Hospice Chaplain Weeks

Yesterday afternoon, my spouse and I floated around the pool on our sitting up floats, like our own private, lazy river at the waterpark, ride.  I should have been happy, and part of me was.  Part of me was overwhelmed by a rush of sadness.

I thought about the last time we floated in the pool, that last  Friday morning of March, the first day of the visit of my sister and nephew.  I love the first day of a visit.  It's that luxurious time, when it feels like everything is possible.  Yesterday, I felt some sadness that our great visit was over.

It's the first time I felt that sorrow; you might ask why, and the answer is also part of my sadness yesterday.

A week ago, I got to work feeling good about the week-end we'd just had.  Any sadness about the visit being over was delayed by the immersion back into the world of work.  There were puzzling e-mail messages:  several about a renewed enforcement of the dress code and several about a Monday morning meeting.  I foolishly thought we were meeting about the dress code.

No, we had news of more lay-offs, effective immediately.  We lost 2 faculty members, a student financial services person, and our associate dean. On Monday afternoon, I had a visit from a department member who attended the funeral of a good friend and decided to re-order his life; he asked me to see if I could find someone else to teach his class, so that he could go to help his family with their burgeoning goat herd up on the family land in the panhandle of Florida. 

We spent the rest of the week scrambling to get classes covered and to develop procedures for doing some of the things our associate dean did.  In addition, our registrar left us to start a new career as a police officer; our associate dean was going to help with some of those processes, but we needed a new plan after Monday morning.

It was a week full of Beckettian strangeness.  We had a training session where we had not one, but two people have trouble logging onto an essential computer account.  We had additional clarifications of the newly enforced dress code.  A colleague said, "One person has left us to be a cop and one has left us to be a goat herder.  What does that say?"  I decided to treat his question as rhetorical.

It was a week where I am reminded that the universe may be granting me an earlier wish to be a hospice chaplain.  I sat with people who are grieving losses.  Unlike a real hospice chaplain, however, I was unable to offer them much in the way of comfort.

This will be another week where I need my hospice chaplain skills, such as they are.  Many faculty members will be returning to this difficult news that I've had a week to let settle in my brain.  We also had the death of our former colleague on Friday.  We have much to grieve.

And as with grieving people everywhere, there is the fear that more loss waits for us just around the corner.

Let me though remind myself that it was also a week of good news, some of which I may write more about in the weeks to come.  It was a week of getting some major projects finished.  It was a week where although we lost one colleague, my best friend who battles esophageal cancer survives to fight another week.  It was a week of a beautiful concert and a great book about poets and faith.  It was a week where my students turned in papers that were overwhelmingly well written.  It was a week where I was reminded that I'm surrounded by humans who are trying to do the best that they can.  It was a week where I remembered to say please and thank you, as did most people I know.  It was a week full of reminders of grace and gratitude.

Requiem and Renewal

Yesterday started off with a meditation on the loss of a colleague and the fear of losing others.  It ended with a great concert, selections from Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor, and other great pieces.

I spent part of the afternoon working on taxes.  I rarely wait this long, but I've rarely had a tax year this complicated:  selling a house, buying a house, selling stocks, and the vagaries/complications of the fact that both my spouse and I have self-employed income, along with the income from my regular job.  But the real reason I waited was that I needed one last document, and by the time it came, I was travelling to visit my sick friend/former housemate and then my sister and nephew came.

I finished the taxes and thought about the tax package as art form.  I fully meant to do something creative or to go to the contemplative service at my church, but instead, I fell into a deep, satisfying sleep.  I haven't taken a nap in eons.

I was glad that I did because I enjoyed the concert more thoroughly than I would have otherwise.  Some times I go to events at night only to find myself fighting fatigue.

My spouse who sings in the Chorale had to arrive early, so I had some time on the Broward College campus before the concert started.  I walked to the library, but it was closed.  I thought it would be, so I brought a book with me.  I'm still making my way through A God in the House:  Poets Talk about Faith--what a wonderful book.  I read two essays, and then it was time to walk back to the concert hall.

But first, I walked towards a better view of the sunset--and I found myself on the satellite campus of Florida Atlantic University--not a surprise, since the campuses are so integrated.  I used to teach upper level classes to undergraduate English majors at that campus, back in the early years of this century, back when there were 2 buildings on the site.

I walked back to the concert hall and thought about the first time I was on the Central Campus of Broward College, back when it was still Broward Community College, when I was there for new faculty orientation.  I had lucked into a position as a one year, full-time faculty member at the South campus.

I walked and thought about the strange turns life takes.  I thought about the husband of my colleague who must have been enduring one of the worst days of his life.  I thought about the life partner of my high school friend/former housemate who must be wrestling with the fear of having to endure such a day.  I thought about how lucky I am to have a lovely evening and a good book.

