2022 - An Incredible Year of Change

What an extraordinary year this has been. A year of endings and beginnings. A year where fervent prayers have been answered. A year of stories, miracles, and quiet, deep, steadfast, love. 

Indeed I am awash with gratefulness as this year ends. 

For the first seven months of this year, besides doing much Storytelling virtually and in person, I had the privilege of continuing as a hospice chaplain. I worked with the most caring, competent, genuinely lovely professional team imaginable. We were the Home Hospice Team of BridgingLife Hospice in Westminster, Maryland consisting of nurses, social workers, aides, and chaplains who went into people's homes to care for the dying and their families. 

I gathered incredible stories of families' care, sacrifice, and often humor as they midwifed a love one into eternity. Those memories keep washing over my mind bringing a moment of deep reflection, sometimes a wave of sadness, often a smile or a chuckle. 

The hospice experience taught me to be open to talking about death with strangers. 

The holidays can be a dismal time for those who are grieving a recent death or the anniversary of one. They hide their pain as the world around them celebrates. 

Sometimes they are relieved to share their sorrow. 

On Christmas Eve I was at an upmarket supermarket picking up a Yule Log for my brother's feast the next day. A store employee helped me with with the brutish automatic checkout station. 

It turned out that early the next morning he was starting a seventeen hour drive to see his mother. 

I have no idea why I told him that I'd been a hospice chaplain but once I did a look of relief came over his face. He said - "so I can tell you. I am going home to see my mother but also to say goodbye to my father who is on home hospice care."

And there among the Christmas carbs and hurry scurry of festive preparations he told me his story and shared his feelings. Two strangers connecting in an under-the- mask, heart to heart way. Just for a moment. But it is up there with one of my lasting memories of the season. All thanks to hospice training. 

I regretfully left hospice to joyfully plunge back into full time Storytelling. And to prepare my home and my heart to marry the truest, kindest, most loving and lovable man - an answer to decades of prayer. The biggest personal ending and beginning imaginable. 

There was one huge ending that rocked the world and had a huge impact on so many of our lives. The death of our beloved Queen Elizabeth ll after 70 years of impeccable, selfless service. Then the beginning of a new Royal era with the ascension of Charles 111. God bless the Queen, and long live the King. 

In other far less significant endings. My beloved Subaru Outback became far to friendly with a deer in Kentucky and their head on collision resulted in my new to me late model, bells and whistles filled version. 

My computer reached the end of its working days and has just been replaced with a new version that can do the most incredible, unimaginable things that bring joy to my technology-loving husband's heart!

So many changes great and small. 

So many things to learn. 

So much adapting needed. 

It has been a year of years. Life changing. 

The second act has ended in the play of my life. 

The third act begins. 

This New Years Eve , as I share my traditional end of year post and poem, I know that even though the future is uncertain - I am a freelance Storyteller after all - it will be undergirded with love. 

May that be true for you also in the coming year. 

My annual reflection:

"In the dark, uncertain days at the end of 1939 after Britain had declared war on Germany, King George V1 quoted this poem in his Christmas speech to the Empire. (It was taken from a longer work called "God Knows" penned by an academic turned missionary, Minnie Louise Haskins in 1908. More recently, the words were spoken at the Queen Mother's funeral in 2002.)

"And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:

"Give me a light, that I may tread safely into the unknown!"

And he replied:

"Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.

That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way"

In this coming year, through the loving power of the Ancient of Days, may hurting hearts be healed.  May long-awaited promises be fulfilled.  May hope push out despair.  May we dance often, and with passion. And may new doors of heart-soaring opportunity be flung open for all of us.  Amen!"

Teaching Veterans Storytelling at William and Mary

I am having the most wonderful time in Williamsburg with Stephanie Garibaldi. We are here at William and Mary teaching Storytelling  to Veterans who are transitioning from the services into business arenas. It is the most inspiring program - created by the Armed Services Arts Progran (ASAP) together with the University. The  participants are an incredible group of men and women - brave warriors all. 

The course consists of two days of teaching with a day off in the middle. On the first introductory day Stephanie and I were joined by Firefighter, Veteran and Storyteller Nick Baskerville. Tomorrow (Thursday) Stephanie and I will teach the story crafting and telling section solo. 

Today, on our down day, Stephanie and I caught up on three years of news. We told stories, laughed uproariously; perused some of Williamsburg's fabulous shops; ate glorious food; and plotted out a joint storytelling adventure that we are hoping to launch in the near future. 

