The Road's End is a New Beginning

My Final Week

Field placement at St. Paul's Senior Services ended on a favorite note. My last ministry was Memory Care "Church". I've mentioned this service before, but I'd like to emphasize it again.

Picture this: a roomful of people seated in a large circle. Sound familiar? Of course. It could be any room, any group, any where. But this circle of people is only here, at the Villa, first floor. This circle includes individuals navigating their lives with particular challenges. Their minds challenge them, especially their memories. They mostly still hear and answer and talk as most all of us do. But spend some time with them and you begin to understand why they are in memory care. The challenges they face require care. People to care for them, calm them in distress, and learn to "read" their minds when their minds are confused. I know this is an over simplification, but I want you to see this picture as I've come to see it. These are people, valuable people, people with meaningful histories, people whose lives are not yet completed suggesting they still have importance in and to this world. They have something to give (a beautiful smile), something to say (thank you for coming!), something to do (share their jackets or song books), and lots to teach us about compassion, patience, and Jesus' commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Yesterday, at "church" the folks were gathered in a different place from where we've met in the past. The Villa is undergoing a big redecorating project that has periodically disrupted schedules and locations. I heard that last week was particularly challenging as the noise from workers intruded into "church" causing anxiety and other distress. When Fr. Jason and I arrived the group was also a bit larger than usual--nice. But our books were missing. He and a staff person left to retrieve them from the room formerly used. As they discovered the books had been moved and as they searched for them, I found myself alone with the group. (Note, other caretakers were nearby, just not in the "church" area.) I began to see signs of anxiety. Two ladies were disagreeing about something. Not good. So, I did what any good chaplain would do, I think. I suggested we sing while we waited for our books. I began with a surefire winner, Amazing Grace. We finished all I could recall of it and they still weren't back so I moved on to Jesus Loves Me, also a song in the missing books. Fortunately, they arrived before the end of the first verse. Yay! Everyone was happy to get their books although some had to share. Fr. Jason promised to print up more books very soon. "Church" was happy--lots of smiles, singing along, attentive listening. All's well that ended well.

Earlier this week I returned to PACE Nemeth in El Cajon. First I visited three folks in their residence. Three unique visits with three individuals experiencing three different levels of challenge. Later, Chaplain Louise got several laughs at my descriptions of our conversations. Real life can be very funny even when it is seriously incapacitated. One lady especially enjoyed my reading psalms to her. All of them enjoy the attention of having a visitor. Some of the folks at these facilities actually have no one outside who visits them, ever. As I was saying my last goodbyes to the staff, they commented on that saying they wished for more volunteers to visit, especially those bringing spiritual care. I pass this on to you, dear reader. If you are so inclined...visit the nearest care home to see how you can help.

This field placement has been a source of much learning and stretching of my abilities. This week I also visited a man who told me about starting to smoke at age 6--6! He is 92, he thinks. We had a delightful conversation. At another visit, I just missed the death of a beloved mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. The room was full of her loved ones who had witnessed her final breath. They prepared to wash her body as the hospice nurse completed her notes. We had Eucharist in the Villa chapel again, gratefully, though the redecoration is incomplete. New chairs are coming! And, maybe, new carpet? Such details of my time at St. Paul's mark the moments of my growing awareness. Details make up our lives, color our lives, and pattern our lives in ways that complement the emotions we experience along with them. Our lives are made up of the work we do, the travels in-between, the time spent in conversations of all kinds, the ordinary time at home with family, as well as the orders of our service, our worship, and our ministry.

The end of this experience is more than just checking a box. It is full of gratitude for Fr. Jason who shared so much with me, trusted me, and encouraged me. This road's end marks a new beginning for me. I will take with me to all that is next the memory of the people and the groups and the spaces of St. Paul's Senior Services.

Praise, Peace, Gratitude, and Blessing--Amen.

Loose Ends

It's all coming together. I'm nearly at the end. One more week...

I began this week arriving early for an appointment outside the field placement duties. Then, I tended the necessary office task--prepping bulletins for all the week's services. I enjoy this task. Copying the current week's readings into the template, printing, and copying the anticipated number, knowing all is ready is very satisfying. Often I print more copies than are needed. Seldom do we run out and have to share. I prefer the former. Anticipating, expecting, hoping for a "full" house (even if that is only 10 or 12) is optimistic. I am basically an optimistist. I believe things will turn out okay; everything will work out in the end; all will be well and all manner of thing will be well (to loosely quote Julian of Norwich). Otherwise, despair lurks just outside the door, looking for a way in.

