Prayer Memory
T
oday I was a chaplain. I’d been gone from my post (a long term care facility + assisted living + adult day + short term rehabilitation) for almost a week and returned to find two residents had enetered eternal life. My last time at this wonderful place I made a personal commitment to spend more time with those residents in the memory care units. These are people living with dementia or alzheimers. Here is what I’ve learned about these people: they’re in there. Even though they may not turn their heads to see who entered the room, they may speak in a garbeled fashion, they may not be able to care for themselves, they may not remember current events or who you are: they’re still in there. This was driven home today by my visit.
My first stop was to T. He is a Veteran, husband, father, former golfer and bowler and business owner. He yells out a lot. It is just a stage of the diesease, kind of like a mental tic. He can’t help it and most often means nothing by it. To get to T’s room I walked the lenght of the hall stopping to ask the CNA’s (invaluable people!) how it was going. T was yelling. I entered and announce my presence, introducing myself to him. We talked. He answered me a few times. I put my hand on his shoulder. He was calm. I talked with him of the weather, the Badgers and Packers, bowling, my dog, anything that came to my mind. Finally I asked if he’d like to pray the Lord’s Prayer. He just looked at me, which is rare. So I started in and he joined in. He remembered every word.
Going down the hall there was MA in her room, cozied up in a blanket. I knocked and entered, greeted and introduced. (I always introduce myself. They have the right to know and I NEVER expect any resident to remember me.) We talked just a moment. Before I left I prayed the Lord’s Prayer again. She sat silently with her eyes closed. She nodded at the ‘Amen.’
The resident centenarian also got a visit from me. Her noisy bird about chirpped me out of the room. She clutched my hand while we talked. She worried about her loss of mind and memory, that is how she put it. She told me of her wonderful parents and one of her 7 siblings. She talked of her work as an infant nurse. Eventually we prayed together, in the Protestant fashion since she is. She was so happy to pray. She too knew every word.
Finally I met with LK. He is a yeller extrodinaire. He would be so embarassed if he understood what was happening. He yells for help every 5 seconds. I counted. He is in emotional distress, not physical. Visits fromt he chaplains are important to him. When I asked LK questions he answered in a yelling voice. I’m convinced he has no idea that he is hollering, to him it is communication. The staff let him yell and don’t ask him to stop. As often as they can they ask him what he needs or offer him things. Even when we’re in the room he yells for help. I’m saying this to convey that it isn’t that he always needs help or that he even knows he’s asking for it. Anyway we talked and prayed together. He was rapt as I lead the Lord’s Prayer. In several places he said (yelled) the right words. He was right there with me, praying with his whole heart. It was wonderful. He had about 20 seconds of peace. Then the yelling started again.
What we learn as children really does last our whole lives through. In this case these individuals all leanred the Lord’s Prayer and regardless of state responded to it. They knew exactly what was meant. To me that is a holy miracle. Our hearts belong to the Lord long after our minds loosen the edges of comprehension.
Family Dance: A Week in Review
For a moment this week it looked as though we had raised Alex P. Keton. Carter declared his support for John McCain, saying that at school someone told him that McCain follows the Bible. Carter believes in Jesus and the Bible so he felt that was the right person to support. (Note: he is 5) So we read the beattitudes to the boys, passages from Isaiah. We told Carter and Anderson how we believe the Democrats support the work of God by sharing resources and respecting human dignities. That really changed Carter’s attitude. Plus, he saw how much Obama means to us.
When we lived in Iowa, I caucused for Obama. Paul, after a stint in the Edwards group, eventually joined the Obama cause. We moved to Wisconsin where we sported our Obama/Biden lawn sign, talked about them every chance we got, and voted for the ticket. We’re beyond thrilled that Barack Obama is our president. I cried, a lot, often. Carter asked, “If you’re happy, why do you look so sad?” How do you describe tears of joy? The only realse that makes sense right now.
We tried to describe the importance, too, that Barack Obama is an African American. “What does that mean?” the boys wanted to know. “It means he’s black,” I said. “What is black?” Carter asked. We listed names of different people we know in our lives who are black. “Oh.” Carter said shrugging his shoulders, conveying he didn’t see this as important to note at all. I LOVED that moment. He is thinking of people he knows, as well, people he knows. They have different colors of skin, some speak different languages along with English, some have taught him about different foods, different prayers. But for Carter the’re his friends. We always tell the boys when we’re out in a crowd, “Just look! These are God’s people. And just some of God’s people! Wow! God sure loves lots of folks.” And we reiterate that when they’re angry with someone. “I know you’re mad, but God still loves them and you. Watch what you say.”