More of that in a few weeks time. 

Exciting Times lie ahead!

In the meantime we are looking forward to another full day of classes. 

And so are the participants. 

They told us at that at the beginning of the course they hadn't had any idea what to expect and were somewhat reticent about storytelling. But soon, as they participated in story-finding exercises and games, and shared stories in pairs, the room had rung with laughter, and camaraderie and bonding took place before our eyes. 

The participants said they had been taken out of their comfort zone; rediscovered truths about themselves; remembered who they really were, and thoroughly enjoyed the journey. 

They had been introduced to - and reveled in - the incredible transformative power of Storytelling.

Glory!

I am having the most wonderful time in Williamsburg with Stephanie Garibaldi. We are here at William and Mary teaching Storytelling  to Veterans who are transitioning from the services into business arenas. It is the most inspiring program - created by the Armed Services Arts Progran (ASAP) together with the University. The  participants are an incredible group of men and women - brave warriors all. 
The course consists of two days of teaching with a day off in the middle. On the first introductory day Stephanie and I were joined by Firefighter, Veteran and Storyteller Nick Baskerville. Tomorrow (Thursday) Stephanie and I will teach the story crafting and telling section solo. 
Today, on our down day, Stephanie and I caught up on three years of news. We told stories, laughed uproariously; perused some of Williamsburg's fabulous shops; ate glorious food; and plotted out a joint storytelling adventure that we are hoping to launch in the near future. 
More of that in a few weeks time. 
Exciting Times lie ahead!
In the meantime we are looking forward to another full day of classes. 
And so are the participants. 
They told us at that at the beginning of the course they hadn't had any idea what to expect and were somewhat reticent about storytelling. But soon, as they participated in story-finding exercises and games, and shared stories in pairs, the room had rung with laughter, and camaraderie and bonding took place before our eyes. 
The participants said they had been taken out of their comfort zone; rediscovered truths about themselves; remembered who they really were, and thoroughly enjoyed the journey. 
They had been introduced to - and reveled in - the incredible transformative power of Storytelling.
Glory!

Ice on Snow

Last night the one hour drive back from seeing my love in Fairfax, VA, took two and a half hours. The snow, that had been gently drifting down when I left, quickly turned into a heavy outpouring accompanied by icy rain. 

I was so grateful that I had spent several winters in Canada, and that I drive an all wheel drive Subaru Outback. Even so, great chunks of ice attached themselves to my windscreen wipers causing them to thud, thud, thud, against the windscreen barely removing the sheet of ice that had formed making it incredibly difficult to see. Traffic crawled forwards. I skidded a couple of times. 

It was scary. 

I prayed furiously. 

A few hours after getting home I saw that a sheet of ice had covered my front living room bay window making it impossible to see the driveway that lies right outside. 

I was not looking forward to the shoveling that loomed in my near future. 

Thick ice on top of snow. Nightmare!

This morning I delayed the inevitable. 

So I was overjoyed just now when my doorbell rang. Standing there was a young lad with a woolen hat, shovel, and a mask covering what I knew to be his sweet, cheeky grin. 

Anthony has shoveled my driveway a few times over the last several years. This time he is taller, fourteen, and much better at negotiating. Also there is some expensive, electronic, musical-wizardry he is saving up to buy. 

Despite the sharp rise in the price of hard labor, I am delighted to have made a contribution to the creative aspirations of the upcoming generation. 

And to not have to shovel. 

Thank you, Anthony. 

And thank you Lord!

Beginnings and Endings - Thanksgiving Blessings

As we approach Thanksgiving I am incredibly grateful for many things, including two images that keep replaying in my mind. Both events happened recently in my role as a hospice chaplain. Both were deeply moving blessings at opposite ends of life’s continuum. 

The first took place in a rural, cosy farmhouse deep in Maryland’s arable land. 

My patient was an older man. His wife of fifty years was gently rocking their baby granddaughter in her arms. The child was nestled into her warmth, her safety, her love, and soon relaxed into sleep. 

The couple shared their life, their story. Being together for such a long time is sometimes a matter of courage and rugged endurance rather than hearts and roses. 

And then we all bowed our head to pray.

