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.

Ripple Effect -

Too much death. Too much sorrow. Too much violence. Too much react rather than act. Too many grieving parents, siblings, teachers, friends (young and old), and today, a spouse who loved too much and alone was too much. 

In healthcare we too are affected - too often, too much. So sad, so unnecessary, such a load for the innocent to carry, and for innocence to be lost. 

Blame - occasionally, and yet . . . 

Husband of slain teacher. 

Honoring Uvalde.

Springville students. 

Lily. 

Masao. 

No one dies alone - no one grieves alone; we are so interconnected through genetics, logistics, demographics, journeys, communities, cultures. Can't help but be affected. 

On Mother's Day -

This is my mom, Alice. She was also my neighbor for 15 years, my confidante, and she's the first person I shared my first tattoo with (breast cancer radiation points). This picture was taken in February at the care facility she is living at; she has dementia, and although all of her children have cared for her for the past 6 years, she needed more help than we could provide.

This mom, who was all business and little play, service before self, communicate with food, companionship, and listening intently, seldom giving advice, now seldom speaks. These days, she spends her time either sleeping on the couch in front of a movie, sleeping in her bedroom, or waking long enough to know, and gratefully recognize, her visitors.

Mom was a firm believer in acceptance, simplicity, talk-it-out, make it work, and there was an open invitation to anyone, anyone, to join her in the kitchen.

Mom wasn't a hugger or physically demonstrative, and I do not remember her ever saying "I love you," rather, a phone call or visit ended with "Love you." But these past 2 years, she has reached out to hold a hand, give a gentle pat on the back, and is more than willing to have someone hold her.

Mom was always good for a half a dozen hot cookies, a plate of cinnamon rolls, and she was more than willing to share her garden produce or help someone "bottle" the peaches from her amazing peach tree.

Mom's been a phone call or knock on the door away, and I miss her as my neighbor; yet watching her diminish in her abilities, and be baffled by her own inabilities and confusion has been so disheartening.

Mom loved her phone, and her phone calls to and from family took precedence over everything else - including a warm meal! And these days, she doesn't answer her phone, can't send a text, can't leave a voice message to "call me as soon as you can." Yet the texts and voice messages keep going to her, and it's a pleasure to watch her light up as she hears a familiar voice, sees pictures we send her, and nods as we read her the messages she receives.

She's diminished in size and capacity, yet her example, her words, are constantly with me; including, "When are you coming over again? It's been so long since I've seen you."

Happy Mother's day to my mom, to her lessons, to her frailty, to her willingness to serve, and in turn, now, her willingness to be served.

Deconstructing Faith -

 This is a great article, in some ways redundant, yet it does bring to light a few points that needed to be objectively looked at. 

It brings to light five reasons faith is being deconstructed by so many people, particularly the "young." 

1. Trust in large institutions is declining. 

2. We live in a more diverse and mobile world. 

3. High-performing Christians are simply burning out. 

4. Conformity over unity. 

5. Political Idolatry and Conspiracy Theories. 

Perhaps the most important element of this article was this: 

Deconstruction without reconstruction is a tragedy. 

I often tell my clients, if you take something away (thought, action, item), you must intentionally replace it with something, otherwise, that space will quickly fill up with unintentional thoughts, actions, items. 

"If the path you're on isn't making you a more generous, compassionate, ho9peful, and merciful person, then the destination isn't worth the journey." 

Psalm 23 Verse 6

I was invited to speak at this morning's Utah Valley Interfaith Easter Sunrise Service at the Provo Community Church. Steven Kapp Perry was the Host; with Wayne Parker of Provo City and Topher Melhoff from Orem Community CofChrist also speaking. Brittney Stradling sang, along with the stunning Utah Valley Interfaith Choir, conducted by David Lewis.  

Psalm 23, specifically verse 6: "Surely, goodness and mercy shall follows me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever," was my topic. 

Several years ago I opened a Church magazine, to find this photo on the inside, front page. It spoke to me, and I have saved this page since it was published in April 2015. When I was given this verse to focus on, the first thought that came to my mind was this image. It guided my writing, and honestly, has guided my search for the Good Shepherd. 

                                                        

I so wanted to share this image along with my words. However, all I could find was this was a photo taken by Jim Jeffery in 2010. After quite the internet search, I was left without much more detail. 

David, a shepherd boy and later, the Shepherd King of Israel, in Psalm 23, declared, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” With the last verse of this Psalm proclaiming, “Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

 “Surely” – in full confidence, David affirms that the Good Shepherd’s goodness is always available.  “Goodness and mercy” – Goodness provides; mercy forgives or pardons. Goodness helps; mercy takes us the rest of the way to healing. And with David fully invested in shepherding – as well as being a sheep, he had full confidence in his shepherd. David knew that Goodness – or God, or Shepherd, or the hands of kindness and mercy, never faileth.