So we danced through this political milestone. We talked about race, racism, voting, the future. It is a fine dance, life is, voting, talking about all of this.
I’m thrilled about the future! This is the first time in my life I’m proud to be an American. I’ve been proud of America always, for what others did in the past, for the sacrifice of our soldiers today, for our history. But now I’m proud of what we collectively chose for our future. I’m proud I was a part of this. I woke up feeling like I would do anything my president asked of me. I saw the worth in my role in the fabric of this country. A mom, a chaplain. That is important. I am feeling it!
And I’m struck by the fact that I have a president. There has been ‘the president’ for too long, 8 years. Now there is ‘my president.’ I’m with it.
Ephesians 6:10-18
Grab your Bible and read this passage. The Apostle Paul talks about preparing ourselves (holy heirs thanks to Jesus) for the onslaught of daily life. He has us gearing up for warfare, plain and simple. How do we avoid temptation? How do we refrain from being sucked into gossip or anger? How do we defend ourselves from evil and evil people? Check it out: Stand firm with the belt of truch buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. Take up the sheild of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.
Think of the video games you’ve played recently or the comic books you’ve read. There are lots of both in our house. The Apostle Paul tells us to dress as our super heros do. We are to be armed with faith, invincible to the onslaught of enemy attacks. We need to be rooted in peace, but ready for action. Like our favorite superheros we have all this gear we’re equipped with, but unlike most of them everyone knows our identity. We are the holy heirs, children of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. Everyone can see our faces, they know where to find us. They may attack us, but we’re ready thanks to God.
We read this tonight with our kids for devotions. After reading the instructions about prayer I asked the boys if that meant I could only pray thank you prayers. “No!” Carter said. “You can pray mad prayers too.” Very true. I asked (and you should always ask kids big question and LISTEN to their answers, you’ll learn a lot), “What is the toughest type of prayer to pray.” Personally I was thinking about the mad prayers. Sometimes it is awkard for me to come before God angry when logically I understand that I should be thankful in spite of my petty dificulties that are making me mad. Maybe you don’t have this guilt issue – good for you! Anywho…I asked. Carter said, “The forgiving prayers. I think sometimes people don’t really want to forgive other people. Those are the hardest.”
Wow! And, Amen to that! Perhaps because righteous indignation feels so good we are hard pressed to leave it. But it is hard to forgive. And we don’t really forgive someone unless and until we’re praying about it. And sometimes we have to pray a forgiving prayer a lot before it actually helps us feel any better. Carter is right, we pray the forgiving prayer last because it is hardest.
Tonight pray for someone you need (not necessairly want) to forgive.
Changing my heart
My grandmother told me a story once of a woman in her adult Sunday School class who treated her poorly. My grandmother has been deaf since her 20s and apparently this woman treated her as unintelligent because of her disability. As you may find when you get to know others different from you, intelligence is rarely affected by abibilty or not. My grandmother was crushed, insulted, hurt, sad. But she went to Sunday School each week, worshiped with this woman. This lady continued being cruel, Grandma continued going along unhappy. And then she read a Gospel lesson one Sunday and had a change of heart. She decided to pray about this situation and she didn’t pray to make the woman change her tune. No, Grandma prayed that God would change her own heart toward this woman. She prayed that God would help her love her Christian sister! And you know what? God did.
Grandma did not continue being treated poorly. Instead she gained confidence in the fact that God was in the midst of this relationship and she perservered. The woman gained a new perspect of Grandma seeing her as brave, confident, funny, and intelligent. Once Grandma’s heart changed, everything changed.
I’ve prayed like my Grandma did many times in my life always for some sort of relationship with another. But now I’m praying this prayer over my whole life. See, I’m struggling to feel proud, happy, satisfied with my life. I’m an overeducated stay at home mom who longs for some sense of validation outside of my mother and husband. I feel called to working, but I can’t stand the idea of putting my kids in childcare full time. I just won’t do it. Thus I remain a stay at home mom who longs for something else. And that longing is draining any joy I have from my life because I’m not appreciating where I am or the time frame for remaining here.