Suddenly I realized that the child had woken up, silently slid off her grandma’s lap, and was standing in front of me with her arms raised. I looked at her grandmother, who smiled, and so I lifted up the child who then immediately cuddled into me before playing with my glasses. The prayer didn’t stop throughout this. It flowed on. I don’t think my patient realized that there had been a changing of laps until later. 

I have never had a physical child of my own, although I have nephews and a niece whom I love. And I have had many spiritual sons and daughters - including my “big, bad boys” when I was chaplain in a men’s prison. So this child, coming to me in that way, clearly feeling so comfortable in my arms, while we were communing with the Almighty, deeply moved me. A loving blessing. A cuddly, kissable, unexpected package that melted my heart. 

The second image, that took place in a more urban setting, is of an British man in his nineties who had lost his wife a few months before. I knew them before she died. Theirs was a true, loving, adventure-filled union of over 60 years. 

We talked deeply. I played him music, English torch songs like The White Cliffs of Dover. His childhood favorite “The Grand Old Duke of York.” Classic British hymns sung by full-throated choirs such as “And Did Those Feet in Ancient Times Walk upon England’s Pastures Green?” We came to the last piece of music that he requested, Andrea Bocelli singing The Lord's Prayer

“Can  I hold your hand?” he said. 

And together, fingers linked, we listened to that glorious piece as heaven drew close to us and filled that room. I’m sure in his mind he was holding another British woman’s - his wife’s hand - while I was silently praying for peace, grace, and strength for him in the days ahead when he would no doubt be slipping through the veil. From life to real life. 

Both of those physical contacts in the midst of prayer - spoken and sung - were huge, meaningful blessings to me. From a child at the beginning of life, to a fellow countryman at the end of his. The Lord’s presence was rich and thick in both settings. 

It reminds me that the Lord promises us that He will always be with us in our beginnings and our endings - as well as in all our in betweens. He will never let us go, never leave or forsake us. 

No matter what you are feeling as Thanksgiving approaches - joy, trepidation, grief, excitement. Whether you will be surrounded by friends and family; celebrating by yourself, unwillingly or not; or grieving someone who is no longer there, may you feel the Lord’s love in unexpected, meaningful ways. 

May tangible blessings touch you. 

And may you know in deep, soul-warming ways, that you are loved, and never alone.

Good Grief! Pandemic Parables From a Hospice Chaplain. Holy Fools

Good Grief! Pandemic Parables from a Hospice Chaplain 

January 3rd 2021 

Holy Fools 

As many of you already know, I have started a new job as a Hospice Chaplain at a hospital 50 minutes from my home in Frederick, Maryland. It is in a fairly rural area adjacent to the outer fringes of Baltimore.

My first day was Monday December 28th, the Feast of the Holy Innocents. That is when, in Christian tradition, King Herod sent soldiers to kill all the male babies under two years of age in Bethlehem in an attempt to exterminate the Messiah, who wasn’t there. Thanks to an angel warning his adoptive dad, the Light of the World was a helpless new refugee fleeing in the care of His parents towards the relative safety of Egypt.

In Spain, where my parents moved when I was eleven, December 28th is known as the Feast of the Holy Fools, the equivalent of our April 1st All Fools Day. Like here tricks are played on the unwary.

I thought it was a fitting day to start my new assignment. (And I’m glad to report no tricks were played on me my first day!)

I’m happy to be a somewhat holy fool, starting to climb a steep learning curve into an area of chaplaincy that is new to me, including visiting patients in their homes, in a time when the pandemic is still ranging. My much loved sister-in-law Nancy, has always said (as she has watched me lurch from one adventure to the next in various parts of the world including working in a Canadian Christian retreat center and a Maryland and New Zealand men’s prison,) that I go where angels fear to tread. I’m hoping that is only partly true as I’d like some angels to accompany me on this stage of the journey.

During my fifteen months training for chaplaincy I worked as a Hospital Chaplain - the past year of that as a full time Resident - in my local hospital. I am now on the “Home Team” based in a Hospice House and will be visiting with people in their homes, who are, for the most part, within six months of dying, as well as deeply listening to their family and caregivers. I consider it a great honor to be allowed into people’s lives at such an intensely private, emotion-filled time.

This particular Hospice program is excellent in many ways. For a start they recognize that people are made up of body, soul, and spirit, and they have teams of people meld their specialties to ensure that overlapping care is given to all parts of the patient. So I will be working with nurses, social workers, a doctor, and others, to ensure each patient and their family get the maximum possible, all-encompassing care. Everyone I have met so far on the Hospice staff have been deep, loving, caring, highly competent people. It will be a joy to get to know them better, and to work with them.

