Thursday, October 26, 2006
IT REALLY IS FOR THE LORD
Mom and Dad were in ministry together for over 50 years serving with many churches and involved in the lives of thousands of people. Yet when they died we had a simple graveside service and virtually no one even knew them. None of the thousands of people whom they blessed over the years could be present.
It is a hard fact of modern American life that mobility cuts roots. Many elderly move in their last years in order to be close to adult children so they can be cared for. (Or they move for economic reasons.) One result of such moves is the loss of ties. Mom and dad moved here after both began to suffer dementia, so they lost all their ties and were unable to make many new ones.
Another Campbell church member commented that his mother had outlived all her contemporaries. There would be no one at her funeral who knew her as she had been. But, he said, that simply reinforces the truth that all we do really is for the Lord.
While appreciation is, well, appreciated, it is true that in the final analysis who we are and what we do is a matter of our standing before God. We are who we are because of who God is and who we are as his child/servant. Whether others notice or whether there are any left to care when we die is not the point.
On her next to last day, mom was non-communicative but clearly agitated. Nothing seemed to make a difference. My wife finally hit upon placing mom's Bible on the bed and under her hand. Her hand moved across the leather cover seemingly feeling its texture. She quieted down.
Physically a Bible is only paper, ink and leather. But there is a transcendent reality communicated by the Bible. There is something beyond paper, ink and leather. And this incident was not merely paper, ink and leather quieting flesh and blood. Rather, a transcendent reality was quieting a transcendent soul.
Both the Bible and mom's body were placed in the casket. The "good news" announced in the Bible means there is "good news" for mom. Both physical entities will decay, but there is a transcendent reality and life represented by the Bible which will be realized by the deceased.
It is a hard fact of modern American life that mobility cuts roots. Many elderly move in their last years in order to be close to adult children so they can be cared for. (Or they move for economic reasons.) One result of such moves is the loss of ties. Mom and dad moved here after both began to suffer dementia, so they lost all their ties and were unable to make many new ones.
Another Campbell church member commented that his mother had outlived all her contemporaries. There would be no one at her funeral who knew her as she had been. But, he said, that simply reinforces the truth that all we do really is for the Lord.
While appreciation is, well, appreciated, it is true that in the final analysis who we are and what we do is a matter of our standing before God. We are who we are because of who God is and who we are as his child/servant. Whether others notice or whether there are any left to care when we die is not the point.
On her next to last day, mom was non-communicative but clearly agitated. Nothing seemed to make a difference. My wife finally hit upon placing mom's Bible on the bed and under her hand. Her hand moved across the leather cover seemingly feeling its texture. She quieted down.
Physically a Bible is only paper, ink and leather. But there is a transcendent reality communicated by the Bible. There is something beyond paper, ink and leather. And this incident was not merely paper, ink and leather quieting flesh and blood. Rather, a transcendent reality was quieting a transcendent soul.
Both the Bible and mom's body were placed in the casket. The "good news" announced in the Bible means there is "good news" for mom. Both physical entities will decay, but there is a transcendent reality and life represented by the Bible which will be realized by the deceased.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
RANDOM THOUGHTS ON DYING
AIR AND WATER
As I sat with my mother through the dying process, I came to realize how simple life is and how basic are air and water. When she quit drinking, I knew she could not live many days. I went to breakfast one morning and felt badly about drinking a glass of water. But I appreciated it and the significance of it more than ever.
As I sat and listened to mom's breathing, her progression toward death could be tracked by how her breathing sounded. Again, how simple and how important is a breath of air. I found myself comparing her breathing to my own. The difference between us came down to a matter of timing and the depth of breaths. That night in bed I couldn't help but listen to my wife's breathing. And again, it seemed that the only difference between my mom and my wife was the quality of breathing - how fully or how shallowly each one was breathing.
"The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." The breath of life: I witnessed mom's last breath - and life ceased.
