Barefoot Bellringing

Yesterday was an emotional, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of day. It was a day with shifting priorities hour by hour. I made a couple of decisions relating to self-care and that is something that is still very new to me. Listening to my body and responding positively, rather than ignoring my body and paying the price for that.

Dinner last night was awesome. The atmosphere was gorgeous, the crowd was friendly, the food was amazing. And I didn’t have to eat it all. I had a glass of wine, the first glass in weeks. I savoured every bite of my supper and I ate slowly. When I noticed my dining companions finishing their meals, I stopped eating. And felt sated. Thankfully my husband finished what was on my plate so I wouldn’t be tempted to overeat.

The conversation was delightful, the company was terrific and I even decided to indulge in dessert. And I ate the whole thing. We got home and were just letting the dogs out when my cell phone rang.

The parishioner who has been in Palliative Care for the past week had slipped peacefully away. I got changed and headed into the city. When I arrived the family was gathered around his bed and he did look peaceful. He was still warm, so with the families permission I anointed him and we held hands and prayed. We gave thanks to God for his life, we thanked God for the time we had with him. We asked God to continue to support the family during this difficult time and remain with them as they adjust to life without their grandfather/father/in-law/husband.

We then gathered in a quiet room and talked about his celebration of life. Then we emptied the few things that were at the hospital, including a certificate of appreciation for volunteer work he had done in the city. We walked collectively outside to our cars and drove in our respective directions. One grand-daughter was driving grandma home. Her parents were going to meet her there and get grandma settled and then they were going home.

The entire family looked exhausted and relieved that his suffering is now over. The funeral home was called, the dates were set for visitation and funeral and now we wait.

As I was driving home I reflected on the number of times I have made this drive. Thinking about the families who have invited me into their family to comfort and to support. The blessed sacredness of being with someone at the time when they leave this life for the next. And giving thanks to the Creator for the gift of their life.

I had also received news while we were out at dinner that an 84-year-old parishioner had survived open heart surgery and was in recovery. Her recovery was considered amazing, and her daughter-in-law was convinced it was because of the prayers that surrounded her mum. I agreed as well as giving thanks for the skill of the surgeon and the comfort of the Holy Spirit.

On Sunday afternoon we are to have a community event that would have brought three congregations together for a service of story and song with a potluck supper to follow. The initial response was quite positive from all three congregations, but as the event date was chosen, the interest seems to be waning.

Most of the choir from one church won’t be in attendance. Half the choir from my church won’t be attending. None of the choir from the third church will be attending. I’m meeting with a colleague and friend this morning to look over the details of the service, and a still small voice in my is getting louder; telling me to postpone the service until the fall, and concentrate on walking with the community through this period of loss.

Postponing the service would be for mostly selfish motives, as it would save me a great deal of work. And yet I also feel it would be honouring the family of the man who has just died.

An executive decision will be reached this morning and we will go from there. I know in my heart where I’m leaning. And if my colleague still wants to do it, we will. And it will be what it will be. I’m too tired to be concerned about what happens next, I’ve got many other things on my mind.

And so today will be compartmentalised with a box for celebration, a box for mourning, a box for administration, a box for housework, a box for motherhood and a box for wifedom. And with the sure and certain hope of the resurrection, there will be an afternoon nap or a very early bedtime for me.

Tomorrow is a day off for me. And I believe it will be able to honour that. Going to spend some time with myself tomorrow, and do a few fun things. The rest can and will wait.