What's It Like To Be A Preacher?

Yesterday I was sitting at a memorial service for one of my parent's closest friends. My dad did the eulogy. Nothing unusual about that considering my dad wasn't just a dear friend, but also a retired pastor. I grew up a preacher's daughter and watched my dad in the pulpit every Sunday. I saw him perform weddings. I saw him perform funerals. He took late night phone calls, counseled behind closed doors and spent hours away from home, caring for his parishioners.



Despite this awareness, as I listened to his eulogy, it struck me that my dad's career choice (and that of all clergy) is really very awe inspiring. Interestingly, my family is full of protestant ministers (on both sides), but it hadn't ever really occurred to me how deeply this career choice must affect their lives and the persons they become.

Sitting there, I thought, "What is it like to be that person?" The person who sits by your dying husband's bedside and leads you through the next few days, culminating in a funeral service. What's it like to work with a young couple who plan to marry and to be an integral part of such a joyful day. What's it like to go from hospital room to hospital room, tending to the sick. To be called upon when a family is in crisis, when a child has gone astray. To visit a new mother. To be counted on for consultation, spiritual advice, healing, words of wisdom. What's it like to hold the hand of a perfect stranger in their darkest hour?

I thought about the role clergy play in this world- such a sacred role, such an honorable role. One that holds such an extreme level of responsibility and accountability. These are the people we turn to in our most vulnerable moments. Truly, they see it all. We trust they will be there when we call. We trust them to keep our confidence. We trust they will guide us when we are lost. We trust they will listen to our deepest secrets and help us find answers. Our trust in them is total.

My dad grew up the son of a United Methodist pastor, so he knew what was in store for him. Though I doubt as young seminary student he could really grasp the full extent of what would be expected of him. How could he really comprehend the important role he'd play in so many lives? And how heavily people would count on him.

The career paths most of us choose really kind of pale in comparison. Maybe doctors get close, but even they aren't relied upon for the many and varied life circumstances that are called upon by our spiritual leaders.


Sitting in the quiet of the church while my dad spoke of his dear friend's life, I thought "Wow!" what an amazing honor it is to be this man's daughter and how thankful we should all be for those men and women who step into our lives when we need them most.

Kind of takes my breath away...


VSL

Living Long Means Growing Old

My lovely friend, Helen Rorabaugh used to tell me, "Honey, It's hell growing old." She lived to be 94, outliving her son and her husband by many, many years. In the end, she was well cared for in a top-notch assisted living facility. A nephew and her many friends made sure she had what she wanted. Problem was, all she really wanted to do was die and be with her family. It's not that Helen whined or grew apathetic or anything. Living just wasn't much fun anymore.

Now that I am in my 50's, to some extent, almost everyone my age is dealing with aging parents and relatives. It's rough. It hurts. And... it makes you realize those days are not that far off. Twenty or 30 years from now, my children will be doing the same and I will be the one facing all the horrors of growing old.

Best case scenario is you live a mostly healthy, active life and when you are quite through with this world, you go to bed one night and die peacefully in your sleep. But that's the exception. For most of us, there will be mental and/or physical deterioration that makes the smallest tasks difficult and sucks the joy out of your life. I hate this reality!

Two weeks ago, we moved my in-laws into an assisted living facility. As they go, it's a nice one. The staff seems caring, the food is decent, the environment is warm and inviting- no bad smells as you go down the halls. Despite this, my in-laws now share a small room, consisting of a sitting area, a large TV and a bed. There is a sink, a microwave and a cupboard. Off this room is a large bathroom and a large, walk-in closet. The room is light and airy, with a window that looks at a landscaped courtyard. Days don't need to be spent in the room, there are gathering rooms, a nice dining area, a covered front porch and the courtyard. There is also a spa and hair salon. Much improved over care facilities of the past.

Moving them, was not an easy decision. We'd contemplated it for months and were warned by my father-in-law that it would "kill them." In the end, there wasn't much choice and a room became available. The move itself was fraught with tears. My mother-in-law mourned the loss of her kitty and my father-in-law was just plain angry- not at us, at the situation. I don't blame them. It does feel like the beginning of the end.