It is possible to hope for the wrong thing, according to T. S. Eliot:

"I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing." 

This is a favorite quote of a former mentor of mine purposed to teach hoping for right things. Often we hope for fleeting things--for some pain to evaporate or for a dreaded task to be done by someone else or for magic to bring good fortune and fame. You, dear reader, know how it is. In the world of ministry, pastoral care, spiritual care, we must place our hope in the right Thing. While doing this field placement, I've also been part of a group being trained in Stephen Ministry. We are taught that as Stephen Ministers we offer care while God provides the cure. We hope in God's cure. 

Here at St. Paul's Senior Services Spiritual Care Department, we place our hope in God's thing rather than our own.

Tuesday the chaplains came together for the monthly meeting and, with the help of our dear Michele, admin assistant, we surprised Fr. Jason with cupcakes for his birthday. The meeting was also my opportunity to thank all the chaplains who have helped me along the way. I summarized the memorial service project interviews I had done into a resource document that Fr. Jason reviewed. One loose end tied up.

Chaplain Louise, at PACE Nemeth, invited me to lead the devotional service earlier that morning while she tended a necessary outside appointment. I was delighted to help in that way. It gave me the opportunity to create a service I thought would meet the needs of the folks at Nemeth and then see how it went in real time. Happily, I think it went alright. I had an interesting time choosing old familiar hymns, finding music downloads to accompany us, and weaving them loosely into a simplified morning prayer. I printed too many copies of the program I typed up based on attendance when I had visited earlier in the summer, but that's okay! Louise mentioned later that a scheduling change had diverted about half of her regulars elsewhere.  

Wednesday I met with Chaplain Bill at PACE Akaloa. I enjoyed a last and inconclusive talk session with a woman I've mentioned before. Dangling ends... Bill and I discussed some of his upcoming plans and shared a prayer for each other. Weaving ends...

Returning to Maple Street, I dropped in on a hospice client I've been visiting all week. I spoke briefly with her hospice nurse. Mostly I just sat with the lady imagining her focused internally on completing her life on this earth. Her breath was uneven, but she was calm and relaxed, unlike on Monday when her agitation kept her searching for a way out of the bed or a more comfortable position or something. I could only pray for God's peace and comfort to accompany her passage. I continue to pray for her wondering if I'll see her again next week.

The week ended on a sad note. Some loose ends just dangle. Fr. Jason and I had planned a final visit with a woman who was moving soon to another facility. I dropped by near the end of my day to confirm we'd see her next week only to discover she had left already! A thread of sadness dangled as I left the building. On one hand I felt I had failed her; on another, I realized that she had been unable to provide full information, unable to update her departure plan. In the complexity of managing one's tasks, sometimes hopes get displaced. She hoped for a closing visit. I hoped to join Fr. Jason for a farewell Eucharist with her. I hoped to send her off with a loving blessing. She hoped being closer to her daughter would improve her quality of life. A dashed hope, a loose end--we must keep hoping, keep waiting with faith and love in the right thing.   

This blog entry ends on a loose note. I can't tie this week altogether into a neat theology. My thoughts defy completion. They dangle and wander. I'll not hope for a thing that might be wrong. I'll let them be as they seek their way home. 

Play Stops

I've created and facilitated two events for the Manor's independent residents: Legacy in Story and  Listening to Soul. This offering contains, for me, much more than just an activities to interest folks. For me the offering is a means of connecting parts of myself into a greater whole. I've been creating and facilitating workshops and retreats throughout much of my professional life. It's been part of my passion and my creativity. I like the entire process of inviting people to consider an opportunity, making that opportunity sound enticing, interesting, worthwhile; creating the opportunity such that those who choose it will experience something new, will be challenged, will take away something unexpected; leading those who come through what I've created, adapting along the way to intuition, circumstances, and challenges; and finally, reflecting on the process so as to grow myself and become more able to do better next time.

As I have ventured along this unexpected path of discernment, ministry, and adventure, I've been sorting through my "belongings", seeing what needs discarding, what needs updating, what needs adding. My wealth of knowledge and experience that I bring to creating learning experiences for individuals and groups is not something to discard. Certainly updating is always appropriate, and adding new elements and content is also desirable. In co-designing this field placement, I readily offered to create a couple of events and my offer was welcomed. So I looked into my tool bag and pulled out a few things I thought might work. Work they did!