I’m praying that God will change my heart toward my life. My life! I mean that is big, huge, everything. I want to be satisfied. I want to be happy. I want to be useful, vital, important. I know that I am to two little boys and I’m praying that God will change my heart so that I am satisfied, proud, happy with that.
Fostering: Dawn & Anna
Today I met Dawn. Her story is one of confession. Sometimes speaking the words makes them true, makes us stronger. So it is with Dawn. She is doing something impossibly difficult: she is giving her daughter over for adoption. She is speaking her truth into existence by sharing her story, marking its boundaries, finding where the pain is too great to tread. All in all, she is accepting the reality of her situation by sharing it.
Again, I was waiting with Anders for Carter to come from school. There was Dawn and her daughter, Anna. I foolishly assumed that relationship between the two; Dawn corrected me saying she was their foster daughter and that soon she would be going to a “great, Christian family” about 1 hour away. This family had considered adopting a girl from China with a cleft pallet; this was Anna’s life before her foster parent’s rescued her from an orphanage there.
Dawn’s blended family adopted one daughter from China and immediately filed paperwork to adopt another. They knew they’d have to wait because the process is painfully long. Wait they did: 3 years. But by the time they were allowed to travel to China to adopt another member of their family, the children in their blended family were having trouble. “Serious trouble” according to Dawn, the mother/stepmother. They knew, even before they left the States that they wouldn’t be able to keep the child they would meet. Their family couldn’t survive it. But they went anyway. They met Anna and they knew when they laid eyes on her that she couldn’t survive if they left her in China. She wouldn’t survive. They knew Anna would be tucked away in a back room for most of her life because of the disfiguring cleft. She would be a freak, frightening, unloved. These parents who knew they couldn’t keep her also knew they couldn’t deny her the chance to survive, thrive, live, and love. So they adopted Anna, a name Dawn always loved.
Anna came home with them within a month. She calls Dawn ‘mama.’ She had surgery to repair the cleft and is a happy, laughing, running, 3 year old. She is leaving the family, possibly next week and doesn’t even know it nor does her older sister, also from China. Dawn and her husband are devastated by the decision but know that in order to truly thrive she needs more than this family, struggling with stability, could give her. Dawn is proud of what they’ve done for Anna. “This way she has the whole world before her,” she spread her arms to illustrate her point. Dawn loves this girl enough to let her go. She kept telling me throughout her story, “This is not about me. It is all for Anna. She needs more than we can give her.”
Can you imagine?
We talked a bit about the word “relinquishment,” this formal term used to describe the ending of parental rights. It is sterile, harsh and cruel to everyone involved. Dawn isn’t relinquishing Anna. She and her husband are continuing her life in the best way possible, imaginable. The word doesn’t do justice to the gift their giving this child and another family. The word never does justice in any situation. Even using the word when a terrible parent who’s rights are stripped by courts for the sake and safety of their children is wrong. Because it has such a negative connotation and that will linger over the children.
No we need another word to descirbe this chance at a future for the families and children involved. But what word is it? The one that means the tranfer of a child from one family/parent to another?
Two Extraordinary Women
Today I met Clara. Well, she met me. As Anders & I waited in the cafeteria for Carter to come from his summer school class, I sat on the steps of the stage. Like many schools cafeteria’s serve many purposes and this one doubles as an auditorium. Minding my own business I noticed a wee girl running toward me, arms outstretched, huge grin on her face. I was obviously her long lost person!
I could see from afar that this child was different. She didn’t run as other children do, but she ran anyway. She didn’t look quite like most children, but she was beautiful. She couldn’t speak words, but she spoke volumes with her body and eyes.
This was Clara.
I opened my arms to recieve her because really with her personality there was no choice! She is magnetic! I was immediately in love with this child. We hugged. She climbed onto my lap and placed both hands over my face. Her mother quitely informed me Clara wanted to play peek-a-boo. We did and we both loved it.
I think Anders knew right away this Clara was different, but mostly he watched the way I interacted with her. When she and I laughed at the end of our game, Anders laughed too and reached out to touch her the way kids do, in order to be included.
Clara’s mom and I visited a bit. I learned that Clara loves to swim, is 4 years old, has two adoring grandma’s, and two brothers. I didn’t learn what her “situation” was because it just didn’t matter. I did wonder how many strangers Clara has tried to charm and how many of those, like me, let her. It was worth it! I hope I see her again tomorrow.
