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.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, October 1, 2010
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!
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!
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