Now they share a small space just blocks from the home they raised their three boys in. They are both mobile so days might find them making the trip home, moving among the rooms they hold so dear. Soon the house will be sold and even that connection to their past will be severed.

In times past, parents were moved into your home and cared for, usually by the woman of the house. I'm sure it wasn't easy, but there were few other options. Even if there were, it was the family's duty to care for mom and dad. And while some still choose to care for their elderly loved ones, more often it isn't even an option. Two income homes and families waiting to have children until later in life preclude this.

Recently, I was attending a luncheon with a group of women I went to college with. While the faces were familiar, I can see that we are in fact aging (well, of course we are). Discussing our lives, one woman said , "We're not even technically middle-aged anymore." She's right, that is, unless we live to be over 100. I don't want to grow old. I don't want to move into a tiny room with my husband. I don't want to suffer from mental deficiency and physical ailments, but unless I am one of the rare few that goes quietly in their sleep, I will.

That's life- living long means growing old and I do want to live long.

VSL

I've Been Reading

I've been told that in order to keep loyal readers checking out your latest post, you must write regularly- at least weekly. While I kept that pace up during my period of unemployment; and for a short period thereafter, I have had limited desire to so in recent months.

I believe there are periods in life when simply taking care of the necessities are about as much as you can manage. I have a compulsive need for order, so maintaining my home, my work life and my self are never options for laziness. Creative pursuits, household projects, entertaining, inventive activities are all things that take a back seat. These past months life have been somewhat uncertain and my solution has been escape.

In my new place of employment I am fortunate to work a four-day work week, leaving me with three full days to accomplish household tasks and to do as I please. With children grown and (thank God) a completely self-sufficient spouse, I've been spending my spare time buried in a book and the occasional movie.

Books are for me the greatest stress reducer of all. No matter what has caused you grief or stress during the course of a day, I can rely on the written page to take me to another world. In a lesser way, a good movie can do the same. And, while, there have been flashes of disgust for not accomplishing much beyond the necessary, I do believe there are seasons for accomplishment and seasons for maintenance. I am maintaining.

The problem with those of us who are hard-wired towards accomplishment, is that these periods of lassitude always bring about a nagging voice in your head saying, "Do something- paint the bathroom, invite some friends over, plan a trip, cook a new dish, get your body in shape, etc. etc. etc..." When that happens, I race to the library for 10 more books and burrow even deeper.

So, while most days I find myself spending much of my spare time feet up, buried in a book, I contemplate that burst of energy that is sure to come. History tells me so.

Until then, I read... and read and read and read.

VSL

Humanitarism not Socialism

I am angry. Yesterday lawmakers finally passed Health Care Reform and today there is rioting, outrage, a lawsuit by my own state, bigotry and denial.

I don't understand. We are considered a Christian nation. The most fundamental teachings of Jesus implores us to help each other. To help the underserved, the poor, those living on the fringe. Yet it's not only the very needy who are hurt by our current health care system. Working folks suffer too. Those who work in fields that don't provide insurance coverage- waiters, gardeners, small business owners, craftsman, to name a few. People doing necessary work, in fields they love.

There are the young, recent graduates who have been removed from their parent's insurance and, in this economy, can't find jobs. There are those who reached their life cap and those with pre-existing conditions who can't get the care they need when dropped by their insurance providers. There are folks who are underinsured, unable to pay the high premiums of a better plan. So many of us, just praying we don't get sick. This list goes on and on and on.

I AM EMBARRASSED TO LIVE IN A NATION THAT HAS LOOKED THE OTHER WAY DAY AFTER DAY, YEAR AFTER YEAR. I am thankful some of the pain will be alleviated by this bill. This is called humanitarianism not socialism.

To the protesters I say- DON'T YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO IS SUFFERING DUE TO EXTRAORDINARY MEDICAL BILLS OR LACK OF INSURANCE. DON'T YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO HAS LIVED WITHOUT QUALITY OF LIFE BECAUSE THEY COULDN'T AFFORD MEDICATION. Really? Don't You?