Legacy in Story gave participants an opportunity to playfully reflect on their life histories through "windows" of time perspective. Listening to Soul gave others space and time and inspiration to playfully reflect an inner picture of self. Both these workshops or "playshops" gave me an opportunity to connect my past with my present and imagine my future. "Soul" work has long been my passion. Play is the soul's delight. Ministry can be, I believe, nurturing in many ways including playful ways--and not just with children and youth. I've long worked with adults challenging them to reconnect with their playful selves for healing, growth, and transformation. Play sometimes sets us free when nothing else has--free to complete processes of grief, of forgiveness, of resolution and reconciliation.

In Sandplay Therapy, a fundamental key is providing a "free and protected space" for the soul to play, the mind to work, the hands to express, the heart to mend. I will bring this key into my ministry whatever I may do come tomorrow.

These workshops gave me an opportunity to reweave some dangling fragments into my own soul's home. All that I am and all that I do and all that may come are part of God's plan, God's purpose, God's loving gift.

The soul passes through the body like sap in a tree; we are watered by a Divine Breath, we blossom, grow strong. The soul sustains the body and the body sustains the soul. Hildegard of Bingen

A Favorite Stop

One of my favorite stops each week is the Memory Care Devotional Service. It's the last thing on Thursday, so it often ends my week on a high note. It follows The Assisted Living Eucharist Service in the chapel downstairs. That has been meeting in the dining room the past two weeks during redecoration of the Villa. People walk by, talking as they go, ignoring we who are engaged in the ancient tradition of remembrance. After saying goodbye to the regulars and any others, I head upstairs.

When I arrive, the residents of Memory Care are already gathered in a large rectangular room with a ring of chairs around the wall on three sides. The short window side is open for me to drag my chair over. That also means I get to control the window which sometimes needs closing due to noisy garbage trucks that arrive at what seems to me an odd time. But, I guess, they have to be somewhere at 2:30 on Thursday afternoon. Don't we all!

Jennifer, the staff person normally with the people announces "Church". They've just finished another activity--sometimes a music time; sometimes a movement activity. We immediately go into "church" mode.

The past two weeks I've led this service alone as Fr. Jason has been unexpectedly called elsewhere. I like leading this service, as I said. A small booklet has been prepared that alternates easy songs with familiar psalms, a scripture, and the Lord's Prayer. It's the same every week. It's passed out and everyone is ready. One lady takes the lead in getting us started. She is always ready. She also makes comments along the way sometimes--simple observations about the selections. She often "leads" us with symbolic arm gestures. Another lady usually naps through most of the service. Some carefully read along without making any sound. Some skip around, sing bits they catch on to, and otherwise, participate to their own drums. I love that.

Another lady appears perfectly oriented. She sings all the songs, speaks appropriately, is appreciative. I could be flummoxed if I didn't realize why she is there. They are gentle souls, for the most part. There is the occasional objection, misunderstanding, or unexpected behavior. It mirrors what might be seen anywhere with any group of worshipers.

What is clear, these folks are present to the moment. Nothing else really matters. They aren't planning what they are going to say when asked to speak. They aren't making their shopping list or worrying over the laundry that isn't getting done. They are there for church, or not. I wonder about their histories. Has she been a church-goer all her life? Did she hate church and never go when she wasn't scheduled into it? Was she raised Jewish? Would she be horrified to be at a Christian service if she had a choice? Is all this a mystery to her? I wonder...

After the Lord's Prayer I invite the participants to offer gratitudes--things they are thankful for. This is not an easy task, apparently. A few offerings are made--for the beautiful day, for example. Most just stare at me. I make some suggestions--for the loving care they receive; for having a nice place to live; for family and friends. I offer my own thanksgiving for three wonderful granddaughters. They smile.

I think about family culture in Jesus' day. Elders with family would be living with family, cared for by family, embedded in the routines of family life. Those without family--widows, they are often called--might be beggars, destitute and vulnerable. Life would not linger without the safety and care of an extended family. People likely died young and painfully and without mercy. Jesus came to change all that, reminding us to care for others as though we were caring for him. It's the least we ought to do, he implied. Things were difficult in his time.

I am grateful for homes like those affiliated with St. Paul's. I am grateful for the spiritual care that is at the heart of their mission. I am grateful to be with these lovely people a half-hour on some Thursdays to sing "Jesus Loves me", ""How Great Thou Art", and other old familiar hymns and songs. And I am sad for those without such homes and supports--those who are refugees, those who are too poor, those who have no one to help them access the services and care that would be available if they could. Seldom does anyone just go out on the street and bring people in to safety and a warm meal. We presume individual initiative trumps our taking over. We presume choice. We presume...

