIDS. By the grace of God, Craig (not his real name) has been supported by his partner's family through these difficult several weeks. He was included in decision making regarding funeral planning, and his wish to have a small companion urn (containing a small amount of the cremains of his partner) was granted.
Craig has a history of depression. This past week, he received the companion urn and has had his partner's cremains at his bedside. He told staff members that he sat holding the urn to his heart and rocking back and forth as he poured out tears of loss, love, and grief.
Feeling unable to cope with his loss, Craig purposefully hiked up a dose of antidepressant medication with the intention of suicide, he became frightened and let staff members know of his actions and intentions. He was sent to the hospital and released later in the day.
Many in society today would respond to this story saying, "If he hurt so much why didn't he turn to his fag friends to hold his hand?" There are still so many places where lesbian and gay men cannot share what is in their hearts and souls and minds. "Safe" staff members knew what was going on with Craig, but they weren't always working. Because so many people didn't know how to respond, they left Craig alone or never mentioned his partner's death.
It seems to me that a large portion of human beings walk through life with blinders on; always looking directly ahead and trying to never meet the eyes of others. If we don't see, hear, or feel other's pain, depression, and confusion, we don't have to respond. If we can keep someone away by judging them unworthy of our attention, we use obstacles such as sexual orientation, race, political affiliation, socio-economic status and others, to alienate them.
Poverty is much more extensive than that which is experienced by those who lack adequate food and water, shelter, and income. Poverty is a part of loneliness, grief, loss, hopelessness. It often is the experiences of parishioners in our parishes, professionals, students, those struggling with decisions such as abortion, and many others who do not "wear the face of poverty" that we expect.
We live in such a disconnected world that we often simply don't take the time to look around us realizing that we are all children of God and called to care about and for one another. Thousands of people in Taiwan have lost their lives due to a typhoon. We acknowledge the loss, yet many of us barely give that loss of life another thought. The more we draw the shades and tighten the boundaries around us the more lacking is our spirituality. As Christians, we are called to embrace the other, to care about them, to comfort them, to do all that we can in a broken world.
If we can give only a passing prayer for thousands of people, how do we remember the individual prayers of the poor within our sight?
Craig has a history of depression. This past week, he received the companion urn and has had his partner's cremains at his bedside. He told staff members that he sat holding the urn to his heart and rocking back and forth as he poured out tears of loss, love, and grief.
Feeling unable to cope with his loss, Craig purposefully hiked up a dose of antidepressant medication with the intention of suicide, he became frightened and let staff members know of his actions and intentions. He was sent to the hospital and released later in the day.
Many in society today would respond to this story saying, "If he hurt so much why didn't he turn to his fag friends to hold his hand?" There are still so many places where lesbian and gay men cannot share what is in their hearts and souls and minds. "Safe" staff members knew what was going on with Craig, but they weren't always working. Because so many people didn't know how to respond, they left Craig alone or never mentioned his partner's death.
It seems to me that a large portion of human beings walk through life with blinders on; always looking directly ahead and trying to never meet the eyes of others. If we don't see, hear, or feel other's pain, depression, and confusion, we don't have to respond. If we can keep someone away by judging them unworthy of our attention, we use obstacles such as sexual orientation, race, political affiliation, socio-economic status and others, to alienate them.
Poverty is much more extensive than that which is experienced by those who lack adequate food and water, shelter, and income. Poverty is a part of loneliness, grief, loss, hopelessness. It often is the experiences of parishioners in our parishes, professionals, students, those struggling with decisions such as abortion, and many others who do not "wear the face of poverty" that we expect.
We live in such a disconnected world that we often simply don't take the time to look around us realizing that we are all children of God and called to care about and for one another. Thousands of people in Taiwan have lost their lives due to a typhoon. We acknowledge the loss, yet many of us barely give that loss of life another thought. The more we draw the shades and tighten the boundaries around us the more lacking is our spirituality. As Christians, we are called to embrace the other, to care about them, to comfort them, to do all that we can in a broken world.
