Dying Well - It's In God's Hands: A Tribute to Manley Burchett

As Mitch Albom writes in The Five People You’ll Meet in Heaven, “part of the secret of heaven is that each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.”  

Last weekend, I had an awesome opportunity to celebrate the life of a godly man, husband, and teacher, Manley Burchett.  He has been a patient of mine off and on over the last several months and he left this world for another on May 11, 2016.  He was 82-years-old.  His wife, Carol, has given me permission to share him and his never-ending teaching spirit with you.  

I wasn’t surprised when Carol told me that Manley liked Psalm 23.  He lived it to the very end.  When we talked about how his story might end over several hospitalizations, he would hold both palms up and serenely say, “It’s in God’s hands.” 

Can you walk through the valley of the shadow of death while sitting in a recliner, hooked up to an oxygen tank?  Undoubtedly, Yes.  I saw Manley do it and I saw Carol sitting by his side.  He had no fear.  None.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil;

For thou art with me;

I came across a story which I cannot verify, but it said that Jack Nicklaus was beaten one time by a blind golfer.  It cost him $5,000.  He said as he wrote out the check, “I met a person who refuses to let fear control his life.”  If Manley were blind, I would have wondered if he was the nameless man in that story.  In fact, just the week prior to his death, he told me, “Fear and faith are diametrically opposed.  They cannot exist at the same time.”  I was certain that was never more true than in his hospital room.  

When there still seemed to be choices on the table for treatment, Manley held them with an open hand.  Not with a clinched fist like you might expect.  He considered pursuing surgery, even with severe side effects like not being able to eat or speak again, just for another shot on the green or a cast in his favorite fishing spot. 

For a man who, in his own words, had “a lot of living left to do”, you would have expected to sense a little desperation at the possibility of time running out.  It would only be natural…But, try as you might, you couldn’t find that desperation.  A few more moments or years to live seemed to be all the same to him, and his wife shared this "holy indifference". 

They were completely abandoned to the will of God.  Abandoned, as in yielding (oneself) without restraint.  And it was this abandonment that was Manley’s final gift to me.  

In Our Greatest Gift – A Meditation on Dying and Caring, Henry Nouwen discusses watching his sister-in-law, Marina, die from cancer.  He writes, “As I have seen Marina prepare herself for death, I have gradually realized that she is making her own dying a gift for others – not only for my brother, not only for her family and friends, but also for the nurses and doctors and the many circles of people with whom she has spoken and shared…Having taught all her life, she now teaches through her preparation for death.  It strikes me that her successes and accomplishments will probably soon be forgotten, but the fruits of her dying may well last a long time…She has shown me, in a whole new way, what it means to die for others.  It means to become the parent of future generations.”  

It is in this way that Manley has become a parent to me and I imagine, to as many people as have met him.  I didn’t know Manley as well as I would have liked, but maybe I know enough.  If it is true that we die like we live, then he lived very well, indeed.  He showed me what faith in action looks like.  It looks like abandonment to Divine Providence, even and especially when it is life and death.  It looks like Manley in his recliner with his palms turned skyward, saying all the while, “It’s in God’s hands.” 

An Unraveled Hem - A Tribute to Mothers Who Have Been Left Behind For Now

Mother's Day.  My children are all alive and live under my roof.  I talk to my mom every Wednesday on the phone, have a stepmom who loves me like her own, and live two doors down from my mother-in-law, whom I adore.  I don't think I've ever been more grateful for these richly layered blessings, and on this Mother's Day, in particular. 

Over the past year and a half, working as a hospital chaplain, I've had a most privileged view of motherhood.   There has been more good than bad, but the good is expected and the bad is really bad.  Really bad, in that it is really hard to make sense of and impossible to forget.  In the world, there are probably more children losing mothers to old age than mothers losing children of all ages, but not in my world.

Only a mother knows that an 11-week old fetus can be born with hands that look like they're folded in prayer, and that this same child who lived secretly within her will largely remain a secret.  Others carry their children into labor along with their dreams for them, only to never hear them cry.  Even once.

Some have their children long enough to see them grow into successful college students, marry, or become parents of young children and then...they're gone.  How can God take them now?  Just when...

As proposed by a meditation whose source I can't recall, I agree that whenever possible "What now?" is a much more fruitful question than "Why?!".  Stack all of the good things that can come from the death of a child (or anyone we love) as high as the stars, and it will likely still be too short to satisfy our why.  So, what now? 

Children are always on the brink of starting something new.  Elementary school, middle school, high school, military service, college, being married, having babies, a new career, retirement, grandchildren...