Then this afternoon I met another extraordinary woman, Joan. We visitied at the community pool while our children played in the wading pool. We talked about God, churches, and the fact that next month Joan is becoming a mother for a second time. She is adopting another child from the Ukraine, this time a girl. This time in the age range of 18 mos – 3 years. Can you imagine not even knowing what size clothing to buy?! Joan isn’t fazed, nothing matters but the child. She told me that for every year in an orphanage a child is 1 month behind developmentally. She told me that her son, also from the Ukraine, came to their family at 8 mos and had never been outside, never seen a man, never been out of his crib to be held. I praised God then and there for her and her husband. She immedeately invited me to visit her church. We talked, we laughed about our children and motherhood. I sat in awe of this mother who has a child in the Ukraine that she must wait 1 more month to meet and 2 more to bring home! Can you imagine that?
Thinking of you…
I remember each friend I made in my old city. I remember they were hard fought, invariably transplants to the area. I remember that even they were not always true, not faithful, not present. That goes for me too, I think the city elders were rubbing off on us.
Don’t get me wrong, we had a good 7 year run. But my husband said good-bye to only 1 friend. Me, just a handful. Sure we knew lots of people, but we never felt that many knew us or actually wanted to. And until we moved we thought there was something wrong with us. Now we know, there was something wrong with the people there.
Everyone here is friendly. They talk to you. They welcome you. They actually (gasp) make eye contact with you. They give you their phone number and they call you, too. They stop by. They stop and help. They mean what they say. It is a marvel.
We used to invite people to our home all the time. Just stop by! You’re always welcome! No one took us up on this offer. We felt sad. We’ve lived here for 2.5 weeks and people stop by to say hello. Neighbors near and distant. They stop and visit. They give of their time. They’re getting to know us and vise versa. These people exude a genuine warmth that the “born and raiseds” of our old city couldn’t muster. Maybe it is the cold weather here, it lasts for so long that the people make up for it by being friendly in the good weather because they can actually stop and talk and see people.
I’m learning to be a consisten friend. I’m present, I’m faithful, I’m true. People give that and want that. I’m ready for it.
Shit Happens
Here is the deal in life: shit happens. And I do NOT for one instant believe that God ordains it all. I belive that we are “in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves” – hence we need Jesus. The sin we suffer from is our own and the effects we feel from the sin of others.
I’m fired up about a comment in a journalism piece on the death of Tim Russert. I grew up on this guy, listened to his perspective, liked his interviewing style. I’m sad he’s dead and at only 58! This is tragic. During an NBC review of his life and work they did a piece of people saying wonderful things about Tim. They ended with a Cardinal of the Catholic Church who said life was a journey and we’re all going home (aka heaven). I’m down with that. Then he said ‘we never knew Tim would be headed home at only 58 but God wanted him [Tim] there.‘
Embedded in the claim of God plucking people from the earth at God’s timing is the claiming that all things good AND bad are of God’s ordination and will. What a frightening concept. Think how far people could carry this. In fact, not so long ago a dinner guest told me after his family had the flu that he couldn’t figure out why God would choose to do this to them. We’re talking about the flu! SHIT HAPPENS! Do you honestly think God plans when you’ll have the flu?!
Now death, strictly speaking, is not shit. It is tragic, sad. Even when people have suffered and we’re relived they suffer no more, or when someone has died peacefully at an old age: death is hard for the survivors. And when you extrapolate the idea of God timing our deaths on a grim reaper eternal To Do list then people can easily say, “Well I guess I don’t have to do anything in life because God has it all planned out. What does it matter?” This could be the reverse of “The Devil Made Me Do It.” It is a dangerous theological bent.
When people spout this crap (and they do, listen closely at any funeral for a child and you’ll hear some idiot say God needed another angel) they run the risk of someone believing them. And if God just killed your loved one, how are you supposed to be able to turn to God for comfort? When we’ve made God out be our divine enemy how can we find the comfort in God’s presence?
Here is the truth as I see it. Yes, God welcomes us home to heaven when we die. But God does not call us home from our lives like we’re late for a curfew. Rather, death happens. God is there in those times to soothe use with the Holy Spirit, to draw us closer to Him.