Air and water: life is pretty simple and delicate.
POPULATION
The day before mom's death the news was that the population in the US reached 300,000,000. One of the contributing stats to that figure is that a person dies in the US every 13 seconds. Just a stat - until your own loved one becomes one of those "13 second" deaths.
ODDITIES
At such a time senstivities are heightened even if it is in the form of grim humor. Driving back home from staying with mom, I passed by a squirrel that had been hit and killed. It was lying on its back with its paws (do squirrels have "paws"?) straight up in the air. It was a comical sight, but under the circumstances also poignant. One notices such things at such a time.
3 years ago I created an MP3 disc for my daughter to play in her car. It contains every Beatles song. At some point she "lost" it. Last month I got a new car that plays MP3 tracks. Last week my wife found the disc in the garage and gave it to me. I stuck it in the car, but didn't play it until the morning after I had spent all night with mom giving her medication every hour. I popped in the disc and the first song was "It's been a hard day's night and I've been working like a dog. It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log." How odd.
BACK TO THE SQUIRREL
The juxtaposition of seeing the squirrel on the way back from being with mom made me think of Ecclesiastes. Both humans and animals die and the writer wrestled with the distinction between the two. The ultimate disinction is that death is not the end of the story for a person. And somehow we humans know, even intuit that truth.
A squirrel gets run over on the road and left. Mom had care from hospice, family and church. And she was buried with ceremony. But there are people in our culture who run over human beings and leave them on the road. It is hard to imagine a more depraved heart than that.
As I sat with my mother through the dying process, I came to realize how simple life is and how basic are air and water. When she quit drinking, I knew she could not live many days. I went to breakfast one morning and felt badly about drinking a glass of water. But I appreciated it and the significance of it more than ever.
As I sat and listened to mom's breathing, her progression toward death could be tracked by how her breathing sounded. Again, how simple and how important is a breath of air. I found myself comparing her breathing to my own. The difference between us came down to a matter of timing and the depth of breaths. That night in bed I couldn't help but listen to my wife's breathing. And again, it seemed that the only difference between my mom and my wife was the quality of breathing - how fully or how shallowly each one was breathing.
"The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." The breath of life: I witnessed mom's last breath - and life ceased.
Air and water: life is pretty simple and delicate.
POPULATION
The day before mom's death the news was that the population in the US reached 300,000,000. One of the contributing stats to that figure is that a person dies in the US every 13 seconds. Just a stat - until your own loved one becomes one of those "13 second" deaths.
ODDITIES
At such a time senstivities are heightened even if it is in the form of grim humor. Driving back home from staying with mom, I passed by a squirrel that had been hit and killed. It was lying on its back with its paws (do squirrels have "paws"?) straight up in the air. It was a comical sight, but under the circumstances also poignant. One notices such things at such a time.
3 years ago I created an MP3 disc for my daughter to play in her car. It contains every Beatles song. At some point she "lost" it. Last month I got a new car that plays MP3 tracks. Last week my wife found the disc in the garage and gave it to me. I stuck it in the car, but didn't play it until the morning after I had spent all night with mom giving her medication every hour. I popped in the disc and the first song was "It's been a hard day's night and I've been working like a dog. It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log." How odd.
BACK TO THE SQUIRREL
The juxtaposition of seeing the squirrel on the way back from being with mom made me think of Ecclesiastes. Both humans and animals die and the writer wrestled with the distinction between the two. The ultimate disinction is that death is not the end of the story for a person. And somehow we humans know, even intuit that truth.
A squirrel gets run over on the road and left. Mom had care from hospice, family and church. And she was buried with ceremony. But there are people in our culture who run over human beings and leave them on the road. It is hard to imagine a more depraved heart than that.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
ON DECK
Both my parents are now in the ground. My personal circle of life has a huge gap in it.