Every day is a "just when" day when you're a mother.  That's who we are.  We anticipate the good things that lie ahead for our children, as we should.

These women who have lost children, young and old, come home with me.  They show up in my tears when I tuck my children in at night and stand invisibly near our table during mealtime prayer.  Psychological jargon will tell you this has a name.  Transference.  Wikipedia defines it as "a phenomenon characterized by unconscious redirection of feelings from one person to another."

Yes.  Maybe.  Maybe it is unconscious in the beginning, but not for long.  I carry these mothers with me consciously and intentionally.  They are my heroes.  They make me a better mother and help me to stay present.  They remind me that when I am not overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood, I will grieve the absence of them.  These women are honest (yet, great actresses, too), courageous, generous, and humble.  They know their limitations, which they feel poignantly.  They are the greatest proof that living when you'd rather die is not only possible, but beautiful - and empowers others for whom living may be hard, too - whatever the reasons.

These women do not belong to me, but I want to keep them close and hold on to the hem of their garment.  I want to feel the flow of strength they cannot feel, but that I can see, so vividly.  I'm not sure, but I think everyone can.  You may be one of these women and wondering why strangers keep pulling on your clothes.  If not, you undoubtedly know one.

If you can, please join me in saying,

"Thank you, Moms, for letting us remain near you and for your example.  Sorry about the hem.  You should probably find a good seamstress, 'cause we're not turning loose any time soon..

For you, we eagerly await the day that you are with your children who have gone before you, and all will be well in your world once again.  May God continue to grant you grace sufficient for the moment, as we continually and unfailingly see Him doing, in you.  Happy Mother's Day."




 

Toast or Bacon - Marriage Over Breakfast

Today it was bacon instead of toast.  I was making breakfast and said, "How many pieces of toast do you want?"  He heard, "How many pieces of bacon do you want?"  I clarified.  He insisted.  I bristled.  The words had barely left my lips.  We defended our truth as passionately as though our lives depended on it.  His confidence in his defense (and simultaneous accusation) went right through me.  And he wanted to know how I could be SO sure I said what I thought I said?!  BECAUSE I was still making toast, I only had a fixed amount of bacon, anyway, I was looking at the toast, I said toast, and I heard myself say TOAST. 

That's how. 

Sometimes, marriage is just hard.  Just a week ago today, we renewed our vows with a group of couples doing the same.  Only, on that particular night, we didn't want to.  Sometimes beautiful opportunities with beautiful people come when only ugliness can be felt and it seems like a cosmic joke even to be present, much less participate in something so sacred.  We renewed our vows anyway.  If we hadn't liked the people we were with more than we liked each other, we probably would have left early.  It wasn't that either of us has/had plans to do anything other than what we promised to do when we got married 13 years ago, but we didn't FEEL like saying it again.  Not on that night.  

Things were more or less fine before we left, but I had the brilliant idea to ask for his input on which shirt I should wear.  I held up two shirts, and asked, "Which one do you like better?" to which he said, "Those are shirts?!"  That was it.  My patience disappeared in the span it took to ask a single question.   We never recovered.  Well, not never.  Just not that night.

In fact, it wasn't until the next day when I realized this boiled down to forgiveness.  I was sitting in Mass looking at Jesus hanging on the cross, and I "heard" Jesus ask me, "Can you forgive him?"  I knew this question was aimed at my feelings (and the way I blamed my husband for them) and not anything he had actually done wrong, which is usually the case.  Knowing the forgiveness I have already received and continue to receive, my interior response was a sheepish yes.  Ha.  Funny about being sheepish in the presence of the Shepherd. 

This yes ultimately made itself known when my arm conspired with the heroic effort of my heart.  I put my hand on my husband's shoulder in the car on the way home.  And so, we began again.

To help me along my journey in taking responsibility for myself and remembering that nothing, even that suffering which we perceive to be caused by another, is outside of God's plan for us, Trustful Surrender to Divine Providence (The Secret of Peace and Happiness) says:

Do not let ourselves be troubled when we are sometimes beset by adversity, for we know that it is meant for our spiritual welfare and carefully proportioned to our needs, and that a limit has been set to it by the wisdom of the same God who has set a bound to the ocean.  Sometimes it might seem as if the sea in its fury would overflow and flood the land, but it respects the limits of its shore and its waves break upon the yielding sand.  There is no tribulation or temptation whose limits God has not appointed so as to serve not for our destruction but for our salvation.

And this is how it goes.  All good for a good long while.  Then, the road gets bumpy.  And bumpier still.  Toast becomes bacon and bacon becomes a blog post and the waves break upon the yielding sand. 