Perhaps it was that musing that put me in the frame of mind to be patient with the 8 guys who crowded into the row of seats behind me.  Some of them whipped out devices to start playing games, while some of them watched.  I heard things like, "Not the sword!  You should use the bat to get rid of that one."  Two of them had bouquets of flowers.  I wondered which performers would receive them.

Luckily, everyone quieted down as the concert started.  I found the Requiem pieces quite moving, so suitable for my Ash Wednesday, ashes and dust, mood that I've been in.  I was glad that the concert ended with more upbeat pieces, including the piece which has made it into Lutheran hymnbooks as "We Are Walking in the Light of God."  I was grateful for the reminder that resurrection will come, even if I don't see the results or understand the process.

As always, I'm stunned by what the director of the Chorale can do.  He's got a day choir and an evening choir.  They've been practicing a few hours a week since January.  The director transformed them into a stunning group.  It's a good reminder of what can be accomplished, even if we only have a few hours a week, even if we have ordinary resources.  It's the practice that makes the transformation--another good reminder.

Today I have friends coming over for a back yard cook out.  We will mourn the transformations of the past week, but we will also celebrate the ability to be together.  We are not dead.  We can celebrate a good burger while thinking about where to go from here.

Cat Rocco, Gone Too Soon

You may remember that I've written about my colleague at work who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer; actually, she hasn't taught at my school in awhile, but she continued to feel like a colleague.  And this colleague is not my high school friend and former housemate who is battling esophageal cancer.

Yesterday my colleague battling pancreatic cancer died.  It seemed sudden, some 2 months after diagnosis.  I know that's often the trajectory with pancreatic cancer, and I know that a death shortly after diagnosis can be a mercy of sorts.  Everything I've heard and read about pancreatic cancer talks about the painful nature of this type of cancer.

I have always tried to be careful about using specific names of people and/or pictures of people on this blog.  It feels like a more public space than Facebook.  But now, it feels appropriate to name my colleague:  Cat Rocco died yesterday. 

I don't have many pictures of Cat.  I did write about her in this post that talks about the moving art gallery she created, a sort of flash mob to call attention to a gallery and tattoo studio that some of our alumni students created in Dania Beach.  That post has pictures of her studio.

Let me go back to my files to see if I have any other pictures that should be included this morning.

Jackpot!  Cat Rocco is the woman on the far left in the above picture, the woman standing, the woman with the long dark hair.  The woman standing beside her is also a colleague and teacher; she's the one who invites me to Girls' Club Gallery with her students, the trips which bring me joy.

The above picture also gives you a sense of Cat's studio and her art, which you can see surrounding everyone.

The above picture is one of my favorites from her studio.  For years, she held open studio nights on Friday nights.  People would gather to discuss art, create, and eat delicious food that she made.  When it was clear that she would not survive this disease, she invited people to her studio to help themselves to her supplies.  That sums her up:  generous through and through.

Let me also pay tribute to her ability as a teacher.  She was one of those teachers who was beloved by almost every student.  She loved to share her passion for art with students--and with everyone, really.

We will all miss her immensely.  But we were lucky to know her.

To honor her, today and every day we should all create some art in whatever form pleases us most.  It's what she would have wanted.

Poetry Friday: The Ides of April

On this day decades ago, Martin Luther King was shot.  April seems to be a month of all sorts of grim anniversaries:  the Oklahoma City bombing, numerous school shootings (most notably Columbine and Virginia Tech), Hitler's birthday.  And we often celebrate religious holidays in April, most notably in my brain Easter and Passover.

The weather in April can be violent too.  I had all these images swirling in my brain when I wrote the following poem:


The Ides of April



Mid April, when bills come due and debts
must be paid. Both winter and summer battle
for dominance and rip the landscape
with tornadoes and late spring snows.

Good battles evil, captives set free
by way of forced and bloody frenzies. Refugees
driven from their homes trudge down dusty
roads towards a desert destiny of freedom.

A gospel of radical love battles entrenched
orthodoxy. We must sacrifice our lust
for structure and rules, our yearning
for punishment. We must arc our minds
towards grace and unconquered redemption.

We must be as flowers who battle
against the frozen ground, who thrust
themselves towards a distant sun
in the hope of a future warmth,
a profuse explosion of fiery blooms.

The Same Labyrinth Twice

Sometimes we might feel like we're walking in a maze--we may worry that we'll be lost in the thickets and brambles forever. 

But we must have faith that we're not in a maze but a labyrinth.  The way may not always be clear, but if we put one foot in front of the other, step by step, we'll make our way.