It is taking a little time to realize how significant the hole is because for a long time mom has not been mom due to Parkinson's and related dementia. As my wife said, the lady in that bed needed to go and in many ways wasn't your mom. The sorrow in all this is not her death last week.
The blessing and the sorrowing has come via the memories since her death that go further back in time. With the coming of family for the funeral came also the stories of mom's life over all the years. We watched slide shows of her life. The blessing in that was to take me back to the lady who was really my mom. Losing that mom is the painful part.
One of my daughters shared at the funeral how mom would read to her and do all the voices and act out all the parts. It was with that memory that the light went on for me and I began to remember the mom that was before the disease set in. In cases of a long-term decline that time of going back to memories before the physical and mental decline is the real blessing that comes from fam
ily and pictures at funeral time.
Mom taught pre-school age Sunday school for 55 years until she was no longer physically able to do so. She was following in her mother's footsteps who did the same for 60 years. Those two ladies taught in the church's Bible school program for a combined 115 years!
But now she has gone on to sit at the feet of the Master.
I remember (dimly) four of my great-grandparents. I remember (vividly) all four of my grandparents. I am now calling up memories of my 2 parents. As I consider the passing of the generations in the circle of life, I confess that I am struck with this serious realization: on deck and due up next at the plate - me.
It is taking a little time to realize how significant the hole is because for a long time mom has not been mom due to Parkinson's and related dementia. As my wife said, the lady in that bed needed to go and in many ways wasn't your mom. The sorrow in all this is not her death last week.
The blessing and the sorrowing has come via the memories since her death that go further back in time. With the coming of family for the funeral came also the stories of mom's life over all the years. We watched slide shows of her life. The blessing in that was to take me back to the lady who was really my mom. Losing that mom is the painful part.
One of my daughters shared at the funeral how mom would read to her and do all the voices and act out all the parts. It was with that memory that the light went on for me and I began to remember the mom that was before the disease set in. In cases of a long-term decline that time of going back to memories before the physical and mental decline is the real blessing that comes from fam
ily and pictures at funeral time.Mom taught pre-school age Sunday school for 55 years until she was no longer physically able to do so. She was following in her mother's footsteps who did the same for 60 years. Those two ladies taught in the church's Bible school program for a combined 115 years!
But now she has gone on to sit at the feet of the Master.
I remember (dimly) four of my great-grandparents. I remember (vividly) all four of my grandparents. I am now calling up memories of my 2 parents. As I consider the passing of the generations in the circle of life, I confess that I am struck with this serious realization: on deck and due up next at the plate - me.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
WAITING
This is written while waiting for my mother to die. Some deaths come quickly, even instantly. Most take a while. It is hard. It is frustrating. It is disorienting.
The disorienting aspect comes from doing the same things you normally do, but always with the reality of a loved one's impending death on your mind. Yesterday I went to Subway for lunch - something I do once a week. It was so odd to do this very familiar, common action, but within a whole different context. I felt like saying, "I'll have a tuna on Honey Oat to go and, by the way, my mother is dying."
Everyone else is just going about their day and business. But my day is anything but normal. Familiar routine is overlaid with something else that is highly significant. And when people say "have a good day" or "how's your day?" what am I supposed to do? Tell the truth? No, but the common courtesy answers are, again, disorienting.
Waiting is hard. We, especially men, are fixers. Some things can't be fixed. Sometimes all you can do is wait. And think. And remember.
Waiting for a loved one to die is a lot like pregnancy. It takes nine months to get used to the idea “I’m going to be a parent.” And there are preparations to be made.
Likewise, the dying process gives time to get used to the idea “I’m going to lose someone.” And there are preparations to be made.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
HOSPICE
I placed my mother in Hospice care today. As I think about the decisions that have had to be made along the way in caring for my elderly parents, I realize that the most difficult part is always the question of timing.
We all know the trajectory of declining parents. My view has been thankfulness for the options available and the care situations that have been possible. The toughest part was not the new situation, but knowing when to make the moves.
