In an old Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, the two have the following conversation. Calvin says to Hobbes: "Live for the moment is my motto. You never know how long you've got." He goes on to explain: "You could step into the road tomorrow and WHAM, you get hit by a cement truck! Then you'd be sorry you put off your pleasures. That's what I say, live for the moment." Then he asks Hobbes, "What's your motto?" Hobbes replies: "My motto is look down the road."
In looking down the road in 2010, I don't see myself continuing this blog. I'm pretty sure those who encouraged me in the beginning have moved on to other things. Plus, I'd hoped for comments and dialogue which haven't happened. So, I think it's time to pull the plug.
I very much needed to do this right after I retired and I'm glad I did it. It was rarely a chore and often fun. Thanks to those who encouraged me and read my musings. If you think plug pulling is not in order, you can email me at jerry.harber@gmail.com and we'll see. Otherwise: it's been fun.
Peace,
Jerry+
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Life and Death
Yesterday, my wife's family made the decision to remove her dad from a ventilator. He's been declining since having broken his hip. For weeks, he's been on oxygen and the last several days on the vent. When we got to the hospital yesterday after church, his doctor told us he doubted Charles, 87, would last through the night. The family decided to not keep him alive artificially.
We'd agreed that everybody could be at the hospital by 4:00--many live in Arkansas--and that would be our target time. It actually ended up being 4:30 when we all left the room and the staff began disconnecting him from his various tubes and removed the vent tube. Within five minutes, we were all back, not knowing if Charles would last a few minutes, a few hours, or even a day or more.
For the first time in over two weeks, he was able to open his eyes. He couldn't speak, but I could see him looking deeply into the eyes of his wife of over 60 years . He stared for what seemed to be five minutes as if he was aware she was there looking back. It was a beautiful moment. Then his gaze drifted and his eyes closed. We watched the monitor that showed his respiration rate, his heart rate and his oxygen level in his blood. They all began a slow descent. At 5:15, they showed zero and nothing but flat lines appeared on the monitor. Charles was gone. His last moments had been peaceful as we had prayed they would be.
Slowly we drifted from his bedside and prepared to leave the hospital for the last time. As we gathered in the lobby later, someone said, "I'm hungry. Let's all go somewhere." So three generations of survivors headed out in search of food. Half an hour later, we were sitting together at a long table at a local restaurant. The conversation was light-hearted for the most part. There is no weeping. No reminiscing. Just banter as we ate so we could go on living.
I have experienced the death of my grandfather, my father, my mother and both my two brothers. One of my brothers died in his home, to be discovered later. But, my grandfather died in our home. My father, mother and older brother in hospitals. Watching Charles decline over the past several weeks has brought back a lot of memories. I watched my grandfather, my parents and my brother, decline with death approaching and inevitable. All those memories were stirred up. My sympathy for my wife and her family, my sadness at Charles' passing, were all bound up in my own reexperienced pain.
At my age, the death of others close to you offers an opportunity to project into the future, too. I know that the day will come, probably within in the next 20 years, when my family will be gathered at my bedside, perhaps making hard decisions. I don't mean to sound morbid about it, but I am very aware today of my mortality.
Still, life goes on. We will experience the pain of the funeral and burial later this week, but in the meantime and afterwards, life will go on. We all have to make the most of it. That's what I've been thinking.
Peace,
Jerry+
We'd agreed that everybody could be at the hospital by 4:00--many live in Arkansas--and that would be our target time. It actually ended up being 4:30 when we all left the room and the staff began disconnecting him from his various tubes and removed the vent tube. Within five minutes, we were all back, not knowing if Charles would last a few minutes, a few hours, or even a day or more.
For the first time in over two weeks, he was able to open his eyes. He couldn't speak, but I could see him looking deeply into the eyes of his wife of over 60 years . He stared for what seemed to be five minutes as if he was aware she was there looking back. It was a beautiful moment. Then his gaze drifted and his eyes closed. We watched the monitor that showed his respiration rate, his heart rate and his oxygen level in his blood. They all began a slow descent. At 5:15, they showed zero and nothing but flat lines appeared on the monitor. Charles was gone. His last moments had been peaceful as we had prayed they would be.