 For most of us, some of our days will be filled with grief, uncertainty, loss; yet God’s goodness will chase after us – a goodness that never faileth. 

 There is so much goodness in the world – so many many good kind people who work silently, without need for glory or even a thank you, who, regardless of pay or business; they are the good shepherds chasing after each of us.

 Christian author, Max Lucado, wrote, ““Goodness and mercy. Not goodness alone, for we are sinners in need of mercy. Not mercy alone, for we are fragile, in need of goodness. We need them both.”

 As a Palliative Care Chaplain, working at Utah Valley Hospital, I have seen Goodness, or Godness, repeatedly these past two years. Irish poet and philosopher, John O’Donohue, in his blessing, “For a Nurse,” wrote: "In this fragile frontier-place, your kindness becomes the light that consoles the broken-hearted..." I would like to share a few bits of light, these kindnesses, this Good Shepherd Goodness:

          An ICU CoVid physician worked tirelessly to save a man, a father of 4, a stalwart in his community. His children, angry that he would not wake up, criticized the doctor – publicly, and complained about her to her colleagues. And yet, every single day she walked into his room, paused at his bedside, gently took his vitals, reviewed his notes, and more than once, with tears in her eyes, walked out of his room, gently shaking her head. And then she moved on to the next room, with the same love and respect.

           Another ICU CoVid team – caring for a husband and wife, both with CoVid; and their daughters watching, and waiting. Their father died, and within weeks, so did their mother, and a husband, and a father-in-law. After day in and day out care, aware of failing health, caregivers gently washed worn bodies, hugged exhausted daughters, and at each death, grieved.

           A young father of 3, hospitalized for more than 2 months, intubated, in a medically induced coma, is slowly awaken and then gently extubated and weaned off oxygen. And caregivers, with mile-wide smiles, applauded as this man, still with a long road ahead, was wheeled out of the hospital into the waiting arms of his wife and children.  

 Doing things from Goodness, not for Goodness.

           A respiratory therapist, who cares for patients intubated and trach’d, many who are not alert, all unable to speak, chats with them as if they’re neighbors, speaks to them of everyday things, acknowledging lives outside of the hospital.

           An aid bathing a patient in a coma, chats away in Spanish to this young woman from Mexico, who did not speak English.

           A caregiver sang hymns with an elderly woman, sick with CoVid and clouded with dementia.

           A chaplain, who asks, “What brings you joy?” to a man who longed for one more normal day. “Time with family,” was his reply. And that chaplain gently lead family in, one by one, to say good-bye to man who was the rock in their lives.

 The Shepherd is with His sheep in times of sunshine and rain, he shares his goodness ALL the days of our lives.

           An infectious disease nurse shared that his friends and fellow caregivers were his Goodness. Their simple acts – bottles of water, cups of coffee, short walks, were the encouragement he needed to make it through dark days when the line of patients needing treatment never shortened.

           A daughter of an elderly man who had recently passed away distributed bright orange roses to the hospital staff on his floor, thanking them for being a bit of sunshine in his life.

           “I was saved by the beauty of the world,” said Poet, Mary Oliver.  

          Two caregivers and a hospital gift shop manager arranged an anniversary gift for a husband to give his wife, whose days were numbered, paid for by the volunteers in the gift shop.

           A provider, after hearing that a patient she had served over his multiple hospitalizations had passed, left the hospital, looking for a private place to grieve. And a physician, seeing this, wrapped his arms around her.

 Believers – The Shepherd’s crook is there for us to grab onto, and we are rescued. 

        A former patient shared,  “Out of a dozen caregivers, they were all kind, patient, kept me alive, and though I don’t remember much, I always felt safe, and my family watched and trusted and learned to love my caregivers as they cared for me.”

           A flower, left anonymously at the front door of this chaplain’s home, saying, “Well done.”

           A young friend, after being on and off bed-rest for nearly two years, honored her primary caregiver, “My mom! She has been the biggest blessing in my life. She bought me food I could eat, drove me to doctor’s appts, held my hand while blood was drawn, carried me down the stairs when I was too weak to walk, and laid down next to me and held me while I cried, letting me know she was by my side. She has been my goodness, my love, my shepherd.”      

          We are the sheep, and we are the tender shepherds. And today, we can take those lessons learned from these experiences and do our best to be the Shepherds He would want us to be. We can be His rod and His staff.

          We all have days of dark, days of despair, days of sorrow and weariness and loneliness and loss. As I have listened to, and first-hand observed, the generosity of others, I am confident that the Good Shepherd’s presence in our lives is made manifest by kind gestures, tender actions, calm presence. If Goodness never faileth, then we, as imperfect and complicated people, are that good. We should be kind; and practice being kinder. Without motivation. Surely, goodness and mercy WILL follow us, as we are His hands, eyes, voice. There is hope, Goodness never faileth, all the days of our lives; He is our Sunrise.

 Amen.

After I finished the choir sang: 

                                                    Song begins at 2:00.