I started my day in a country cemetery an hour from my house. One of our hospice patients had died so her family gathered to celebrate her life at the graveside. The last leg of my journey was eight miles on dirt roads, making multiple turns that made me worry that my GPS was directing me to nowhere. I passed cows who were surprised to see me take their picture out of my car window. I passed worn barns. Mostly my view was wooded terrain in a dull brown hue. I was relieved when the last turn led to a small cemetery surrounded on three sides by trees and the rural route from which the mourners gained entry. It was a temperate November day with no rain, sleet or hail. Just gray skies which seemed to fit the occasion.
Through laughter and tears, the small congregation huddled against the damp chill on folding chairs, remembering a woman who was devoted to her family. She chopped wood with her husband and learned to drive when she marked a half century of living. Her community marveled at how hard she worked in her 94 years.
Before the service started, a flock of sandhill cranes were wrapping up a party in the nearby forest. They took to flight before the service began, their chortles serving as a natural opening act. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the Earth welcomes us home. The birds added their cry to the chorus of loved ones who entrusted the deceased into God’s eternal keeping.
From that serene spot, another hospice worker and I traveled to one of our facilities to deliver a birthday muffin and flower bouquet to a woman who is turning 105 tomorrow! She is clear-minded, gracious, and always asks me how I’m doing when I visit. She still prefers to care about others rather than focus on her own needs. She was seated at the lunch table with her companions and described, with surprised humility, how many festivities have already occurred to herald this remarkable birthday. As we wrapped up our time with her, I held both her hands in mine. “May God bless you,” I said. She responded with a smile, saying “God bless you too”. What a gift. I can almost believe she will never die because of the strong spirit she radiates. But she knows–and we know–that this birthday is a celebration and could easily be her last. But it might not be! The ancient door between heaven and earth remains tightly shut, for the moment. What a delightful stopping point on my Saturday morning.
From there, I went into another facility to pray with a man who is on his way out. He told his loved ones yesterday that he was pretty sure he was going to die. But he didn’t. He is still with us and was able to respond minimally but with clarity to questions I asked. I offered a prayer with his family members present. He thanked me twice before I left, finding solace in this last chapter of his earthly life through the invoked presence of the Divine. What a gift. As I prepared to take my leave, he garnered the energy to say clearly, “God bless everyone.” His faithful benediction made me think of the blessing of a fictitious character on the early side of the life cycle, offered through Dickens’ creative genius: “God bless us, everyone!” Sweet tiny Tim with a pure heart is a welcome reminder on this bleak morning that the hope of Christmas is very near.
My final stop was at the home of a patient I have grown to love over the past several months. She maintained a steady strength for quite some time. About ten days ago she took a dramatic turn for the worse and has been lingering between worlds for several days. She worked hard in her time and seems unwilling to let go. Their home is surrounded by outbuildings from the active days of farming. A cornfield delineates their property on one side and a dirt road on the other. Several days before her condition became acute, she and her family noticed an albino deer standing at the perimeter of their yard. The deer looked toward the house and even settled down to rest his legs for a magical moment before meandering into the woods. They showed me a picture of this radiant deer, seeming to pose for the camera. I reminded them that, in the Church, the color white represents purity and is evident in sanctuaries on the holy days of Christmas and Easter. We were, indeed, on holy ground. Loved ones gathered in the warmth of the house where the woman dwells between this world and the next. To be with her is a sacred privilege, a reminder that the veil that separates this world from the next is thin indeed. Her reluctance to let go tells me that she cherishes life on this side of heaven!
I think of the reassuring words of my spiritual direction guru, the Mystic Julian of Norwich. She had a near death experience when she was 30 and was given unique visions that stayed with her throughout her long life. She wrote of them, and they have inspired generations of Christians since her death in the 1416. The promise she offered through her encounter with Jesus was both simple and profound: “All will be well and all will be well and all manner of things shall be well.” Amen!
Preaching Life 