Today, in an ordinary day at work, I visited a Health Center that provides basic reproductive and sexual health services for women and men. While waiting for the employee with whom I needed to meet, I overheard her speaking to a patient. This young women had come in for a routine annual gynecological check up. In the course of this exam, it was discovered she needs some additional tests that this clinic doesn't provide. Tears welled in her eyes when asked if she had a primary care physician. "Yes", she answered. "But I can't afford him." "I don't have insurance." She was directed to a free clinic. A clinic that will likely not offer what she needs in the way of treatment. How does it feel to be that woman? To need help and not be able to get it... in the wealthiest country in the world.

I am angry but I am also just flat bewildered. How can this be? It's incomprehensible. It's unethical. It's morally corrupt. I don't understand why any American would be against health care reform.

Though I don't believe the current bill went far enough, this is what the bill will do for you:

10 THINGS EVERY AMERICAN SHOULD KNOW ABOUT HEALTH CARE REFORM
1. Once reform is fully implemented, over 95% of Americans will have health insurance coverage, including 32 million who are currently uninsured.2
2. Health insurance companies will no longer be allowed to deny people coverage because of preexisting conditions—or to drop coverage when people become sick.3
3. Just like members of Congress, individuals and small businesses who can't afford to purchase insurance on their own will be able to pool together and choose from a variety of competing plans with lower premiums.4
4. Reform will cut the federal budget deficit by $138 billion over the next ten years, and a whopping $1.2 trillion in the following ten years.5
5. Health care will be more affordable for families and small businesses thanks to new tax credits, subsidies, and other assistance—paid for largely by taxing insurance companies, drug companies, and the very wealthiest Americans.6
6. Seniors on Medicare will pay less for their prescription drugs because the legislation closes the "donut hole" gap in existing coverage.7
7. By reducing health care costs for employers, reform will create or save more than 2.5 million jobs over the next decade.8
8. Medicaid will be expanded to offer health insurance coverage to an additional 16 million low-income people.9
9. Instead of losing coverage after they leave home or graduate from college, young adults will be able to remain on their families' insurance plans until age 26.10
10. Community health centers would receive an additional $11 billion, doubling the number of patients who can be treated regardless of their insurance or ability to pay.11

How In God's name is this not a good thing? If you agree, speak up and thank the legislators in your district for voting to improve the lives of Americans.

If you don't agree and have insurance coverage- you might consider why you feel so entitled when others suffer so greatly. And... if you are a Christian, you might ask for forgiveness.

VSL

I Wish I Were More Like My Mother-In-Law

I've been thinking lately about attitudes. There are those of us who are "glass full" kinds of folks and those of us who are the half empty variety. Depending on which category you fall in, life can be easier or more burdensome. I think how we perceive life, how we manage life and how we adjust to life is measured by our most basic attitude, which, for the most part, we arrive with from birth.

This doesn't mean life can't assert itself and change our attitude, or the essence of who are, at least temporarily, but the trueness of our being always comes shining through in the end. You can be a half empty type and still have a lot of happiness in your life. However, I do believe those who are lucky enough to be born with a sunny disposition, those who have hope, no matter what is thrown their way, those people are happier in the end.

My mother-in-law is one of those hopeful, sunny people who, despite battling Alzheimer's, has a sweet, sweet nature that shines through her fog of delusion. This was most recently brought to mind after a phone conversation.

Marge calls fairly often. She has not lost her memory of family, though she does occasionally need to be reminded of relationships. Marge's phone calls are her link to those she loves most. They break up her day and provide her joy and for that I am thankful, because, as awful as it sounds, sometimes we sigh when the phone rings and our Caller ID lets us know who is on the other end. The reason for this exhalation of air is that these conversations are invariably the same- over and over and over. But they always end with "Love You." To which I reply in kind- and I do.

Despite the repetitiveness, lately, I find myself grateful. I'm grateful she can pick up the phone and call and grateful that she remembers me. And... I'm struck by the sweetness of these calls. Throughout the entire conversation what comes through is a women who is happy in her life situation, who LOVES her family and still feels such a connectedness to all of us. My last phone conversation felt like an epiphany as she relayed again how much she loves her sons, her grandchildren and her daughters-in-law. I chuckled as she shared again how much she loves her cat and how much she enjoys the pleasures of retirement (common, common themes).

