Shoes

On any given Friday night, there is a pile of shoes in our entryway. My son's friends know the drill.  Friday nights are okay for hanging out at our house, Saturday nights are not and shoes come off when they enter the house.  For the entire time we have lived in Northville, I have observed these piles of shoes.  Sometimes they are just boys tennis shoes.  Often girls sandals and other casual shoes enter the pile. Sometimes the pile is large and sometimes it is small. 

Since my son is now a senior, I know that the piles of shoes will soon be a part of family history.  I wish I had photographed these artistic displays of teenage footwear.  Now I will just be able to get a few pictures between now and the end of the year.   I often pray for the owners of these shoes even though I may not know them all by name.  Being a young person in this uncertain world is no easy matter.  What kind of future are they walking into?  A future in which employment is not guaranteed, a future in which they may or may not have health care, a future in which funding for public education is deteriorating faster than the snow melts in spring... Despite all of this, they maintain a sense of humor and a sense of hopefulness. 

One pair of shoes is at our house much more than any of the other shoes that show up on a periodic basis.  The owner of these shoes has all but moved in with us because of a difficult relationship with both sets of divorced parents.  He is a good kid and works hard when he is here during chore time.  His future is very uncertain.  I worry about all of these kids even though I know worrying is not helpful for anyone, most especially the one who worries.  When I am able to turn the worry over to God, I am able to move on with my daily life.  In the end, that is all we can do.

Circle of Prayer

Last weekend we had our Diocesan Convention.  I enjoy going to convention for a variety of reasons: the picture it provides of the larger church, the Convention Eucharist, the many and varied displays and, of course, the people I get to see.  While I usually only talk to a few clergy acquaintances and the lay people with whom I have served on Diocesan Council, this year Convention was radically different for me.  I could not walk more than ten feet without someone stopping me to say: I've been praying for you for all of the past year."  People I knew stopped me and people I barely knew.  I even had one woman grab my name tag and say with great enthusiasm: "You're Dorian! Our congregation has been praying for you.  How are you doing?"

I've known for months that I have been on prayer lists all over the world, including the prayer list of a few churches in the Diocese. However knowing this and experiencing it are two different things.  I never thought for a moment that so many people would stop to let me know they've been praying for me. It  was a most wonderful surprise.

As I progress in my recovery from my breast cancer treatment, it is comforting to know that my need for healing has been lifted up by so many earthly angels.  As so many have said: never doubt the power of prayer.

Ministry to the Dying

One of the most meaningful aspects of my ministry is that of being with the dying and being with the family after a loved one has died.  Whether it is an expected death with hospice involved or whether it is a tragic death for which no one was prepared, it is an aspect of ministry to which I feel especially drawn.  Over the years, I have reflected on why I find this kind of ministry so compelling and I have come to the conclusion that it is because when death happens people are at their most authentic. The masks that often accompany ordinary life vanish and the depths of who people are rise to the surface.  People are much more open and vulnerable at these times, making it very easy to connect.

When hospice is involved, there is often a beauty in the whole process.  One family in my former church had an especially peaceful experience.  When it became clear that the mother of the family was dying,  the adult children gathered for a vigil.  When I went to be with them toward the end, they were all sitting in their mother's apartment reading.  They then explained that they had often done this as a family when they were children.  It was a family custom to have everyone sit together in the living room and read. While their mother, who was a librarian, lay on her death bed, her family took turns reading to her while the others read to themselves.  There was a quiet serenity and peace throughout the room.  This went on until their mother took her last breath.

Most hospice deaths do have a quiet peacefulness about them which is why I try as much as possible to encourage hospice when it seems appropriate.  When all is said and done, death at any age is a reminder of the fragility of human existence, a reminder that our "earthly tent", of which St. Paul writes, could give out on us or be taken from us at any time.  All the more reason to live life to its fullest... God gives us that opportunity each and every day.

Seeing God in the mountain

My husband and I are blessed to be visiting family and friends in our former home near Seattle.  Also being blessed with absolutely perfect weather, we spent yesterday at Mt. Rainier.  Every bit of the drive is magnificent as the mountain will suddenly appear as you turn around a corner and then disappear because of the trees and then reappear once again.   It was as if the mountain was teasing us with these intermittent views until we reached the top of the drive at Sunrise, the highest point in the national park one can drive.  And then she was there in all her glory seeming to be so close that we could have wrapped our arms around her if our arms had just been a bit longer.  Let the rivers clap their hands, and let the mountains ring out with joy before the Lord (Psalm 98:9)  Mt. Rainier and many other places in the Pacific Northwest are  healing places for me partly because the powerful beauty overshadows any human pain that I might experience. Send out your light and your truth that they may lead me and bring me to your holy mountain (Psalm 43:3)

Joseph and I walked on one of trails at Sunrise where each turn gave us a different view, giving over our grief of the past year: grief from our respective illnesses and for me, most recently, the grief of a failed relationship with someone to whom I was very close. I pour out my complaint before God and tell God all my trouble (Psalm 142:2) The mountain is a sign of God's presence and reminded me of how great God is.  If God can create something so vast and compelling, God can certainly remove and heal all of our wounds.  Proclaim the greatness of the Lord our God and worship him upon his holy hill; for the Lord our God is the Holy One. (Psalm 99:9) As we walked, Joseph and I would simply stop and stare and join in silent prayer.  What a gift!

