I had a colleague ask if I would care for someone while he was away. They're former members of the church (and I've met more in the process of visiting) and she is dying.
It called back to the days of chaplaincy when I walked into the room, dressed in civies since it was my night to have dinner with my family. She had reached the stage where it was a choice between comfort and consciousness, the pain had grown so severe.
There is something humbling about being asked to enter into someone else's moment of greatest pain. Even the words of scripture seem less profound in the face of the love so evident in a grieving spouse's face and voice. We commended her to the Lord and shared that moment, knowing that the promises of Baptism are the rock to which we cling, but that they do not make the storm go away. I remembered something Jan Ramsey said in Pastoral Care class, about how it is the loss of stories that brings its own special kind of grief. Now the stories of their life together were at an end and new stories would have to be dreamed and lived.
I think now about what a privelege it is to be allowed into these moments. Even more than Baptism, which is trust given movement; to be present at grief, to be given the opportunity to carry the love of God into that moment and simply allow it to be, honoring the moment while reminding all present of the promise, always the promise.
Lord of life, when you told Philip and Andrew that the hour had come, did they understand? Do we understand the extravagance of the love given us that day, that hour? Keep us in that love, that frame around our lives, not to keep things out or to keep things in but rather to keep things in perspective since it is at the edges of what we are that we need you most. In our centers, our comfortable spots we find mostly ourselves and too often we are satisfied with that, but at our edges, where we become frazzled and begin to unravel we feel the fear of our smallness, our death and so your hand rests lightly on those edges, reminding us that there is more story to tell. Grant that we may all feel in our lives the love that leans in and kisses the forehead of the beloved, tears flowing unashamedly as our hearts turn toward you.
new service, interesting, will have to check out this one, see if I like it better.
your post about entering in to a situation, fresh from the dinner table really hits home and gets me to thinking. you know, that is one of the blessings of ministry, and also for me a challenge. because it can become so routine, part of my “thing” that I do. yet they have to be part of my “thing” otherwise i would collapse into a emotional mess if i couldn’t step back from the situation and be in the office.
so how do you not get to “office” oriented and forget your personhood? i have known pastors who as a result of so many of these experiences become so emotionally detached from these sorts of things that they cannot even experience it when it happens in their family. they are always playing the role of pastor.
hope your preparations for holy week are going well.