One lady I spoke with recently fears having to move to a higher level of care. She says it will cost $6000 a month. I fear that too! Who can afford that? Something is deeply wrong in our society that a frail elderly lady must worry over such as that. Despite our complex and highly organized systems of care, something is missing. True compassion? Peace of mind? Generosity? Equal allocation of resources? You should hear some of the stories from a friend of mine who volunteers at a day center for homeless elders. They are sometimes almost beyond comprehension. How did we get here? Where are we going from here? What plate do we as Christians need to step up to?

Brief Stops

Field Placement Week of July 30th

This was in part a week of brief stops--unexpected short visits, quick observations, temporary accommodations--and a few jumps to the next thing. Birthdays were celebrated. Meetings held. It was a mixed bag of a week.

I visited Akaloa on Wednesday and met again with the youngest woman in St. Paul's, perhaps. She is a woman with life-long disability, a determined woman, yet a hopeful woman--one who imagines a future possibility for herself if she can just get her ducks in a row. This is a woman who has dealt with disabilities beyond the actual birth condition that befell her. She has struggled with the disabilities of schools unable to see her potential, of relatives unable to recognize her need for independence, and today, of policies and programs and funding unable to accommodate her dreams. I know something of her struggles through my experience with my disabled daughter. We can meet on some common ground. Our encounters--brief in the larger scheme of things--are brief stops in her life. I can't do much for her beyond a suggestion here or there, brief mention of possibilities she might have missed or might be overlooking these days. My visit is but a blip on her screen.

Similarly, brief stops to others I try to catch weekly constitute minimal exposure--me to them; them to me. How long will we remember each other? Not long, I imagine. In four more weeks, how much can I do?

I am reminded of Jesus' travels around Galilee and to Jerusalem and back and into the hills and back. Some were able to drop everything and follow him. Others, undoubtedly were constrained by such demands no one could ignore. Yet, in those days, the extended family had a different structure and context than we have today. Some were able to say, "I'm following him!" while babies and the sick and the disabled were tended by others. Gardens and fields and flocks were tended. Water was carried. Clothes were cleaned and mended and lengthened for growing boys and girls. Food was prepared and served. Somethings have not changed. Some had to stay home to keep the life of the family living.

Some of Jesus' stops were brief. I think of the woman at the well. I recall his pause for the woman with the hemorrhages. And there was the moment with his mother at the wedding in Cana. Brief stops with potent impacts.

My field placement is a brief stop at St. Paul's. I see a future developing as days pass--a future I will not be part of. It is part of my journey following Jesus. It has both Mary and Martha parts. Sometimes I tend the ailing; sometimes I listen and learn. Brief stops along the way. Blips? Or potent impacts? As we are taught in Stephen Ministry, we are simply caregivers; God is the curegiver.

Moving Toward

Field Placement Week 7

I've been visiting a woman weekly who I first met at a worship service. Later, her name was given to me as someone who might want a visit. She did accept my visit that day, and I've visited her every week since. We've talked about a lot of things, mostly past and present. Future ideas remain largely unspoken. I sense she is moving toward the end of life. I can't say for sure. I'm not making a prediction. I sense something, and I think it is something like disappointment. Her comments have alluded to frustration with waning abilities, regret for things left undone, and a lingering sense of how her family needs her--needs she can no longer fulfill. In past weeks she has bounced between such comments and statements of faith and acknowledgment of things done. This week she seemed particularly bereft as though a large store of energy had been depleted and she had no means of replenishing it. After just a short time, she said she didn't feel up to a visit. I asked if we could pray before I left. She agreed.

In contrast, another woman I have visited is a woman who was introduced to me as someone "probably not long for this world". My exchange with her has been minimal, but over the past few weeks, I've witnessed evidence of feistiness that I interpret as very much alive in her world. From the first visit, she has managed brief but distinct awareness. I haven't had sufficient conversation to ascertain any reflection regarding moving toward her death. What I wonder about is whether she does in fact see herself that way. What is her perception of how close she is to death?

Another contrast is with a woman in the Memory Care section that, though appearing strong and healthy in body, indicates serious loss of cognition. What is her sense of moving forward? What is she moving toward? This woman seems to recognize me, greeting me with a big smile and holding lengthy eye contact, but I know it isn't me she is remembering. In fact, her response is likely to me as something new in her world that day. She is receptive and, in turn, responsive.