Slowly we drifted from his bedside and prepared to leave the hospital for the last time. As we gathered in the lobby later, someone said, "I'm hungry. Let's all go somewhere." So three generations of survivors headed out in search of food. Half an hour later, we were sitting together at a long table at a local restaurant. The conversation was light-hearted for the most part. There is no weeping. No reminiscing. Just banter as we ate so we could go on living.
I have experienced the death of my grandfather, my father, my mother and both my two brothers. One of my brothers died in his home, to be discovered later. But, my grandfather died in our home. My father, mother and older brother in hospitals. Watching Charles decline over the past several weeks has brought back a lot of memories. I watched my grandfather, my parents and my brother, decline with death approaching and inevitable. All those memories were stirred up. My sympathy for my wife and her family, my sadness at Charles' passing, were all bound up in my own reexperienced pain.
At my age, the death of others close to you offers an opportunity to project into the future, too. I know that the day will come, probably within in the next 20 years, when my family will be gathered at my bedside, perhaps making hard decisions. I don't mean to sound morbid about it, but I am very aware today of my mortality.
Still, life goes on. We will experience the pain of the funeral and burial later this week, but in the meantime and afterwards, life will go on. We all have to make the most of it. That's what I've been thinking.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
All Saints
This past Sunday was All Saints Day. The day entered the Christian calendar in an odd fashion. Beginning with the persecutions in the early centuries of the Church, many who were killed for their faith were dubbed "saints." In the beginning, local communities might begin to venerate a local saint. They might also build a church on or near the site of his/her martyrdom or obtain a relic belonging to the saint for an existing church. These individual saints might well be recognized nowhere but in their original community.
As Christianity grew and the need for more order and organization was felt, many of these local saints were accepted by the whole Church as someone who represented the best of the faith. A day was set aside to remember them with a feast and a special Eucharist. Soon, the calendar began to fill with saints and by the 1500s there were as many as 70 or 80 feast days a year! (That's about one a week, which could really cut into production since feast days were holidays. How this got dealt with is another story though.)
Even so, religious leaders began to be concerned about saints who might never have been recognized for various reasons. To remedy the situation, a day was set aside to remember all the rest of the saint, especially those without a "day", and that day of recognition became All Saints Day.
Human beings being what they are, some were perplexed that not everyone was being prayed for who had died, so the day after All Saints Day was designated All Soul's Day so the Church could pray for all souls who had died in the faith, no matter what the circumstances. Most churches just do this remembering on All Saints Day and don't celebrate All Soul's Day. Thinking, I suppose, "enough is enough."
Like all good things, it's easy to let this good thing of remembering take on a life of its own. Or worse, just ignore the "saints." Even taking into account the exaggerated "lives" of some of the saints, especially the earlier ones, we would do well to learn from them and the sacrifices many of them made. A study of the lives of saints, once a very popular devotion, might be helpful again. At least, that's what I've been thinking. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
As Christianity grew and the need for more order and organization was felt, many of these local saints were accepted by the whole Church as someone who represented the best of the faith. A day was set aside to remember them with a feast and a special Eucharist. Soon, the calendar began to fill with saints and by the 1500s there were as many as 70 or 80 feast days a year! (That's about one a week, which could really cut into production since feast days were holidays. How this got dealt with is another story though.)
Even so, religious leaders began to be concerned about saints who might never have been recognized for various reasons. To remedy the situation, a day was set aside to remember all the rest of the saint, especially those without a "day", and that day of recognition became All Saints Day.
Human beings being what they are, some were perplexed that not everyone was being prayed for who had died, so the day after All Saints Day was designated All Soul's Day so the Church could pray for all souls who had died in the faith, no matter what the circumstances. Most churches just do this remembering on All Saints Day and don't celebrate All Soul's Day. Thinking, I suppose, "enough is enough."
Like all good things, it's easy to let this good thing of remembering take on a life of its own. Or worse, just ignore the "saints." Even taking into account the exaggerated "lives" of some of the saints, especially the earlier ones, we would do well to learn from them and the sacrifices many of them made. A study of the lives of saints, once a very popular devotion, might be helpful again. At least, that's what I've been thinking. What about you?
Peace,
Jerry+
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