As we ended the call, I thought, "Seriously?" Where does this woman's life attitude come from? She's in her senior years, mostly housebound, confused much of the time and happiness just radiates from her.

It got me thinking- I don't ever remember seeing my mother-in-law angry. Now how can that be? Everyone has seen me angry at one time or another. I don't hide that emotion easily. I realized, I've seen Marge hurt. I've seen her worried. I've seen her not feeling physically well. I've seen her flustered - but never angry.

I wish I had that gene. Too much of my life has been wasted being pissed off. Like I said, I believe you are born with the essence of your personality. It's hard-wired to your brain. Even as a child, I was just flat prickly. To be perfectly frank, I don't think anyone would want to deal with me in a delusional state in my senior years. I imagine the worst would shine through.

Thinking back to when I first met Marge. I remember my nervousness. After all I was meeting my new boyfriend's parents. Marge would have been about the age I am now. I remember rocking so fast in a rocking chair that I banged it against a wall, causing heat to rise to my face with embarrassment. I remember the Sunday brunch she prepared with fresh fruit submerged in champagne. Most of all, I remember how welcoming she was.

In the ensuing years, Marge has never once criticized me. She has never once intruded on how we live our lives. Despite many differences in opinion, she has never once argued with me. She has never expressed anger towards me. She has never shown jealousy or possessiveness. For 30+ years she has continued to hold her arms open wide with love and support.

Over those many years, I watched Marge evolve from an empty-nester searching for the next thing, to a professional business woman filled with a need to explore her spirituality and learn more about her body and what she was putting in it. Like many women in their middle years, Marge's most authentic self emerged.

It was with dismay, when, about 5 years ago, we began to notice the forgetfulness and inability to perform simple functions. The eventual diagnosis of Alzheimer's was really a foregone conclusion by the time it was official. Watching her progress through this final affront has been painful. It has also been very frustrating, particularly for my father-in-law, her primary caretaker.

If Marge's life attitude were different, if she had a dark core, or was easily angered, easily dissatisfied or was a hurtful person, I am convinced those traits would be rearing their ugly head's. Traversing Alzheimer's with someone other than Marge would be an entirely different story.

How lucky are we, that despite the many frustrations and the sadness over this betrayal, we have been granted a women who remains happy. A women who expresses her love and her satisfaction in life in every conversation.

That most recent phone call got me thinking, "I wish I were more like my mother-in-law." Life would be so much more fun.

Love You, Dear Marge.

VSL

Yummy, Chocolatey Goodness!

The weekend started out pretty poopy- and I say that literally. I had a colonoscopy on Friday and for those who've been through this experience, you know Thursday was not a fun day for me. After my last experience with this humiliating procedure, I was pretty nervous. It didn't turn out well and I found myself having major surgery not long after.

I'm happy to report this time around all is good and I don't have to have one again for 5 years! As in most life situations, one can usually find a bright spot. For me this occurred as I was in the waiting room, nervously browsing through some lame magazine, when I happened upon a tear out recipe for "Molten Chocolate Cake." It sounded exactly like the delectable dessert I ate EVERY day while cruising in October.

Even thought the magazine wasn't mine, I had no qualms about ripping out the recipe. I figured I deserved it for the miserable 24 hours I was enduring. And, this dessert made me seriously happy.

Often, when I am anticipating a new dish or dessert that sounds amazing or like something I've had (and loved) before, I find myself disappointed in the results- not this time. It tasted exactly like what I remember from the ship. I made the dessert for my parents today and IT WAS SERIOUSLY TO DIE FOR!

If you are a chocolate lover, a dessert lover or just someone looking for some comfort in these gloomy, winter days, you've got to try this. It will warm your heart and satisfy all your taste buds.

You need to eat this warm, pretty much straight from the oven. I whipped it up after we ate lunch- giving us some time for the meal to settle and to prepare our stomachs for a chocolate onslaught of deliciousness!

