Further Connection and a Homily in Progress

So...

I wrote about my friend who proposed an intentional covenant of connection via weekly emails and monthly snail mail. So far, it's absolutely wonderful. To know that my emails will be read with care and responded to is so healing. Many times, I've tried to email, text, or call people in my world but haven't heard back from them. There's only so long that that kind of one-sided connection can last before it fizzles.

My friend said my enthusiastic response to her proposal gave her the confidence to make communication offers with other people. She has three more people who she'll be trying to stay in touch with in similar ways. With her encouragement, I decided to be brave and invite two of my other friends into the circle of connection.

So here's what I'll be doing!

With Tracy (the originator of this fantastic idea): I'll be receiving emails from her on Tuesdays and responding to them on Wednesdays. In addition, I'll be sending her a piece of real mail at least once a month.

With Kody: I'll be emailing him on Sundays. He's asked for two days of response time, so I'll be hearing back from him by Tuesdays. He also agreed to snail mail at least once a month and counter-proposed occasional packages as well!

With Kt: She liked the idea too, but said she writes enough emails in her life and would like to become...wait for it...actual pen pals, writing real mail to each other, trying for once a week.

So there you have it! The ways in which I hope to continue to be connected to my incredible friends. Now, I'd like to be intentional about spending time with Dan locally. Perhaps a guaranteed once a week walk? Away from anything with a screen to drag our attention away from each other.

Exciting.

On another note, I'm currently at a coffee shop getting my writing juices flowing with this blog because Sunday is my annual hospice memorial service. This is my once a year event where I invite everyone who has lost a loved one on our care for the past year to a memorial service that I have planned and facilitate. I think the event will be welcoming and hopefully healing for people. I have a local high school ensemble chorus who will be coming to share music with us. Dan's running the sound. My mom and Dan's mom are catering for the 2nd year in a row. The order of service has been printed beautifully thanks to one of my co-workers. I've received RSVPs to make me feel calmer about all the effort going into this event. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, which is excellent considering last year it POURED the day of.

Only thing left?

My homily.

It's also what was last minute for me last year. Damn procrastinating personality! It's just very difficult to write a homily that encompasses so many different people, both our deceased patients and their families. When I'm asked to do a service for a particular person, it's nice because I can focus on THEM. I can get personal stories, ask families what they want to have included, make the songs and words intentionally reflect particular people.  But for dozens of different people and the staff that take care of them...much more difficult.

I want to focus on universal themes of loss and the trauma of death. Because frankly, death disrupts our lives. We're going along, living our day-to-day, then boom! Someone we love dies. And the truth of it is, no matter how many people tell you "It's going to be ok." there is, at least for a moment, a time where it doesn't feel that way. We live in a very death-denying society. With the transition of deaths to hospitals and nursing homes, (which are viable options, don't get me wrong) the feeling of someone dying has turned from being personal and family-oriented to stranger and machine-oriented. Hospice is trying to open up the possibility of people having the choice to die in their homes, surrounded by family, and photos, and memories, and love. In a personal way.

When someone dies in our culture, who is not a celebrity, I find that there is a stressful push to "be ok now!" We try to get back to "normal" as quickly as possible. At my HOSPICE job, it's written into the policy that employees receive "up to three days" of bereavement time at the death of a close loved one. And "close" only counts for parents, grandparents, and siblings. Really? Three days? Yeah, right. I think this is especially bogus when the person who we've lost because the sun of our universe...illness causing them to be the center of our world perhaps under very difficult circumstance and for an extended period of time.

While I want to acknowledge and make a sacred space for the losses, and the aching holes left behind, I also want to spend a good bit of time talking about love. There's a Forrest Church quote that I adore. It will be read by the hospice social worker before I homilize. I want this quote read at my own Memorial Service hopefully MANY years from now.

By the Reverend Forrest Church who was, before his passing, a Unitarian Universalist Minister:

"Every time we commit ourselves, every time we share ourselves with another...we risk so very much. We risk disappointment...we risk the enormous pain of loss. If we try to protect ourselves from suffering, we shall manage only to subdue the very thing that makes our lives worth living. Though we can, by a refusal to love, protect ourselves from the risk of losing what or whom we love, the irony is, by refusing to love we will have nothing left that is really worth protecting."

In other words, the only way we can avoid the pain of grief is also by avoiding the joy of love.
And I, for one, do not believe that my life would be worth a lick of beans, as they say here in the south, if I didn't have people to love and who loved me. My ideas about god change and evolve over the years, but one thing I have been consistent on believing is that there is evidence of divine love present in the love of my family and my friends. They are the embodiment of sacred connection, hope, and love. Without them, I feel depressed and disconnected. I feel like there is nothing worthwhile. But with them I feel full and whole. I soar and can expand to a fuller potential. I can make a difference in the world because of their love.

And when I lose someone I love, then their memory, and even my guilt and regrets, spark within me a desire to live better. To love more. To tell the people I care about how grateful I am for them. Each life, and even each death, alters my life perspective. They turn the course of my life path, sometimes a little and sometimes a lot.

Each of the people coming to the service on Sunday has been affected by death in the past year. More than anything I want their losses to be acknowledged and for them to feel cared for and safe. And I want for them to eat delicious food, because I fully believe there is something ancient and wonderful about sharing a meal with people.

Well this blog certainly has gotten my writing juices flowing just like I'd hoped! I've even been going back and forth from my homily writing while typing it. Now, I plan to focus more exclusively on my homily, praying that something loving and comforting will result.

If you have any thoughts please leave me a comment. Otherwise, until next time!

Blessings,
Kelley

Reconnection

I have a dear friend of mine who has made a beautiful proposal for us. She wants to be digital pen pals. The proposal came with specifics. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing as I'm going to ask for permission after the fact. She wrote, "I would like to make a commitment/covenant with you to email each other once per week. I could email you on Tuesdays and you could email me on Thursdays (or whatever days we decide on). It wouldn't have to take up too much time, but we could just check in with each other, stay up on life events, be encouraging to one another through the tough times."

I immediately loved the idea. After some discussion, we have also agreed to send a letter or postcard to each at least once a month! I'm very excited. What first struck me about it was the honor of being asked to take part in this endeavor with a very dear friend. I also was extremely grateful for the mutuality it implied. There have been many times in email or handwritten letter writings that I've felt like I'm putting forth all the effort. And while the writing is beneficial for me, it is so much more life-giving to have someone on the receiving end who is also actively committed to the connection.

It's also extremely lovely to feel loved. I have some very dear friends in my life. And at times when I feel like I can't land my feet on anything solid, it's incredible to have the sense of grounding that my close friends give me.

I may have written about this before, but there is a Celtic phrase that deeply moves me. It's the idea of "anam cara" which translates to "soul friend."  John O'Donahue has written a book about this concept. In it he writes, "The anam cara was a person to whom you could reveal the hidden intimacies of your life. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the friend of your soul."

I truly and deeply believe that I have more than one anam cara in my life. Which is interesting because although I feel like I have a warm personality, I don't necessarily open up myself deeply to people. There have been many occasions when I've learned that someone else feels closer to me than I feel to them. The lack of mutuality in these situations seems to come from my unwillingness, or even fear, of being fully myself with another person. But despite my own reluctance, I have somehow been blessed with deep closeness from several people. People who know me, love me, have supported me through years of friendship and who, I genuinely hope, I have made feel the same sense of love and acceptance. With them, I belong.

So here's to a covenant with my friend! A covenant to intentionally stay close and connected to one another despite our separation of many miles. And here's to my anam caras. Spread out all over the country, but so near and dear to my heart.

Blessings,
Kelley