Monday, February 12, 2007

Dearest God,

On my way to the grocery store I decided to visit Jeanette at her home. She recently made a decision to stop the chemo treatments for hospice care. She's ready to meet Tom, her beloved husband.

As I entered her small one-bedroom home, her daughter and granddaughter were with her. We've come to know each other fairly well. Three years ago when Tom was dying in the hospital, his family was distraught, wanting to do something to help him in his final moments. He was semi conscious, uncomfortable, and restless. His family all around him, I suggested we sing his favorite hymns. The voices of his wife and daughters singing calmed Tom, a peacefulness coming over him as he drew his last breaths. They rejoiced that he responded to them. It gave great meaning to the experience.

Jeanette has stopped all medication and she's glad about it. She's in her own home, surrounded by family 24/7. She's weary, no energy. But her sweet spirit is still with her. We talked a bit. Then she got hot and took off her red valentine hearts scarf, baring her head. She's lost most of her hair, just a little baby fuzz. I told her she was beautiful. "Oh..." Yes, indeed I assured her, I had always thought she was beautiful and now she was as beautiful as ever. I looked into her eyes knowing that her days or weeks are numbered and her family is savoring every moment with her. So am I.

Jeanette and her husband used to live around the corner from the church. I visited them once when Tom's back was injured. We had a great time together among all Tom's collection of videos, records and more. I was really sad when Tom died, leaving behind his close family.

When Jeanette was diagnosed with lymphoma, we were all sad. I was angry with her doctor who waited so long to treat her. (The older you are, the less care some doctors give.) She tried one chemo treatment and it made her so sick that she said she wanted to put an end to it. She certainly has the right.

But in her living room as she smiled and the family teased one another, I thought of how different life will be when Jeanette leaves the scene. She is the glue that holds the family together. Like so many matriarchs, she collects family into one place and there they share their love and affection.

As a pastor there are some people with whom you connect. They become part of you as you serve them and serve with them. When they grow ill or elderly, you have to learn to let go, surrender them and journey with them in the last days. This is probably the most precious time I will ever have with them. While it is very difficult because I am a witness to the suffering family, I have my own grief to contend with. With all the pain I help enable persons to die with dignity and hope. I share the glories of heaven, offering words of comfort and peace as they cross over. I've done this with many, many people. It never gets easier, just more beautiful as I begin to comprehend the work of God in the last hours of earthly life.

I am blessed to be in ministry, to love people and to be loved by them, to share our lives, burdens, and hurts together. To pray, to worship, to doubt and ask questions. To laugh and cry, to weep for one another, to rejoice in the Master's love and a sustaining Christian faith. This is ministry in the presence of God.

All things are in order
as they should be
when God takes control.
We are not designed
to wear these fleshly bodies
for very long.
We exchange them
along the way
for something better,
something brighter
and more hopeful.
We wear the skin
of Jesus
and remind others
of his kindly ways.
We cannot hold on
to those we love dearly.
Ours is to love,
then let go,
to release
and to sorrow.
And then praise.
For dear Jeanette
and her family
I offer a special prayer
of thanksgiving.

Always giving thanks, Andrea