Yesterday morning we had a phone call from the sister of a woman who was in our old Church many years ago. She was a regular attender, then she moved out to a township on the edge of our city. She informed me that she would not be coming into our services and began attending another church nearer her home. Once when she visited my office she told me that this new Church was "more spiritual" than our Church, whatever that meant. That was thirty years ago. Now the sister who was talking to me on the phone told me that she had terminal cancer and her time was getting close. She had asked to see me. She had attended other Churches, but she wanted someone she could talk freely to, and so she chose me. "Do you make pastoral calls out here?" she asked. "I'm retired" I said, with the unspoken implication that "these days I am not making pastoral calls". "I know." She responded, "but she is unsettled and you're the one she wants to talk with." I said yes, and made arrangements to visit her today. This sort of call always stresses me out, but more so these days. "Am I up to such a visit? Will I say the right things? Why me?" My wife and I got talking about when, if ever we will be allowed to retire? Will we have to move out of town?
I visited and it went OK
So today I went out to visit her and found her jaundiced, sitting in a chair with a morphine pump keeping her free of pain. She looked very much older than her years, but there was still a warmth, and "pleased to see you" look in her eyes. She smiled and we fell into the warm familiarity we used to have thirty years ago. We talked about life, about death and about the issues she was concerned about. I held her hands and we prayed. I had been stressed about it, but as I shared with her I felt a relaxed confidence and freedom. Such visits are often a lovely experience. There is no play acting, no BS, just basic honesty. I came away wondering why I got so stressed in the first place.
Prepare to die...
I was working on creating a wheelbarrow out of broken bits yesterday afternoon and stewing on the visit ahead. I wondered about what she could be unsettled about. That got me thinking about death and my experiences in hospital earlier this year when a number of doctors, one after another, warned me of possible terminal outcomes, if they found cancer. I thought about my reaction then. I found I could look back on life with a good deal of gratitude, a sense of fulfilment, and while I would not want to die, I felt I had enjoyed a good life, and could not feel that I had been short changed. But that feeling of being at ease with my possible demise grew out of purposeful living. I was grateful that I had received great examples of good healthy values and purposes in life. These had led me into constructive living and relationships. I got to thinking that in a sense we cant wait for impending death to prepare for death. We prepare for death by the very quality of our day to day living. When we live well, I suspect it is easier to die well. (I hasten to add that this, for me, has nothing to do with any eternal reward or punishment. - Whatever happens or does not happen, its really about how we feel about our living as we prepare to "let go".)
Steve Covey in his book "The seven habits of successful people." suggested that we can sort out our basic principles by imagining our funeral and thinking about what we would like various people to be able to say about us - our family, our workmates, people in our community and our friends. When we decide that, then we can more clearly see our values. Once they are decided, we be sure to build them into our living. I've never done that exercise, but it does make the point that we prepare for death best, by truly living by the deep values we hold. When death comes, as it inevitably will, we can then look back with few regrets.
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| A couple of days ago we drove north for two hours to spend time with my brother and his wife. Throughout the drive I was struck by the impressive scenery - this was one view I often would have missed. |
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| On the way home we stopped on the foreshore to eat fish and chips. I love the light hitting the clouds in the late evening sun. |
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