In my work, I have the privilege of encountering many couples who have been married over 50 and 60 years.  I ALWAYS ask if they give marriage advice.  Usually, they don't.  This always takes me by surprise.  Maybe, they don't feel any more certain about what works than they did in the beginning.   Maybe they know talking about it doesn't do any good.  But, occasionally, when they're willing, it is one word. 

Commitment. 

One very faithful woman who stopped counting after 50 years of marriage is married to a non-church goer.  For 50 years, she has laid his suit out on the bed on Sunday morning.  "In case he changes his mind, all he has to do is step into it."  What?!  How do you not become bitter or apathetic?  Her answer is simply her appreciation for how God has not given up on her and consequently, His love for her models her love for her husband. 

What a good and unfailing model.

The Other Side

A book review for all who have lost someone, fear death, or are just curious...

The Other Side was a fascinating read, despite being poorly written.  However, I think the reason behind its disjointedness is a good one.  This book is a litany of quotes, dreams, and impressions from people who have been to “the other side”.  Most have “died”, gone toward or to heaven, and returned to share what they have seen and experienced.  

The author is a Catholic writer and former investigative journalist.  As such, there are many references and descriptions of purgatory, as well as many other references, which pertain to the life of the Catholic Church.  I think this book would be a great consolation to anyone who has any angst about a family member who has died or fears death themselves, but I would hesitate to recommend it, if purgatory and other Catholic doctrine would be a stumbling block.  

Much attention is paid to the transition between earth and the spiritual realm, at which time we are fully (hyper) conscious.  “When the physical body is removed…we step into the spiritual condition we have been building within us.”  The direction and speed at which this transition is made, seems to be most positively affected by one’s capacity to love and most negatively affected by earthly attachments (depicted by threads, ropes, and chains) and sins of selfishness and pride.  The book also addresses those who get “stuck” and where “ghosts” fit in. 

While the details are many, the experiences of the dead and dying usually include a tunnel, a great Light (often revealed as Jesus) accompanied by overwhelming feelings of love and peace, indescribable beauty, living music where “truth is translated into song”, instant knowledge and communication through thoughts, encounters with deceased loved ones (Family is still important!), a decision point, conception that they have a mission, and a review of their life which feels like anything but judgment.  They describe “judgment” as an instantaneous understanding of every thought, word, and deed from your life at every angle.  The feelings accompany what is understood, and you see all from your perspective, from the perspective of those who were impacted (good and bad), and from God’s perspective. 

There is one chapter on hell, but it is forgettable in contrast to the enumerated delights of heaven, especially when the author makes it clear that people who are there have chosen it. 

Integration of the book into ministry

The impact of this book starts with me.  I’ve never really feared death, nor thought much about my own even, but reading this book has shifted my feeling about it from neutrality to excitement.  As one woman who was electrocuted, but survived said, “If I lived a billion years more, in my body or yours, there’s not a single experience on earth that could ever be as good as being dead.”

After finishing this book today, I don’t feel like I could ever pity a dying or dead person again, not for the death experience anyway.  The angst of separating from those you love, and the grief of those left behind will always hurt me as long as I am human.  Otherwise, not being paralyzed by death is a great feeling.  It feels like the appropriate spiritual posture of a Christian who believes in and hopes for Eternal Life. 

For those I am privileged to encounter in my ministry, this book will enable me to listen with a greater understanding and believe that their “stories” are real, as well as “open up” these types of conversations when appropriate.  Just last week, I visited a patient who had suffered his fourth stroke.  He quickly told me that his faith was strong and doing well.  He shared further that he “died” during his first stroke.  He saw the Light and twoA  deceased brothers on a hill of green, of which earth could never conceive.  His brothers were beckoning for him, but he shook his head “no”.  He understood that it wasn’t his time, as the Lord had more for him to do.  One of those brothers died at a young age from leukemia.  He was very ill, and needed help going to the restroom.  While my patient was waiting for his brother, his brother asked him, “Do you see that?”  He didn’t.  “The angels are coming for me.”  And shortly after that, he said, “Do you hear that?”  He didn’t.  “I hear trumpets.  They’re getting louder.”  His brother died the next day…

I believed him.

Finally, this book confirmed many things for me, which could constitute a solid “rule of life” for all:

1.  Think simply.

2.  Be grateful.

3.  Forgive.

4.  Do not judge.  Judgment inhibits your ability to love.

5.  Don’t speak more than you need to.  Use that time to pray.

6.  Never be discouraged.  God does not expect you to be perfect right now; just improve a little each day and you are on the way to perfection. 

