daily life as life goes on . . .

Time spent with those closing in on the next phase of life causes reflection.

Here is a comparison I have been thinking about:

Whether in hospital, hospice or home — we can be in a "death watch" or "health care" mode.  And, you can switch modes in a short period of time.  Death care deals with pain management, health care with revitalizing nutrition.  Death care has in mind "death preparation", health care "death reflection."

Six years ago, we were on a death watch with Jill.  Well, perhaps it was more on the borderline.  Jill had surgery planned so there was hope.  But as the surgeon’s notes read — she was in such deteriorated shape she probably should not have survived the surgery. 

Prior to the surgery, we were in the mode of death preparation.  Amazing how priorities are clarified.  "I’m not doing that" became an understandable and not infrequent statement.  We sold a house to get one that was more appropriate.  We reexamined our wills.  We spent time together.

We are now in health care mode.  We will often reflect on death, but the grip is not quite as strong.

Sometimes I wonder if there is a greater reality in death watch!  Certainly there is a sense of the important.  For a Christian there is no fear (OK, pain does bring pause!) and a heightened sense of God’s presence.  Oh, that we could maintain that grasp in our hectic, daily lives.

Imagine one year in fifty.  6 billion people.

The odds of bumping into someone.  Someone who lived in the same place at the same time.  Without knowing it.

So, here’s the story.

I’m sitting at our Lenten Lunch today.  We are eating sandwiches and consuming soup.  One of the lady pastors at the United Church is next to me.  I ask her church background.

In the midst of the telling she mentions Unionville, Ontario.  The only place she ever attended an Alliance church.  My interest is piqued.  I lived in Unionville.  From 1968-1969.

Same years as Chris (Wallace) Ewing.  She repeated the years.  Yes, they were the same.  And the church was the same.

We both took the names of our parents. I phoned mine tonight.  Mom said the name may be familiar. 

Now, wouldn’t that be unusual.  Both of us pastors in the same town!  With a chance meeting 40 years ago!!

I was singing today.

At the hospital.

Went to visit John Graham.  He has not been well.  In the midst of struggles for breath he has been thinking.  About songs and scriptures.  He has memorized a number of songs.  But, you can’t always remember every verse in the midst of catching your breath!

He was thinking of the song, "How Great Thou Art".  I started singing and he lay back.  Closed his eyes.  Lay back and listened.  Someone else came in for a moment — they had just come to visit .  As I finished he opened his eyes with a slight smile on his lips.

I hope when I reach his age (I’m planning on living to 100 or dying in the attempt — John is 94) I’ll be able to sit back and listen to the songs of faith.

God is good, all the time.  And all the time, God is good.

I sat with John today.

He is struggling to breathe.  Fluid has built up on his lungs.  He works to live.

We take breathing for granted.  Each breath is called a respiration.  We have many during a minute’s time.  In the usual hour, most of us glance at a beautiful sunset, remain focused while driving, or force ourselves to relax.  Seldom do we have to remain mentally alert, focusing ourselves to breathe.

But, when someone is asthmatic, or has a cold or fluid on the lungs they work.  And work hard.  What would normally be focused on the events of the day is now consumed with one event — the next breath.  When your breath is more laboured than usual, panic sets in.  You drown in your attempts to breathe.  The implored statement from panicked onlookers — "breathe" — would be heeded if somewhere in the depths of your soul you could pull back from the precipice just long enough to put your feet on solid ground.

Those who have been around death know the stutter breathing of the last moments.  That final sign that the precipice is winning.  Then there is peace.

At that point, for Christians, the statement — "for me to live is Christ and to die is gain" — becomes a reality.  Thank God for another realm, whose depths we can barely understand in this restless, transitory and panting earth!