Alice Ann Jensen Walker - Mom -

 My mom passed away Tuesday evening, surrounded by her girls. 

The link to her obituary is: https://www.utahvalleyfuneral.com/obituaries/Alice-Walker-10/#!/TributeWall. 

Keeping Vigil -

 My mom has been in a care center for a year. Her dementia, and corresponding physical ailments, left her too difficult to care for at home. We found the most beautiful Beehive Home, and this is where she's lived until Friday evening. 

She's been declining significantly since November - from walker to wheelchair to a reclining padded wheelchair, to nearly full-time in a hospital bed. And in that time she's declined in her ability to walk, move her own body, feed herself, and for the most part, communicate with anything more than a nod or shake of her head. She's also been sleeping about 20 hours a day. 

After visiting her on Thursday afternoon, and trying to get her to eat cottage cheese and mandarin oranges, one of her most favorite meals, and her pocketing the food in her cheek rather than swallow, cleaning this out of her mouth and trying to get her to drink through a straw, I was at a loss. 

And yet - in the hospital we would consider her going on comfort measures, or only giving her liquid when she was offered and agreed. 

So, within just a half an hour, all seven children had agreed that comfort measures was what was needed, with swabbing her mouth with her liquid of choice - milk, grape juice, water, when she accepted the offer. 

I went home, thought about Mom dying in the care center, and I was having a tough time wrapping my head around this. At 5am Friday morning I heard, distinctly, Bring Her Home. One thing I've learned in my long life, is to listen when I receive any kind of prompting. 

I sent all of my siblings a text; we had agreed by 7am; my sister and I called the amazingly compassionate and kind Beehive Home director, called hospice, and we had things rolling for her to get home on Friday, by 9am! 

Mom was tucked into bed in my library (oh she loved books) by 7pm Friday evening. My sisters began arriving on Saturday morning, with my brother shortly after. Saturday and Sunday my home was filled with children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, with those siblings and others who could not be here in person Facetiming or calling to give her their love and say good-bye. 

My home has been over-flowing with loving energy - positive energy, and we have all felt angels around her. As we've sat and talked, ate, caught up, thought about tomorrows, I've definitely relished this liminal time with everyone. We've been through so much with Mom these past 6 years, and prior to that, with Dad the previous 3 years. And we've been united, and our conversations have mostly been about caring for them. However these last few days have also been about catching up on each other's lives, sharing our own stories. 

And it has been a delight - while Keeping Vigil, we've also been moving forward. 

Ironically, Mom is still here; she's not communicating, not taking in any food or liquid. My house is filled with women today, and we laughed this morning that Mom has never taken any physical risks and and has always kept her body healthy. Her heart and lungs are holding on, yet her soul is ready to move on. 

Dad died 6 years ago this July 5. Keeping Vigil. 

Prayers - Kate Bowler -

 So many times I have prayed for someone. And as a chaplain I often ask my patients, "Can I keep you in my prayer?" Often I'm asked to give a prayer for a patient, and I ask, "What would you like me to pray for," before praying. 

I love prayer. It's about as close to heaven as I may ever get. During cancer treatments I had so many people praying for me, meditating for me, sending positive thoughts and energy my way. And I felt those thoughts, those blessings. They buoyed me up, held me when I could not stand alone. Amazing to be the recipient of someone's prayer, when giving is my mode of operation, not receiving. 

Twice yesterday I felt the Spirit, when talking about prayer with patients. Once with a family whose father is dying - and they said there were hundreds of people praying for them, and they felt those prayers, and they believed there were people on both sides (earth and heaven) praying for them and supporting them. The second was with a young man who probably won't see 50. And he's rather agnostic and skeptical, yet we've connected, and we've talked angst and existential crisis and doubt and wanting to know. I asked him if I could keep him in my prayers. He did a "what good is it going to do" cough, and then said, "Yes. You know, my father is praying for me. And he always asks me what I want him to pray for. I know it makes him feel like he's doing something, because, really, what else can he do? And, I've felt his prayers, kinda like a warm blanket, kinda like a ray of sunshine. So, yes, you can pray for me." 

I prayed for these folks last night, along with my family, my mom, friends who are hurting. And yet - I don't pray for myself. I  pray that I have can be of service, that I can be aware of others' needs. But I don't pray for me, for comfort for myself, for strength for me, for clarity of mind for me, for hugs and holds and rays of sunshine for me. And maybe I should. 

This morning's prayer from Kate Bowler, is the prayer I needed today. A prayer/blessing for me, because of me, because I'm this person she is praying for. Thank you, Kate. 

a blessing for when you’re running on fumes and the summer is starting (unless, of course you’re fine. and if so, call me.)     Sometimes I am paper thinning at every touch.  Responsibilities and duties and errands are wearing me down. There is not enough time or energy  or finances or imagination.  I hardly recognize myself. I can’t keep going, but I can’t rest.  God, can You help me slow down?  I just need a little shelter and a long breath. I need a real summer.  Give me space to curl up for a while. Hold me until I can feel my shoulders drop,  and I am freed from what can’t happen right now.  Let me think only about what is gentle and lovely,  what is bountiful and unencumbered on this on this too-heavy day. God, scoop me up into life as it is.  Stop me from running ahead,  so I can be here in this space for the moment.   May this summer be a chance  to return to myself, once again.  Amen.