My lectio divina reading this morning comes from Psalm 39: 4-6 from Nan Merrill's Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness.
"O Loving Presence, You are with us
to the end,
whatever the measure of our days;
our life passes by as the blinking of an eye!
For the gift of life fades too
soon away,
yet how precious are we in your sight!
Surely your Plan for us is written in our hearts!
Surely your angels stand ready
to guide us on our way!
Surely there is nothing to fear,
for You abide with us; You
await patiently for us to awaken to your Love."
I opened up the book to find a Psalm after reading this in my memories from 10 years ago today:
"Difficult day to describe hanging out in my grandmother's room. Two workers sang beautiful harmonized songs accapella. A huge food cart was brought to us. Not much reaction from Meemo, though if I could lip read. .. maybe. She is definitely near the end of this leg of the journey, yet didn't go on while I was there. It is beautiful and peaceful except for the labored breathing, for which medical folks administered helpful relief. Living into the bioethics class and conference this intimately is not what I intended. My emotions are very close to the surface and I am not wearing any masks... so you are likely to see some breakdowns if you see me... Shalom"
I have not compiled my memories from my grandmother's journey of passing, but I think about it. It was a crucible time for me as I was taking a bioethics class on aging, death, and dying, and walking the path with her weekly. It was holy ground, an honor, yet not one without pain.
It's like walking in silence in the woods, under the cathedral of a tree canopy, held close by the surrounding trees and other growth. As you watch, wait, and listen to all that is around you, it is holy. But being in the woods isn't without pain. There can be the unseen root or rock that causes a stumble. Or, by being in the silence, there is the opportunity for the heart, mind, and soul to wander where they might.
from a hike in November, 2023, Lookout Mtn.
Thus is being at someone's bedside as they near the threshold. It is holy ground. You sit mostly in silence. You don't know where it will take you. You watch, you listen, you wait.
I am grateful for the memories and the experiences, even as I was taking the biothethics class. Truly, it was incredible timing, though a bit difficult.
Walking others home has been part of me for a long time, long before I became a pastor. It has been holy ground for me to be with people as they neared transition and/or made the final journey.
As I read the words from Psalm 39, they seemed to go with my memory today.
We don't need to be at the end of our journey to be reminded that the Loving Presence is with us, though, and that we are precious in their sight. The Loving Presence abided within us and waits patiently for us to awaken to the love they have for us.
That is amazingly good news!
Peace on this day!
Deb
P.S. It turns out that I did collect some of my writings and write them into a blogpost. Here is one from 5 years ago:
Reflections on aging and dying-- January 26, 2019
P.S.S. As I re-read that blogpost from 5 years ago, I might guess as to why the Psalm and the memory hit me as it did today...... my grandmother Meemo passed sometime late on the 22nd, as I wrote about on the 23rd in my post 5 years ago. Our hearts, our minds, our souls, our bodies..... they remember. We are awake to love.
DD
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