February 20, 2015
by Jodi Kirk
BIBLE VERSE:
Jeremiah 2:6
,
"They did not say, 'Where is the LORD Who brought us up out
of the land of Egypt, Who led us through the wilderness, Through a land of
deserts and of pits, Through a land of drought and of deep darkness, Through a
land that no one crossed And where no man dwelt?'
PRAYER:
Dear Lord, sometimes it is impossible to see the forest through
the trees. We get lost in the wilderness...so busy trying to gain our bearing
that we lose our center. Open our hearts
so that we feel and know your presence even when…especially when…the landscape
is rocky and jagged and our course is difficult and exhausting. Thank you for
being with us during times of deep darkness and offering the gift of your
expansive and ever present love to carry us through to the other side.
REFLECTION:
I wrote the following reflection when my sister was in hospice
care three years ago. I felt helpless
and lost. I prayed for solace and understanding:
I open the door
quietly…
The
room is dark.
The
humming of the oxygen seems louder than it should.
You
are sleeping.
Your chests rises and falls.
I
say a quick prayer of thanks.
I
look at your face –
I see mom.
I
try to be still.
I
don’t want to disturb your restless sleep.
I
whisper,
“ I am here Ter. It’s okay, you are
not alone…”
Of
course, that is not true.
You
are not okay…and…we are not alone.
Death
surrounds us.
She
is so very present…
You can feel her…
smell her…
She is suffocating.
Pernicious.
Pervasive.
Cruel.
We
don’t talk about her anymore.
She is in ear shot,
She is too close at
hand.
I
watch as you struggle to take in a full breath.
I
watch as your heart seemingly leaps from your chest.
I
listen to your whimpers and moans..
I am paralyzed.
Your
breath is uneven and ragged.
Your body is swollen.
Your sparkling brown
eyes are closed – sunken shadows.
Your radiant
smile is absent -
replaced by an
unconscious grimace.
I
try to stay quiet, but I am screaming inside:
“NO!”
I
try to be present.
I take a breath.
I close my eyes.
I feel another tear fall down my
cheek.
“How
can I make this better?”
I
am struggling…
Struggling to find the right words.
Struggling to know what
to do…
Searching,
Searching for something – ANYTHING –
to make death…better.
To make you …better.
To make your
death… your dying…better.
I
want to – I need to – redirect this final scene.
I long to whisk you away to a villa in
Tuscany …
or an enchanted cottage in Southern France.
I want to fill the room with sunflowers…
I want to bathe you in perfumed oil, lotion
your back, rub your swollen feet, hold your hand and sing you to sleep.
I want to recite Shakespeare and read aloud
our favorite poems.
I long to lavish you in the simplest of
pleasures…
Crisp
linen sheets.
The
softest blankets.
Funky
new PJs.
Fresh
bouquets.
Hot
tea.
And delicious scones with Devonshire cream
like the ones we had in Stratford.
I want to create a sanctuary – a sacred
resting place.
Peaceful.
Grace filled.
Love soaked.
Mostly,
I want to make meaning out of this experience.
I
thought I knew death.
I
thought I had experienced loss.
I
thought I understood medical realities…
Human fraility.
Mortality.
But
this is different.
This is more real.
This is my sister.
My Terri.
This
is you.
I
see you suffer.
I
see your body begin to shut down.
I
see your frustration at the limits that now shape your world.
I
see you resist the help of strangers and the assistance of those that love you
best.
I
see you battle with a public mask and a private agony.
I
see you struggle with what you believe, and what you are experiencing….
Darkness overcoming the light.
I
want our love to pierce through that darkness and offer a sense of real
comfort, peace and, perhaps, moments of joy.
Those
are my wants…
My desires…
My hopes…
I
let them go.
This
is your journey.
I
am learning…
To be quiet.
To be still.
To pray deeper.
You
are still my teacher Terri Jean.
Even
though I am not finding solace in faith and what seems to be a faulty premise…
When
I look beyond the darkness of what I am feeling now…
Of what you are experiencing now…
somewhere in the deep
recesses of my memory…
I remember that death
is not the end. We are not alone.
Part
of my heart will die with your passing, but somehow my spirit will continue to
grow…it has to…for I will carry you with me.
Death
may not be as simple or beautiful or even as mysterious as we hoped and
imagined, but your life, your love and your amazing legacy will continue to
shine in all sorts of beautiful and mysterious, simple and profound, and
unexpected ways. God will make it so.
I
love you Terri Jean!
BLESSING:
May
the light of God’s love shine on all who are wondering through the wilderness,
May the power, mystery and wonder of God’s grace offer solace for all who feel
consumed by darkness and are seeking to make meaning of burdens that feel
impossible to bear. You are not alone.
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