The changes we have initiated with my folks over the past 8 years:
- from their long-time home in a rural setting to a smaller home in town
- from that house to assisted living
- from assisted living in Texas to assisted living near us in California
- from assisted living to an Alzheimer's unit for dad's sake
- from them living in the same room in that unit to separate rooms
- from that unit after dad's death to putting mom in a private care home
- and now hospice in that home
In every case the toughest decision was "is it time, yet?" or "is it past time?" My wife commented that in my mother's case we had provided special times for her (such as taking her out to dinner or having her over for holidays) right up to the appropriate point or one step beyond what she really could handle.
I replied that you don't really know they are beyond the point of being capable of something until you go one step beyond. How can you take her out and it go ok, but then say "I don't think we should try it again?" The reality is you do those things until the occasion where it becomes too difficult or dangerous and then you say, "Not again" because it is now clear you shouldn't have tried it that time.
This is the struggle for adult children of declining parents. You don't want to move a parent from the home (nor do they usually want to move) until it is "past" time and there is no doubt it is irresponsible to not act. But there is always risk in this--and struggle and perhaps guilt.
On an objective level of assessment, mom and dad stayed in their own home too long. But part of honoring them was to take the time to get their consent. Of course, that is not always possible. It wasn't in our case when it came to taking the car from dad. He drove past what was truly safe, but finally we had to act even without his agreement.
The challenge is that barring something like a stroke or heart attack, all of these transistions are gradual. It is seldom a case of one day their circumstance is fine and the next day it is clearly not fine. (As is true in so many ways, it is the opposite trajectory of parenting kids. The struggle with kids are the transitions to more independence.)
So the biggest issue with the Hospice decision is not the realization of what Hospice means about mom's ultimate and imminent passing. It was the struggle with not wanting to make the transition too soon or too late for her sake. Unfortunately, such decision struggles are part of the landscape when caring for declining loved ones.
Check your motives; consult with others; commit it to prayer; make the decision; know you did your best.
We all know the trajectory of declining parents. My view has been thankfulness for the options available and the care situations that have been possible. The toughest part was not the new situation, but knowing when to make the moves.
The changes we have initiated with my folks over the past 8 years:
- from their long-time home in a rural setting to a smaller home in town
- from that house to assisted living
- from assisted living in Texas to assisted living near us in California
- from assisted living to an Alzheimer's unit for dad's sake
- from them living in the same room in that unit to separate rooms
- from that unit after dad's death to putting mom in a private care home
- and now hospice in that home
In every case the toughest decision was "is it time, yet?" or "is it past time?" My wife commented that in my mother's case we had provided special times for her (such as taking her out to dinner or having her over for holidays) right up to the appropriate point or one step beyond what she really could handle.
I replied that you don't really know they are beyond the point of being capable of something until you go one step beyond. How can you take her out and it go ok, but then say "I don't think we should try it again?" The reality is you do those things until the occasion where it becomes too difficult or dangerous and then you say, "Not again" because it is now clear you shouldn't have tried it that time.
This is the struggle for adult children of declining parents. You don't want to move a parent from the home (nor do they usually want to move) until it is "past" time and there is no doubt it is irresponsible to not act. But there is always risk in this--and struggle and perhaps guilt.
On an objective level of assessment, mom and dad stayed in their own home too long. But part of honoring them was to take the time to get their consent. Of course, that is not always possible. It wasn't in our case when it came to taking the car from dad. He drove past what was truly safe, but finally we had to act even without his agreement.
The challenge is that barring something like a stroke or heart attack, all of these transistions are gradual. It is seldom a case of one day their circumstance is fine and the next day it is clearly not fine. (As is true in so many ways, it is the opposite trajectory of parenting kids. The struggle with kids are the transitions to more independence.)
So the biggest issue with the Hospice decision is not the realization of what Hospice means about mom's ultimate and imminent passing. It was the struggle with not wanting to make the transition too soon or too late for her sake. Unfortunately, such decision struggles are part of the landscape when caring for declining loved ones.