I move toward each of these woman, and others, each week in faith that what is happening that day for them is meaningful, is part of their personal story, is relevant in the larger view of things. I listen because I want to know. I respond because I value them as humans with whom I share earthly space. We breathe the same air. We are made of the same substance. We are moving toward the same ending. It may not appear on the outside as a "happy ending" or it might. It isn't happy I am after even though culture and society often demand such endings, ultimately, even if superficially. We only accept dystopia as a way of contrasting our own less-than-happiness. In this broad contrast, the Good News of Christ can be overshadowed by the here and now. Lady 1 above seems very much aware of the contrasts she bemoans. Lady 2 may bring her feistiness to bear in her effort to stave off the contrasts. Lady 3 perhaps has moved forward to a place where everything is here and now in the briefest form of that cliche, without contrast. Who among us--them and me--moves toward our ending with the greatest ease? With the greatest trust in the promise of life everlasting? With the greatest peace, despite the trials of our humanity?

Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to the span of your life? Where did we get the idea that more is better? What are we moving toward?

Moving Deeper

Field Placement Blog 
Week 5

Four participants attended the workshop, Legacy in Story, held Monday afternoon at the Manor. An overarching goal was to broaden the impact of the Spiritual Care Department beyond the "regulars" who attend its weekly events. To this end, I planned a topic that might have broad appeal to those not readily responsive to spiritual topics, but which would also connect to spiritual interests. I used the image of the hero's journey, adapted to reveal the "heroic" journey of everyone's life. The purpose was to encourage participants to take a fresh look at their own life experience through a familiar lens and/or to take a new look using an unfamiliar lens so as to tell their story/stories to friends and family reimagined in transformative ways. As Carol Pearson in The Hero Within writes, "Heroism for this age requires us to take our journeys, to find the treasure of our true selves, and to share that treasure with the community as a whole—through doing and being fully who we are. To the degree that we do so, our kingdoms are transformed."

This latter approach particularly invites looking at the less desirable corners of life, e.g., areas of disappointment, perceived failure, loss, and the unreconciled. To encourage this, I tried to offer a safe space that would not demand emotional disclosure or factual self-report. Yet, I included examples of these in my overview and explanations. As Jesus modeled inclusivity through his everyday life socializing with and responding to outcasts of many stripes, we too can model acceptance by leading the way in disclosure or self-report. I assure you no "outcasts" attended this workshop, but when I offered an illustration of one of my personal "failures," one participant in particular laughingly identified, saying she too had "failed" in the same way. We then laughed together recalling our youthful folly. Through such acceptance, the most reticent member of the group gradually relaxed into its receptive atmosphere. 

I thought this week about Bette Davis' saying that "Old age ain't for sissies". As I visited different facilities and a number of elders in each, I recognized heroes all around. One woman with smooth, pure white hair has an elegant face carved with beautiful evidence of a richly expressive life. A group of PACE participants cheerfully painted flowers with full respect for lines and details. A sweet lady cuddled her familiar, an infant-sized babydoll, as she wandered a bit among the crowd. I listened to descriptions of home and history and everyday experiences taking the bus as well as worries over housing, loss of precious ability, and neglectful children. And one woman spoke with deep gratitude for her PACE, highlighting all the reasons she is pleased to be there--the people, the good food, the clinics. 

I encouraged the participants on Monday and an ailing woman alone in her room on Tuesday and a disabled woman hoping for a second career on Wednesday to be their own heroes. I recall a quote from the Tom Hanks character, Joe, in the film, Joe Vs. the Volcano, who, after waiting in vain for a rescue, realized, "I am my only hope for a hero". Joe, like Jesus, recognized that we each must live our own lives. We each must take responsibility for its heroic journey. We each must carry our own crosses, face our own destinies, and, ultimately, tell our own stories in the best way we can. And, like Jesus, in the most painful and frightful moments of our lives, we can call upon our God for help beyond imagining.  

Moving Outward

Field Placement Blog 4

Week 4:           Moving Outward

Monday Fr. Jason and I drove out to visit St. Paul’s PACE Akaloa in Chula Vista to meet Chaplain Bill. PACE is a program of all-inclusive elder care with a variety of services available. The focus of this meeting was to overview a grief project Bill and I will work on together. He has laid the groundwork for a ministry that we hope to expand to other PACE sites and, perhaps, to benefit the entire organization. This project addresses one of my field placement goals, so I was anxious to begin. However, I will save the details for a future post. Bill and I coordinated our calendars to find dates when I will return. 