Before starting at the hospice I had only visited the attached hospital once. All the interviews were done from my favorite living room chair either by phone or a Zoom equivalent. I was beginning to wonder if the hospital building really existed. I discovered it did when I had to go in for a pre-employment physical. That included being fitted for a mask. I already knew that N95s don’t fit me well, but the hospital also uses N100s, which look like they could be a gas mask. (Which I suppose, in a way they are.)

I distinguished myself at that physical. Unfortunately not because of my sleek, healthy physique (ha!) No! I was told that I was the only person in the whole hospital who failed the test for fitting an N100! Apparently the men of the hospital have all been shaving off their facial hair to ensure a close fit. It worked for them. I wax and I failed.

The injustice of it all!

The first few days of my employment were official orientation for all new staff to the hospital/hospice. Some of this was virtual. Then for the first month I will shadow the other Hospice Chaplains to see how they do things before being launched with my own roster of patients. I’m glad of the thorough initiation as there is so much to learn!

Unlike the Hospice that is part of the hospital where I trained, chaplains are still going into homes and nursing homes to see patients. (At my former facility Hospice visits are only done by phone.) That means we have to have twice weekly COVID tests - one is the quick test, and the other is the one that goes to a lab for analysis. In addition, I will get the vaccine as soon as possible- many staff have already had their first dose. That is one injection that will be a delight to have administered!

On Wednesday and Thursday I went with another chaplain to see my first patients. In preparation, on Tuesday night I was ushered into the store room and issued a large assortment of PPE to be kept in my car. If the patient does not have Covid we have to wear masks, face shields, and gloves. If they have Covid, plastic gowns, a second pair of gloves, and disposable booties are added to the mix.

Chaplains, of course, have to travel to the same destination in separate cars because of distancing. Which means missing out on a lot of bonding and information swapping. But needs must.

I felt like a swaddled alien seeing my first, non-Covid patient wearing protective gear. Going from the bitterly cold outside to cozy homes, not only did my glasses fog up, my shield did also. And it seemed to stay that way for much of the time before we left. It wasn’t any easier by the third visit. But I’m sure I’ll get into the swing of the extra safety layers soon. What incredibly odd times we live in!

Already I’ve learned such a lot - especially in the three visits. Such different circumstances with deep love, filial devotion, and understandable frustration and burnout clearly demonstrated in each separate place - and all three intermingling in less obvious, more subtle ways in every household. Love, bravery, fear, anger, faith, and anxiety all jostling for attention as families take their last journeys together.

It was good to have three days off for the New Year weekend to take in and absorb all that had happened in the four days since I started the job – as well as looking back on the extraordinary past twelve months.

We have all changed such a lot in the virus-soaked last year. We had to! The fabric of our lives was dramatically transformed. Together with so many others I was glad to see the end of 2020. Indeed for the first time since being an adult I didn’t celebrate at midnight. My Fitbit assures me I was asleep ten minutes before the countdown ended. My psyche had clearly given up on the old and was wanting to begin the new as quickly as possible. And well rested at that!

But I know that in this next year, as I have the privilege of being part of a loving professional team that enters people’s homes and cares for those close to death and their loved ones, I shall be changed. In deep ways I will grasp hold of the true essentials of life, learn profound lessons, and come away with transformative stories.

And as for being a Holy Fool...

Holy - I don’t know about that.

A fool - certainly. But a grateful one - thankful that my odd life has taken this unlikely twist. Looking forward to seeing how this latest adventure unfolds.

In some ways we are all in the same position. Perched on the edge of the unknown. Holding our breaths. Hoping that the vaccine works. Praying the Pandemic’s roiling waters are calmed and stilled. Wondering what life will be like after this great virus storm is over.

At this year’s ending may we look back on 2021 and see that in our lives incredible miracles, both domestic and dramatic, have taken place. That there was protection, provision, relief at endings, and joy at beginnings. In new ways may we remember who we were created to be and be brave enough to take steps to let that true self emerge. May the good outweigh the bad, the joy outweigh the sorrow. And as the chimes ring in 2022 may we truly be able to say that in the past year we have learned, deepened, and that it was good.

May that be true for all of us.

Dear Lord, let it be so. Amen.