Friday, February 26, 2010

A Most Unusual Sabbath Moment



I continue to struggle, obviously, with my commitment to write every day in my journal and regularly on this blog. I still am not quite sure why. I do believe I am having trouble managing all my email and my addiction to information on Facebook and other blogs. That may be more excuse, or symptom, rather than actual issue, but that is where my thinking is moving right now.

I did have a reflection that grew out of a rather unique "sabbath" moment. I will share part of the reflection and then maybe add some more comments afterward. This is what I wrote one night back in January while I was on-call for VITAS Hospice and attending a death.

So I'm sitting in a patient's room in a nursing home, waiting for the funeral home to come and transport her body. On the wall facing her bed, in this otherwise very cold and sterile environment, is a small print of Seurat's "La Grande Jatte." It is a rather interesting painting hanging in a strange setting, so that I find it rather absurd. The painting is full of life, though somewhat surreal due to the pointillism style of design and due to the strange aura of underlying horror, sadness, uncomfortable feeling that pervades what, on the surface appears as a happy painting about people enjoying a bright day in a park. Having thought about it, perhaps it is a most appropriate print for a place where there is horror, sadness, and great discomfort being lived out every day in a facility that makes only a token effort to mask the horrible reality of people aging and dying without the presence of real love and often in great loneliness.

I always think of my son, Paul, when I see that painting. It is one of his favorite pieces of art. I called him in Salt Lake City (actually I texted him and then he called me back) to share my experience with him of seeing this print in this surreal setting. We had a very good conversation. He has clearly begun a new life for himself in Salt Lake City. His family, me included, clearly wants to still take care of him and cushion him from the harsh realities of the world. But I am growing to believe that he needs to find his own way in the world - even if it means taking some lumps along the way. I know he has a good foundation we gave to him. I know he is a smart young man and I truly believe he knows we are there for him. I trust him to himself and the arms of God and know he will be OK.

I do not often have a chance while I am working for VITAS to spend time in reflection and in jotting down some of those thoughts. Usually on a death visit I am very focused on family members present and helping them begin to cope with their grief over the loss of their loved one, as well as handle the details of calling the funeral home, dispose of the controlled medications in sent to the patient, and fill out the paper work to document the death and what I have done.

But in this case, there was no family present. Family was notified but chose not to come to the nursing home. There was no staff present, they were off handling other patients. So it was just me alone, with the dead patient, and my thoughts. It turned out to be a very positive and helpful "sabbath" time for reflection about life, death, and my relationship with my son.

What I learned out of the experience was to be alert for those moments of "mini-sabbath" opportunities that occur along the way. They are most irregular. They often come out of the blue, usually when you are not really looking for them. But they can be very powerful, both in terms of nurturing my soul, my spiritual life, but also in terms of nurturing my heart and mind. They can bring a refreshing sense of mental and emotional renewal, as well as spiritual renewal. A new step in the dance of Sabbath Tango!

The pictures are from the Art Institute in Chicago, the Seurat painting "La Grande Jatte." The larger picture is the whole piece. The closer view of the little girl in the middle begins to illustrate some of the underlying unsettling feelings in the picture.