7.  Pray to know your mission.

8.  Ask God to show you your life as you will see it one day!

9.  All of our life is reduced to love, humility, and unselfishness.

10.  The core of our being is all that we possess upon death and that core must be filled with the light of love to get to the Light that is Love.  “God is light and in Him is no darkness at all.”  1 John 1:5

Ducks on Wheels

At the close of my silent retreat last weekend, I parked myself at a pond's edge and took to watching the ducks.  At first glance, and certainly my long-held, un-analyzed impression, attributed a peaceful existence to these winged beauties.  But, if you watch them for any length of time, you realize they are engaged in ceaseless activity!  While it is true, they don't generally make a lot of noise (unless they're chasing off another), they are not at rest!  They "duck" their heads under the water, repeatedly.  They raise themselves up by flapping their wings.  They preen their chests.  They preen under their wings.  They submerge altogether.  They follow.  They chase.  They paddle.  They quack.  They fly.

This makes me wonder about their restlessness, which seems ingrained in them.  Normally, I think of restlessness as the opposite of contentment.  Naturally, the question proposed itself.  Are ducks content?

Merriam Webster says content means pleased and satisfied.  Not needing more.

I'm not sure, but I think they are incapable of being content or discontented.  They are ducks, doing what ducks do.  They just are.

Maybe the restlessness/contentment contrast doesn't hold for ducks, but I think it has implications for us.  We seem to possess a similar restlessness.  We resemble the duck in his ceaseless activity.  We are ducks who drive cars.

But, we have an advantage.  The advantage.  The advantage of knowing our Creator and resting in Him.  We are limited by short attention spans, uncomfortable chairs, mercurial thermostats, whiny knees, the tiniest of hunger pangs, and a million assaults from the phone in our pocket, but we ARE capable of it.  And the more we practice this resting in the Creator, the more capable we become.

Lord, teach me to rest in You.  Amen.

Does God Use Toothpicks?

Recently, I was visiting patients on the floor at the hospital.  As I was leaving one patient's room, a gentleman from another room met me in the hallway.  "My grandfather needs a toothpick."  I explained that the hospital may have some in the cafe or the cafeteria and inquired if he knew where either of those locations were.  He assured me that he could find it.  In spite of his hopeful confidence, I invited him to walk with me to see what we could come up with.

As we walked, we talked about his grandfather and skimmed over pieces of his own journey in life.  The cafe didn't have toothpicks, nor did any of the drawers in my department.  Grateful for the conversation, but empty-handed, we walked back to his grandfather's room. 

Prior to entering, I checked the room number against my patient list, to make sure we were in the right place.  We were.  But, to my absolute amazement, delight, and disappointment, the grandfather we were hunting toothpicks for, was a man I knew and loved!  He was someone I visited regularly at the nursing home I've been visiting for nearly a year.

He stole my heart one of the first times I asked him how he was doing.  He was 99-years-old and blind, lying peacefully on his bed in a dark room, holding his call button with both hands, and said, "Every day is a holiday.  Every meal a feast.  Smell every rose as you go by, 'cause you only pass this way but once."

I would probably be smitten with anyone who answered that question that way, but this man, in that room?  Definitely.

I tracked him down the following morning to deliver a baggie with toothpicks to cover another week or so of meals, I hoped.  I helped him with a sip of coffee and a bite of breakfast before the nursing staff "relieved" me.  I would have liked nothing more than to stay, but I had a full day's work ahead, so I wished him well and he thanked me for the little I did.

I tried to find him again this morning to no avail, and found out this afternoon he died over the weekend.

I've never been so grateful to have been asked for a toothpick--I would have missed him altogether.  I'm grateful for the awkward prayer I was able to pray with and for him, thanking God for his 100 years and his fidelity to those he loved.

Does God use toothpicks?  

He can if He wants to.  

It may seem like a stretch to you.  It could be a coincidence.  But, if you were me, and you were there, and you could feel the weight of what you would have missed, if it had happened any other way, I hope you would be asking right along with me, "Does God use toothpicks?!"


Dear God of Miracles Big and Small, Obvious and Overlooked,

Thank you for the incredible opportunity to know this great man, whose inner strength could be seen and felt.  Thank you for his grandson who was with him and for allowing me to be there, too.  If You use toothpicks, thank you for the implications this has for everything else in our universe!  Nothing is too small or ordinary to be used by You.  What an awesome thing to ponder!  And a great comfort, too.

Please be with this man's family and all who are grieving.  Thank you for being near to the brokenhearted. Eternal rest grant unto all who have died, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.  May they rest in peace.    Amen.