Upon our return to home-base we learned of a going-away-party for a staff member. Who can turn down an ice cream social? Plus, it afforded an opportunity to connect with the Activities Director at the Manor regarding the flyers that I had finalized earlier for the upcoming workshop. Those discussed and delivered, ice cream eaten, it was time for some visiting at McColl. I returned to visit the little lady from last week to find she was away for hospital care. Instead, I met a recently arrived man very hard of hearing. His room was across from the nurses’ station, so our conversation was broadcast to all! We chatted about the photos on his wall, I prayed for him, and we spoke back and forth. I actually understood almost nothing he said. And, so I am not sure I responded appropriately, but he was cheerful enough about the whole thing. I try to err on the side of caring. Another lady seems to always be sitting in the lobby when I arrive. She remembers and greets me enthusiastically. We chat briefly.

Tuesday morning is service bulletin preparation time. Fr. Jason was out getting a tooth examined so we didn’t have to bump into each other around the computer. There were other organizational details to manage—a Care Bear to approve (I just convey messages between Fr. Jason and Chaplain Louise as I have no power to approve anything!), a meeting to schedule, so again it was afternoon before I made it to visiting time. 

I went straight to the woman at the Villa to check on her progress. She was in her room resting. I can’t say more comfortablybecause right away she noted her pain was not improved and she hoped her doctor would give her a shot of something later in the week. Still she seemed glad to see me and I drew up a chair. She has a way of getting right to the important stuff. She likes to talk “spirituality” and she willingly shares her life and history. A nurse had given her a stuffed giraffe connected to a baby giraffe. She had named the baby but couldn’t decide on a name for the mother. I mentioned that I had seen giraffes in the wild in Africa and a few of the details I remembered from my safari. This drew us into recollections of travel in her past arriving at the Vatican in Rome. So, we were once again at the heart of her spiritual world. Eventually we closed with prayer. Or, I prayed, first asking what she would like prayer for. One thing she mentioned seemed unnecessarily heavy to me and so I prayed such that when she heard my phrasing, she laughed out loud. I loved it! Often the best we can do with the burdens we have is to try to “lighten up”!

 Wednesday, I drove to PACE Nemeth to meet with Chaplain Louise. I arrived in time for her worship service. Afterwards, we discussed a plan for me to visit a lady I met at the service who has no one in the world! We scheduled three visits over the remainder of the summer. Perhaps I’ll be able to fit in one more. I’m sure I’ll have updates for a future post.

This weeks’ time on-site closed with the devotional service with the Senior Day participants followed by a visit at McColl. My little lady with the oxygen machine was back from the hospital. She slumped in her wheel chair with what appeared to be great effort. She seemed to want prayer but couldn’t name anything she desired beyond saying she’d like to lie down. I didn’t stay long, feeling that my presence was too heavy for her to bear. She is a tiny wisp of a woman, barely able to speak above a whisper, breathing, it appears, only because the oxygen machine pushes air in. I wondered if she could say what she wants, if she’d ask to have it removed. 

It’s a thin line, it seems, between trusting in and allowing God and supplanting God with willful human machinations. Of course, I would never project my view on anyone. But I do wonder just how moveable is the threshold that is death—if it can be moved at all. Perhaps that is a question for the far reaches of inter-stellar space. Perhaps only out there could we obtain the perspective to rightly answer it.

Moving Forward

Field Placement Blog 3

Week 3:           Moving Forward

Right off the top, plans change. No trip to El Cajon this week! Hopefully, next week. Monday morning, we reshaped the plans for the week, organizing tools for my tasks. I will be updating the templates for the services at the Manor, the Villa, and the Senior Day Program, printing the originals, and making copies. While this doesn’t demand new learning, it is a pleasure because it facilitates the worship services provided for these locations. At the Manor and the Villa and the Plaza, Fr. Jason celebrates Eucharist. At Senior Day and the Villa are devotional services with singing, scripture, and prayers. This week we used the Collect and Lessons for Independence Day. No services were held on the 4^th due to closures on the holiday. Everywhere we visited, preparations were in the works for bar-be-ques or other celebrations. We were also able to get some of the workshops planned last week on the calendar and I’ll get those flyers complete and posted first thing next Monday.

My other task this week was writing an article for the next Messengerissue which will focus on St. Paul’s. Our article is toward an effort to enlist an altar guild to help Fr. Jason tend the services demanding stain-free linens and clean cups and patens. It turns out that some volunteers have stepped up to help the Manor chapel. But the other chapels still need help, so the article will proceed as planned. 