Vegetables and the News

There are no less than three articles on today's New York Times web-site regarding vegetables.  One was about the first lady and her continued campaign to get kids to eat better food; another was about the American propensity to choose fries over vegetables, and the final one was about Dr. Preston Maring, a California surgeon who, now in his retirement, has opened a Farmer's Market.  His crusade is to make "the kitchen as crucial as the clinic". 

As I move into the next phase of my cancer battle, I am working even more on my diet than I have in the past.  Incorporating vegetables three times a day is a challenge so I am now throwing spinach into my daily smoothies.  Then if I don't have time to anything especially creative, I am just steaming vegetables and dipping them in one of the many fabulous sauces and dips that are now available.  This makes it less difficult than one might think. 

As Americans, we do seem to have a mixed relationship with vegetables.  One man in the article about fries vs. vegetables said: "I'm not afraid of zucchinis; I just don't know how to cook them".  I suppose if we don't know how to cook zucchinis we can always use them to fend off bears which is what a woman in Helena, MT did this week when a bear wandered into her garden.  She hit it with a giant zucchini!

When all is said and done, God calls us to take care of "this earthly tent" as St. Paul calls our bodies.  Stewardship of the body may be the most important form of stewardship out there.

Relationships Rich in Possibility

Many people go through the day without experiencing authentic relationships.  When people participate in small groups they often find that wealth of possibility.  Sometimes the ability for authentic relationships comes in surprising places. Such was the case when I took my daughter to a class called Kids Kicking Cancer. The class is a martial arts class for kids who have/had cancer and for kids whose lives have been touched by cancer. I thought I would just show up, watch the class and go home.  Boy, was I wrong.    Suddenly in the midst of this place of calm and hope (The Michigan Wellness Center) I was draw into the fabric of lives touched by cancer.

I did watch the class for a while but when a young girl age 6 started singing the song she sings to her port, I just melted away. For the fortunately uninitiated, the port is where chemo patients receive their drugs.  Apparently the custom is for kids to give their ports a name and then talk about giving Pete or Eddie (the port) a drink (the chemo).  Well this little girl went a step beyond and made up a song.  Still being quite emotional from my own treatment, I left the kids area and went to talk to the parents.  Here we were, a group of moms who have never met suddenly sharing at a level many people never achieve in a lifetime.  It was beautiful.

I'm not sure why my daughter likes this class so much.  She is older than the other kids and she is the one kid in the class who has never had cancer but she loves it.  For that I am thankful.

Spiritual Calm

For many years, I have wanted to attend the Jewish high holy day services.  I have often been stopped by the difficulty of getting tickets, my own schedule etc. and the years went by.  This year it finally happened.  Last night my husband and I attended a Yom Kippur service with my sister and her husband.  The day was especially meaningful because yesterday was the 20th anniversary of our father's death. How powerful to sit next to my sister and hear our father's name read in the list of those who were being remembered, a part of the ritual that is very similar to the remembrance of the dead which we do on All Saints Day. 

Yom Kippur is a beautiful service. It is largely a day of atonement with many prayers of confession but there are many other parts as well. The nearly two hours flew by!   The music was wonderful and the prayers rich in poetry and meaning.  I was especially soothed by the Hebrew.  It is a beautiful language to listen to even if you don't understand it.  When I was in seminary, I studied Hebrew for two years.  Most of the language is lost to me now but I still understand the occasional word and suspect that if I put some time into it my understanding might return. When will I ever have time for that!?

Another part of the liturgy included prayers for healing.  As someone who has just, as of September 8, finished an eight month regime of treatment for breast cancer, I could personally appreciate the prayers.  At one point the rabbi talked about how we never think illness will cross our paths, that it will always be someone else.  That certainly fits me!

The service last night helped me acknowledge that I am now moving into the rest of 2010 as a cancer free person.  Given that my illness has dominated all of 2010 up to this point, I am still trying to adjust to what it means to be cancer free and treatment free. The months and months of driving to the hospital, the months and months of pain, fatigue, emotional ups and downs have now been reduced to one pill a day. What does it all mean?

Reconciliation

For those who know me well, they know that reconciliation is a common theme of my life and ministry.  Perhaps it is because I know only too well that if I had a penny for all the careless or hurtful comments I have made over the years, I would be a rich woman indeed! 

When I consider the idea of reconciliation, I am reminded of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission which brought together persecuted black South Africans with their caucasian persecutors. I also think of one of the most powerful books I have read on this subject, Left to Tell by Immaculee Ilibagiza, who wrote about her experience of the genocide in Rwanda.

For most of us, the issue of forgiveness is much less global.  Perhaps we are dealing with old family wounds or even simply what someone said to us this morning.  It is easy to get lost in the swirl of anger, hurt and resentment. The problem is that staying lost in that swirl often ruins a perfectly good day or even a life rich with possibilities. Letting go of hurts and offenses blesses us with freedom of the heart. It really is not about letting "the other", whoever that may be, off the hook. It is about not giving power to those have hurt us and that often includes those who have moved on from this world! Oh, the power of the dead!

When there is genuine reconciliation between two people, it makes space for a much deeper relationship.   If all of us could remember Jesus' words on the cross "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do" in times of hurt, we might be able to move out of those dark places with grace and ease.  Always easier to write about than to do but it is still a topic worthy of the pen!

Welcome to my new blog

Welcome to Dorian's Discourse. This is a continuation of my previous blog on Care Pages.  I began writing when I was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer in January of 2010.  Now that I have completed my cancer treatments, I have ended my Care Pages blog and moved to this site. Thank you to those who have followed me from Care Pages and a warm welcome to those who are new readers.  Most of all I want to thank those who have encouraged me to continue writing.  This new blog is because of you!