MOLTEN CHOCOLATE CAKE
Prep: 15 minutes Total: 29 minutes

4 squares Bakers's Semi-Sweet Baking Chocolate
1/2 cup butter (use the real thing)
1 cup powdered sugar
2 eggs
2 egg yolks
6 Tbsp. flour

Preheat oven to 425. Butter 4 (3/4 cup) custard cups or souffle dishes.
Microwave chocolate and butter in large microwaveable bowl on HIGH 1 minute or until butter is melted. Stir in sugar until well blended. Whisk in eggs and egg yolks. Stir in flour. Divide batter between prepared custard cups. (use whatever you have, ramekins would be good- I used two small corning ware dishes).

Bake 13-14 minutes or until sides are firm but centers are soft (it will pull away a bit from the sides and be firm to the touch on top). Let stand 1 minute. Carefully run small knife around cakes to loosen. Invert cakes onto dessert dishes. Serve immediately. (I did not remove them from their baking dishes. I sprinkled them with powdered sugar and we ate them straight from the dishes they were baked in).

Makes 8 servings, 1/2 molten cake each. (Now this, I disagree with. Four of us finished off the dessert and it was, by no means, too much.)

Also suggested was to top with whipped cream. Really not necessary. It's richness stands on it's own.

Enjoy!

VSL

Unto Us A Child Is Born

Christmas was a snowy and messy one this year. The snow totaled close to 15 inches, creating scary drives, cancelled plans, extra work, stress and cabin fever. Messy as it was, holiday drama was even messier. I think most, in my family, breathed a sigh of relief when it was over.

This isn't always the case. The Christmas holidays have always been a happy, rich time of family and tradition. Most years, we anticipate this gathering of loved ones all year long. Christmas changed for us a couple years ago, when we lost a young family member in early December. We are still floundering, trying to find a balance between grief and tradition.

Which brings me back to Christmas 2009. In the midst of the mess a baby boy was born. His name is Devin and he is the son of my sister's foster daughter. The labor and delivery of this beautiful 9 lb. baby boy went smoothly. Not so, the first days of his life.

A couple days after Devin's birth, he contracted pneumonia. Apparently this is not uncommon in newborns, but it is scary to the people who love him. Little Devin spent a few days in intensive care with a feeding tube and an IV in his head. His mom was distraught. His dad was exhausted with fatigue and worry. Fortunately, Devin recovered quickly and was able to go home after a short stay in ICU.

On his first night home, Devin's mom had a violent, terrifying seizure. An ambulance was called and the family rushed back to the hospital. After undergoing tests, no reason for the seizure was found, and again, this new mom was released. It was deja vu. That night around the same time, Katherine, again, suffered a violent seizure, followed by another harrowing trip to the hospital. Then two more seizures in the hospital. The strength of the last rendered her unconscious for several hours. It was clear she wouldn't be going anywhere soon- especially home to care for a newborn.

As of this date, Katherine is still hospitalized (though she has suffered no additional seizures)and her son is with my sister's family - a family that hasn't cared for a newborn in 21 years! Although Devin's family had all the supplies at hand in their home, not so my sister. Diapers and formula were purchased, as well as clothes and blankets. I offered the cradle made for my son by his grandfather 2o years ago.

While his mom aches to hold him, Little Devin is being well cared for. This little guy has worked his way into our hearts, with his head of dark hair, intensely focused eyes and dimpled cheeks. He rarely cries, only when hungry and that is easily solved. Devin sucks down a bottle with amazing speed. My niece usually takes the night shift, allowing my sister much needed rest and the ability to handle the daytime hours.

I don't think Becky could have known how her role would evolve, for Devin's parents consider Becky a grandmother and their most trusted caretaker. I think, by now, the realization must have occurred to her that once named, the role is yours. Blood doesn't define who we are, not to those who love us. For many blood can sometimes be tied to folks we don't even want to name. Family can be, and often is, who we choose and who chooses us.

Even messy Christmases bring never anticipated JOY.

For Unto Us A Child Is Born!!!

VSL