 Twice this week I visited residents at McColl and the Villa. I requested suggestions from front desk staff and was given a short list of names and room numbers. Upon arrival at the rooms, some declined a visit, others welcomed me. One woman who is likely to die soon mostly slept during my visit. She responded when spoken to and agreed to a prayer on her behalf. Otherwise, I simply sat with her, being present to a few of her remaining moments. The CNA came in to take vitals and had difficulty getting her hands warm enough for a reading with the electronic device he used. As I sat with her, I wondered about her—who she would be leaving behind; how she had lived her life. Her breath was regular, assisted by an oxygen machine. After a time, I said goodbye and moved on. I had hoped to return to her room the next day but did not. I’ll check in next week. 

I also chatted with a man waiting in the lobby for a ride to get some tests. There had been a scheduling snafu, so his wait was longer than expected. But he was in good spirits. He volunteered details of his interesting past working in amazing places around the world doing several different things. He was anxious to get this test done so he could, hopefully, soon go pick up his RV and relieve friends of tending his dogs. Don’t we all want life to get back to normal when our foot is bandaged up or our nostrils are attached to a machine or our whole body just isn’t cooperating?

Another woman I had previously met at Eucharist. She remembered me, and we had two engaging conversations. The first day I visited she was feeling poorly, uncomfortable, and frustrated with herself and the conditions she felt forced to live with. Isn’t this just the way that we often think when our bodies betray our desires, our age insists on its limitations? She had very recently been much more active and was suffering the loss of her mobility and freedom. The next day she was up in her wheelchair, dressed and lipsticked! She was less frustrated with her residence, but more so with her son who was having frustrations of a different kind. As we talked and she shared bits of her life, I reflected on the emotional ties that both hold us together and bind us perhaps unnecessarily. This is a woman of great faith who is particularly curious about me and my role as chaplain intern. She contrasted what I shared with ideas she once held about what she might have done in service had she had the chance. 

Sometimes upon arrival at a room or scheduled event there is a delay and we wait in the hall or the foyer or the lobby. Even in the waiting there is ministry—time to pause and take stock of “the list”, time to stop in the bath room or get a drink of water or reply to a text that we’ll be 15 minutes later than planned—ministry to self and others waiting on the other end of the day’s agenda or week’s calendar or summer’s field placement. It is our life’s surround that holds us firmly in place and makes us able to drive back tomorrow and try again. It is God's grace that strengthens us to walk into a darkened room to minister to a stranger.

Settling In

Field Placement Blog 2

Week 2:           Settling In

I’m feeling much more comfortable this week—knowing what’s what, what’s where, and who’s who. Tuesday, we visited the Plaza site in Otay Ranch-Chula Vista. This beautiful new multi-focused facility is impressive. Jason expected to celebrate the twice-monthly Eucharist service, but it had been accidentally left off the daily events list. The “regulars” were either nowhere to be seen or having a late lunch. So, we went to Plan B. We met with the activities director to discuss the omission and other matters. Then we tried to visit a resident. She was not at home. Lesson: somedays things just don’t go as planned. But the extra time made a stop to purchase supplies possible.

Tuesday we also mapped out some specific tasks for meeting my learning goals. We’ve been discussing ways to capture interest that might draw more participants into Chaplaincy Dept. offerings. I designed a couple of workshops that I hope will have broad appeal. We met with the activities director at the Manor about scheduling—now waiting for her input. We will also offer them to the residents at the Plaza. The first is titled “Legacy as Story”. It is designed to help participants reframe their life’s story to reveal its “hero’s journey” to benefit family and friends. Secondly is “Listening to Soul”. This workshop will explore cross-cultural imagery about soul and use “Sandplay” as an expressive medium for inspiration, reflection, and self-expression. Sandplay is a Jungian-oriented expressive process using, in this setting, small bowls of sand and small-scale objects from the natural and created worlds. 

I’ll also be working to create a template for all the chaplains to use in creating and offering periodic events of remembrance for resident/participants who have recently passed. These might be quarterly at each site. Plus, an annual organization-wide event is also possible, perhaps as a Thanksgiving tie-in.

I led the Senior Day Worship Service on Tuesday as Jason was called away to McColl for a resident’s passing. This service includes scriptures, prayers, singing, and a short simple message based on the gospel.  It serves seniors in the intergenerational day program. Twice daily the seniors are joined by older day care kids for joint activities. Some participants have requested something more—maybe a Bible verse discussion group. Also, the CNA asked about musical visitors to entertain and share. I have some ideas about responding to this query I will explore next week.  

We hoped to visit the third PACE location, Akaloa, and meet the chaplain there, but twice, scheduling factors postponed this plan. It’s at the top of the list for next week. 