Don’t listen to those people who liken God to the grim reaper. Resist the temptation to lay that on God. Death is a part of life, even tragic death. But God is there with us in the midst of it all, abiding, comforting, soothing. Rocking us on Her lap, shushing us, pushing our hair our of our faces until we breathe deep and stop crying…at least for a while.
Focus on My Family
From the photo you may not be able to tell that we’ve been nuts. And stressed. Angry. Tired. At least that is how Paul and I have been lately. This move has us distracted from our kids and each other and, embarrassingly, God.
We planned to do this fun event with our kids: A Day Out with Thomas. The day before we went we agreed that we needed to get out of this house and spend time as a family, not distracted with projects but just having fun.
We did and it was! The day was marvelous regardless that we both knew we had tons to do when we got home. We didn’t care. We were in the present only. And we were present for one another. I realized how much I missed being a mom, which made me sad because I realized how little I’ve been doing since I’ve become so focused on the house.
Here is the thing about loving your neighbor as you love yourself. You have to actually love yourself. This means self forgiveness in my case. I could totally beat myself up over my house distraction, but instead I think I’ve learned from it and I’m moving on. If you don’t love yourself in these true and honest ways, frankly you’re a crappy neighbor. Take care of your self. Love yourself. You’re worth it.
How to tell when a Burning Bush is actually God
This is the question my son, Carter, posed the other day. We’d been at the grocery store where he and his brother rode around in a cart shaped like a fire engine, which is awkward & elephantine for the one pushing the cart. In the van he asked, “Mom, when do you know to call the firemen.”
As I’m want to do I launched into an answer without carefully considering it, “Well when you see something on fire like a…” (it is at this point my parenting gene kicked in and yelled: don’t scare him! Name something unlikely to burn!) I paused to pick a good item to throw on the imaginary flames and Carter chimed in, “Like a bush?”
“First you’d better see if it is God in that burning bush before you call the fire department,” I replied.
Scoffing, he said, “Mom! I’m not Moses!” It hadn’t crossed his mind that God could (and probably will in one way or another) appear to Carter himself. I told him that all things considered he should check first. And of course Carter then asked me the question of the ages, “How will I know if it is God in that bush?”
How do we know when God appears to us? Let’s start with something far less abstract. Where does God connect with us? Through the Word, the Bible. If you don’t have one: get one. It matters very little which translation you use, but you should be comfortable with it. I personally use both the NIV and NRSV translations. How do we talk with God? Through prayer and meditation (which is a fancy way of saying: listening once in a while). Paul says in Ephesians 6:18, “Pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.” So when you think you’ve been encountered by God in nature, through a sense of calling, in a dream ask God, “Is this really you?” when you pray. There is no harm in asking God to confirm an uncertain feeling you have; in fact it is a Biblical tradition. Look at Gideon! (Judes 6, esp verse 17)
Now as for Moses and the burning bush, let’s just consider what he encountered. “[At Horeb] the angel of the Lord appeared to [Moses] in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight – why the bush does not burn up.” Exodus 3:2-3
Moses moseys over to the bush engulfed in flames!?! What? Brave! Courageous! I often fear that I’d run for safety if God chose to appear to me in such a way! I take heart in the idea that self protection is a natural human reaction, but I fear that I’m not strong enough for God to bother appearing to. After all, I might take it the wrong way and run.
You see God appearing is not about the person God appears to. Moses is important yes, but God could have gotten Israel out of Egypt another way, regardless of the Cecil B DeMille interpretation God’s plan is not contingent on Moses alone. God appears in myriad ways to further God’s kingdom in this world. To empower the body of Christ as his hand and feet in the world: loving, working, worshiping. This is why God comes to us and calls. You don’t have to be Moses for God to appear to you. Get used to it because odds are God will come to you one way or another!
So is the burning bush, dream, vision, sense of call really from God? Well, are you inspired to find out or to run for your life? Is it a haunting (aka Holy Spirit) experience? Do you feel like the subject keeps returning to the fore of your mind? When you listen to God in prayer (standard communication mode), what do you hear?
And what is the result of your burning bush? Are you consumed? Is the call you’re feeling making you diminished in any way? Don’t confuse diminished with changing your life. When God calls you change. But God’s calling is overall nourishing spiritually to us. God wants nothing less for us than a full, burgeoning relationship with God. Ask yourself, Am Ion fire for God but not consumed?
How do you tell when a burning bush is actually God? Ask.