Check your motives; consult with others; commit it to prayer; make the decision; know you did your best.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
THE POWERFUL WITNESS OF REAL CHANGE
Last Friday night we hosted the City Team recovery program graduation ceremony. This event provides the most dramatic examples of new life in Christ. Many of the graduates spoke articulately about their past (drugs, alcohol, prison, lost parental rights) and the tremendous turn around their lives had taken. Without fail there was praise for God and joy expressed for relationship with him.
As one Campbell member commented to me, "These people have figured out some things that lots of long time Christians still haven't understood."
Here are some (paraphrased) sentiments from the last two graduations that were so powerful.
- I am breaking the generational curse of alcoholism in my family. My children won't have to deal with what I have dealt with because I am stopping the pattern now.
- No more secrets. That is the power of change and recovery. I faced the truth and admitted it to myself and others. My life is an open book. That is how I changed and will stay a changed person.
- Godly character is my goal. That says it all.
- I have learned how to care for others. (All of them acknowledged the absolute necessity of the involvement of other people in their lives and gave heartfelt thanks to many.)
- I can now look myself in the mirror.
- I pay taxes! I am now a productive member of society. (This person said he had never paid taxes in his life. Clearly this new status was one to be proud of and should shame all of us who gripe about taxes.)
- I felt that everyone owed me and all problems were everyone else's fault. I have gone from take, take, take, to giving and learning to be humble.
- I got my child back after losing him to the system due to the mess I had made of my life. I will never go back.
It seems that in middle class churched culture we wrestle with "tweaking" our lives and know that in some ways we should do better. But we so often seem to talk about and play at change. A City Team graduation lets one see real change. Yes, some fall back and have to start over, but the change that is needed and that happens is real change. A lot of us who haven't messed up our lives with drugs, alcohol, or been to prison, still need real change.
Middle class, socially acceptable Christians, still often need to break generational curses in mindsets and relationships. We still need to learn the power of "no secrets." We need to strive for godly character above all. And we need to know the power of caring for others and being cared for by others.
City Team: "By God's grace we provide a space where change can take place." That would be a good motto for a church, too.
As one Campbell member commented to me, "These people have figured out some things that lots of long time Christians still haven't understood."
Here are some (paraphrased) sentiments from the last two graduations that were so powerful.
- I am breaking the generational curse of alcoholism in my family. My children won't have to deal with what I have dealt with because I am stopping the pattern now.
- No more secrets. That is the power of change and recovery. I faced the truth and admitted it to myself and others. My life is an open book. That is how I changed and will stay a changed person.
- Godly character is my goal. That says it all.
- I have learned how to care for others. (All of them acknowledged the absolute necessity of the involvement of other people in their lives and gave heartfelt thanks to many.)
- I can now look myself in the mirror.
- I pay taxes! I am now a productive member of society. (This person said he had never paid taxes in his life. Clearly this new status was one to be proud of and should shame all of us who gripe about taxes.)
- I felt that everyone owed me and all problems were everyone else's fault. I have gone from take, take, take, to giving and learning to be humble.
- I got my child back after losing him to the system due to the mess I had made of my life. I will never go back.
It seems that in middle class churched culture we wrestle with "tweaking" our lives and know that in some ways we should do better. But we so often seem to talk about and play at change. A City Team graduation lets one see real change. Yes, some fall back and have to start over, but the change that is needed and that happens is real change. A lot of us who haven't messed up our lives with drugs, alcohol, or been to prison, still need real change.
Middle class, socially acceptable Christians, still often need to break generational curses in mindsets and relationships. We still need to learn the power of "no secrets." We need to strive for godly character above all. And we need to know the power of caring for others and being cared for by others.
City Team: "By God's grace we provide a space where change can take place." That would be a good motto for a church, too.