Last, in my unscheduled time, I visited residents at McColl including the roommate of the resident who recently passed. I first checked with the nurse at the desk for suggested names/room numbers. The first listed was not in her room, but her roommate welcomed a visit. One gentleman declined a visit preferring alone-time. The last on the list was a woman I met last week with her daughter. Her daughter was again visiting, but the resident was feeling poorly. This visit was short. I then stopped by the Manor lounge and met a lovely woman who was waiting for a friend to pick her up for lunch. She was chatty and fun, happy to tell me about herself and some of her life history. As an immigrant from England, she and her husband, now passed, certainly had an interesting life journey. I hope she will show up for the workshop as she is exactly the kind of person we hope to interest. I asked if she’d met Chaplain Jason. She had not. I think of the many others like her we might meet during the summer. I always remind these folks I visit that we chaplains are only a phone call away. 

I ended this week with the workshop “sing-along” in Memory Care at the Villa. This happy service follows the Eucharist in the Assisted Living chapel downstairs. The ladies and one man mostly brighten up and sing along with the old familiar hymns. Familiar scriptures are dispersed among the songs. One lady is quite enthusiastic, especially with helping her neighbor stay on the right page of the booklet. She really didn’t want us to leave as she was ready to sing more. Another napped through most of the time. I know music is important in memory care and it’s such a pleasure to attend this short service. Whether they are reading along or singing from memory, most of them sing along word-for-word, mostly.We had to compete with the garbage truck outside, but who cares! It’s all about the worship, the sharing, the loving.

My mini-message to the day residents was on Jesus’ commandment to love one another. These first two weeks I’ve shadowed Jason a lot, watching not just what he does, but how he does it. His warm presence with individuals and groups despite the humidity or the noise or other interruptions is always in evidence. His schedule is a continual stream of movement between sites, services, and situations. He flows with grace and humor. His “parish” is large, diverse, and far-flung. It’s a lot to manage and hold in love. I am fortunate to have this learning experience.

Tours and Introductions

                                                                                                

St. Paul’s Senior Services

Week 1:           Tours and Introductions

St. Paul’s Senior Services has generously welcomed me for field placement this summer. Lead Chaplain Jason Samuel has taken me under his wing with energy and enthusiasm. I’m starting a bit late due to various bumps on the road, but now it’s smooth going. My calendar is set, the commute logistics are configured, and only parking remains to keep me on my toes. Finding a non-metered, non-time-limited space is a competitive sport in the neighborhood around the core sites of this multi-faceted organization. The goal is to avoid long hikes. On the other hand, they are a good cardio fitness boost! So maybe I should welcome them. This is an example of how the ministry ministers back—you get more than you give.

So far, I’ve visited all the sites but one, not counting those serving the recently homeless. I’ve attended two Eucharist services and one worship service in memory care and one is adult daycare. The participants at the two worship services enjoy singing and hearing scripture. I’ve toured the accessible areas of the sites and met the staff who can direct me to activity locations, explain what’s going on, and make introductions to residents and others. It’s a lot to take in!

The highlight of this first week resulted from an unexpected on-my-own day. At the Villa—assisted living and memory care—I discovered a fun activity just beginning. Inspired by the theme “Christmas in June”, the participants were invited to make small “gingerbread houses” from graham crackers, frosting “glue”, and an assortment of small candies for decorating. I sat nearby to watch, but was quickly drawn in. Being a crafty type, I had ideas about the tasks of getting the cracker walls and roof to hold up. With trial and error, I first figured out that the walls needed to be “glued” to the paper plates first if they were ever going to stand up. Some other things we learned together:

·     Too much frosting soaks the crackers and they collapse into a gummy mess

·     Sticky fingers pull apart what you just tried to stick together

·     Keep trying, it may stick next time

·     Laugh when the ceiling falls in and when the walls collapse and when your fingers are covered in frosting “glue” because it really is funny

·     Messy crafts are more fun when you can eat the craft supplies

·     The laughter is the fun part

I had to ask myself, “is this proper ministry for a chaplain?” The answer is, “Yes! Definitely yes!” I call it sweet laughing ministry. I’m putting it on my schedule every week! Some of you readers may have attended a Laughter Therapy session that was popular a few years ago. The craft time above reminded me of those. Laughter generates more laughter and lightens heavy loads. 

This week closed with looking ahead: What tasks can I take on weekly to support the work of pastoral care? How can my expertise and gifts be used to enrich the offerings to the residents and participants? How can I support and learn from the entire chaplaincy team?