Tuesday, March 27, 2007

My dearest God,

The changes in life are extremely painful sometimes. I got a call from a son who asked me to pick up his mother from the doctor's office. She had just learned she could never drive again. She was shocked, confused, pained. The doctor at the Institute for Aging had obviously performed a geriatric evaluation, only either she didn't know it or had forgotten it.

We talked while I drove her home. I was glad to be asked. Comfort and compassion were needed at this moment. I could give it. We tried to make sense of the doctor's visit, but it made no sense to her. I was certain I understood. Only how do you tell someone they have entered a new arena in life, one that is less certain, restricting? You embrace them; that's how. You try to offer a simple idea that life is changing and persons are concerned, especially family. You are losing some capacities that keep you safe, secure. Then all of a sudden, someone else picks up the reigns to your life and begin to steer you in another direction. A car, driving is the key to independence, freedom. Her life choices are narrowing. I wanted to wave the proverbial magic wand and transform her into a healthy, bright-eyed, clear woman who still had lots of life before her. Oh, not that life is over; it's just taken a dramatic turn.

I hugged her when I left, tears falling from her eyes. A friend was waiting for her when she got home. I am sure she will find support in this man who cares deeply for her.

As I returned to the office, I spoke with a woman who is going through one of the toughest times of her life. However, she told me that she is experiencing the presence of God moment by moment. Pain on one side, peace on the other. They can and do exist together, at least for the one who is open to a personal encounter with God.

Learning to take our painful times and turn them into opportunities to meet God afresh are plentiful. Lord, when I witness suffering and know your transformative power, I give thanks for faith. I attempt to woo persons to your side where they can cry out their pain and find solace that is deep and abiding.

While my day in no way was lived the way I planned it, I recognized the signs of God all over. This was God's day, not mine, planned with God's purpose in mind. What more can I say?

Compassionate God,
signs of your presence
are evident.
In doctor's offices,
on the phone,
on the ground
and in the air.
We do not live
in a sterile environment;
God is with us.
The one with an eye for God
will see the Divine,
every time.
Keep my own eyes focused
so I will not miss
one spectacular view
of your presence.

Love, Andrea