If we can give only a passing prayer for thousands of people, how do we remember the individual prayers of the poor within our sight?
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Preach the Gospel; use words if you must
Preaching the gospel by example is much more difficult than doing so by using words. This morning, I stopped at the long term care center in order to finalize my service format for tomorrow's worship. I am never able to go directly to my office. As I exit the elevator, I turn toward the day room which is often filled with residents.
This morning, there were 23 residents all sitting with absolutely no stimulus except CNN news! There were three CNA's at a back table with one resident and none of them were speaking to the resident. None of them made a move during the 20 minutes that I was in the day room, to speak or interact in any manner with the residents.
I know that many of these residents are non-verbal and others are extremely confused. On the other hand, they always respond when I go to each of them individually and speak to them. Several of the residents anger the others in that they do not speak but rather, simply vocalize in a shrieking voice and another by loudly singing out the melody of songs! I have learned that the first woman is able to speak, but needs to be reminded and have limits set. When I do this, we are able to have a conversation. This is not always an easy time, but I am generally able to have some conversation with her. Once again, the CNA's in the dayroom, looked at me as if I was crazy trying to interact with any of the residents let alone with one who would rather yell than speak.
"Preach the Gospel; use words if you must." Not all those who need a hug and some encouragement are in long term care. I have observed drivers swerve around an obviously intoxicated individual and make no attempt to move that person to safety. I have called 911 for a patrol vehicle to move an obviously intoxicated individual to safety only to be asked if that person is "an Indian." We have all been in crowds so dense that we are nearly piled one upon the other and no one speaks or acknowledges the other in any manner.
Francis understood what the disciples of Jesus couldn't grasp. They became confused with the words of the Teacher and they missed the impact of his actions. Many of us are still confused disciples of the Christ. If we can't say or write what we think, we are immobilized by anxiety and concern that we will not make an impact.
The poor will always be with us. You and I as disciples of Jesus Christ, have an obligation to become one with them, rather than engage in a "them" and "us" recognition of one another. Let's try to speak fewer words and to increase our outward and visible actions to others as we spread the Good News.
This morning, there were 23 residents all sitting with absolutely no stimulus except CNN news! There were three CNA's at a back table with one resident and none of them were speaking to the resident. None of them made a move during the 20 minutes that I was in the day room, to speak or interact in any manner with the residents.
I know that many of these residents are non-verbal and others are extremely confused. On the other hand, they always respond when I go to each of them individually and speak to them. Several of the residents anger the others in that they do not speak but rather, simply vocalize in a shrieking voice and another by loudly singing out the melody of songs! I have learned that the first woman is able to speak, but needs to be reminded and have limits set. When I do this, we are able to have a conversation. This is not always an easy time, but I am generally able to have some conversation with her. Once again, the CNA's in the dayroom, looked at me as if I was crazy trying to interact with any of the residents let alone with one who would rather yell than speak.
"Preach the Gospel; use words if you must." Not all those who need a hug and some encouragement are in long term care. I have observed drivers swerve around an obviously intoxicated individual and make no attempt to move that person to safety. I have called 911 for a patrol vehicle to move an obviously intoxicated individual to safety only to be asked if that person is "an Indian." We have all been in crowds so dense that we are nearly piled one upon the other and no one speaks or acknowledges the other in any manner.
Francis understood what the disciples of Jesus couldn't grasp. They became confused with the words of the Teacher and they missed the impact of his actions. Many of us are still confused disciples of the Christ. If we can't say or write what we think, we are immobilized by anxiety and concern that we will not make an impact.
The poor will always be with us. You and I as disciples of Jesus Christ, have an obligation to become one with them, rather than engage in a "them" and "us" recognition of one another. Let's try to speak fewer words and to increase our outward and visible actions to others as we spread the Good News.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)