And then, we'll reach the middle.  We can rest.  We can say a prayer of thanks.

 

And then it's time to make our way out again.  The path may seem familiar.  Indeed, it is. 

The old saying has it that we can never step in the same river twice.  Can we walk through the same labyrinth twice?

 

 

I posted the above photo essay on my spirituality blog, but it fits equally well here.  It adequately describes my spiritual life this morning, as well as my creative life and my work life.  Today I'm feeling lost in the brambles, but I'll continue to have faith that footstep by footstep, I will make my way on the path.

 

And for those of you who are interested, this labyrinth is at Mepkin Abbey.

Oracles and Prayers

It is National Poetry Month, but I almost didn't notice the opening day until it was almost too late.  I was catching up on blog comments, where Kathleen wished me a happy National Poetry Month.  And then, this morning, I read Rachel's post; she's examining the intersection between the idea of writing a poem a day and a different movement to get ready for Passover that asks people to write (or just read?) a blog post a day that addresses the book of Exodus.

Her post referred to the Bibliomancy Oracle.  I'm game, at least when games are free and don't look like they'll suck all my free time away.

I decided not to ask a specific question.  I just wanted general insight and wisdom.  Here's the quote I got:

"Some people are making their way through the catastrophic jungle

List for me the ways again"
*
from “Sorrow Arrow” by Emily Kendal Frey 

Why, yes, a catastrophic jungle--so far, that phrase provides a wonderful symbol for a large part of this year so far.  After hard work news on Monday, someone asked me, "How are you doing?"

I said, "I'm afraid this year is going to be spectacularly bad."

It seems unfair--I just had a bad year in 2012.  But it's important to remember that even bad years hold times of grace.  I lost my job in 2012, but I was rehired into a new position at the same school.  In 2005, a truly spectacularly bad year, I had a great trip to France with my parents.

Let me focus on what I can change.  I will not be writing a poem a day; my April will not support that.  But I will be sending my revised poetry manuscript to Copper Canyon Press; they're accepting manuscripts until May 1.  However, they reserve the right to stop accepting submissions once they feel they've seen enough, so let me be ready to send my manuscript in by Friday.  Yes.  I will celebrate National Poetry Month this way.

Let me imagine the possible ways out of the catastrophic jungle:

--my poetry manuscript accepted for publication by one of my dream publishers.  Copper Canyon Press is one of those publishers.

--my best friend beats the odds and survives esophageal cancer.

--the people most in need find dream jobs that must be out there.

--I finish my memoir manuscript, which finds all sorts of audiences, which in turn opens doors unseen right now.

--my writer friends find the successes they need.

--we have a calm hurricane season (please let this one happen year after year, decade after decade).

I could go on and on, but let me not be greedy.  Let us all find what we need, and restore us all to health--that would be my prayer for the year.  It's a good one--maybe it will be my prayer for life.

Week-end Wrap Up

I could write about the fact that I have to go to the dentist this morning, but who wants to dwell on that?  I could write about the latest angst from the workplace, but there will be plenty of time to explore that drama later.  I could explore my fears of being a little old lady left all alone in the world as friends have died decades earlier.  My laptop is doing a strange relaunching thing when I try to click on the desktop tile in Microsoft 8, but I'm deeply weary of trying to fix that. 

No, this morning I want to record a few more highlights from the visit from my sister and nephew. 

--We enjoyed treats from the grill:  bacon every morning!  Clams one afternoon and hamburgers the next.

--We went back to the beach, and my nephew swam in the Atlantic without a PFD for the first time.

--The ice cream truck came by when we were walking to the beach.  From my nephew's expressions of joy, you'd have thought that Santa himself was arriving.

--My kitchen still looks like an elementary school kid lives here:  there are cheese sticks in the fridge and hot dogs, and gold fish crackers and chips in individual serving bags in the pantry.  For lunch yesterday, my spouse ate a remaining Lunchable.

--We made additional karate sashes.  I was happy that the sewing machine made it simple.  I was touched by our nephew's confidence that we could accomplish this feat.

--We learned to play Minecraft, my nephew's latest obsession.

--We taught him to play Skip-Bo, which he loved.

--When my sister and I went to Publix to get groceries, a cashier asked if we were twins.  My sister posted our picture to Facebook and got a similar response.  Since I've always seen her as the prettier, thinner, younger one, I was thrilled to get that question.

--I was able to make decisions about airline tickets at good prices to see his first Communion.  Hurrah!

--My nephew says he'd like to live here "362 days a year." 

--I felt the happiness of my swimming pool--finally getting attention after a quiet winter.  My nephew was in the pool multiple times a day, which made him happy too.

--I do wish we lived closer to each other, but I'm grateful that we're still an easy plane ride away.