Don't say "Goodbye"...

The priest and I again visited Minnie who had just been moved to another hospice care facility. She was getting much weaker but she purposely forced herself to sit up in the bed because she wanted to be anointed again and to receive Communion.

Because Minnie was so weak, I suggested that the priest do only what was necessary for the rite, rather than every prescribed prayer. She was able to receive Communion and, I know, she was grateful that we had come.

As we were getting ready to leave and were saying our goodbyes, Minnie spoke up and in no uncertain terms, reminded us: "Don't say goodbye... say, See you later!"

Minnie died two days later...

See you later, my precious friend... when we all meet at the throne of mercy... May you rest in peace in the arms of our loving Father.

The end of days...

I am very very tired tonight... I have had a busy day.

This afternoon, I received an email from our parish secretary alerting us that Minnie was back in the hospital and not doing well. Also, that one of our elderly parishioners had had a stroke and was in the local VA hospital in the hospice unit.

Minnie is my friend who has recently been diagnosed with metastatic cancer... I had been bringing Communion to her since an earlier hospitalization. I had not been able to get in touch with her for the last week and didn't know what was going on. Minnie is one of our Wednesday evening Mass participants and has been the one to set up for the Mass ever since I realized how much she wanted to do this herself. So I stepped aside and set up the lectionary instead...

After I read the email, I called the parish office to speak to our priest. I asked if he was planning to visit these two parishioners this afternoon because family members had asked for him. I wanted to go with him. So we agreed on a time. Our priest is one of our foreign priests and is happy to have someone accompany him on these visits.

The hospital where Minnie had been admitted is a large complex of hospitals and requires a lot of walking and directions on how to go from one place to another. There are even slips of paper with directions to help people find their way. When we arrived at her room, Minnie was awake but a little confused in talking to us... She has had many tests and lots of bad news.

Our priest anointed her and gave her Communion... Because she is dear to me, I asked to say a short prayer too. Her son had just come in to be with her and he eventually walked us through the maze of corridors on our way out. He told us how serious her cancer is. I hope she will eventually be able to return home... but only God know if that will be possible.

Our next visit was to our elderly gentleman parishioner who had been admitted to the local VA hospital with a stroke. This hospital is garden style and it felt like we had to walk a mile through another maze of corridors before we arrived in the hospice section. Fortunately, a volunteer led us to our destination. Our parishioner was alone and either asleep or in a coma... the nurses could not give us any information about him since no family members were present. One of the nurses tried to arouse him but was not able. He may have been sedated... Anyway, our priest also tried to rouse him but I suggested that he simply anoint him and I left a note to his family that we had visited and that the priest had anointed him.

We finally returned to the rectory in time for our Wednesday evening Mass and I took over once again, the setting up that Minnie had always loved to do. I wonder if she will ever be able to return...

Heavenly Father, if it is your will, bring healing of mind, body and spirit to your daughter, Minnie and to your son, George.

It's been that kind of a week...

Yes, it's been that kind of week. You know how it goes: where you have a long list of things you want to accomplish and at the end of the week, the list hasn't gotten much shorter. In fact, as the week goes on, you remember even more things that belong there, so the list gets added to several times.

One very heartening thing happened at Mass this morning. One of the choir members turned around to me and said very quietly, "Boo said to tell you that you can bring him Communion any time." Boo is her husband and a former long time member of the choir. He had to retire from the choir a couple years ago because of severe emphysema and he is on oxygen. He very seldom can come to Mass anymore because it is too much of a hardship for him.

Boo is a person who wants only the priest to come to bring him Communion. Our previous priest apparently visited him from time to time. Unfortunately, our present priest is not cut from the same cloth. But since Boo wishes to receive Communion more regularly, he has now asked his wife to tell me that I can do this for him. This is a big step for Boo and I was taken by surprise at his wife's request because I know his preference for the priest. It's a pity, isn't it? But I am grateful for this opportunity... God is good...

Joy! Joy! Unspeakable Joy!

"Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God." (Teilhard de Chardin)


Such a moment occurred last Sunday at a nursing home where one of our elderly parishioners suffering from dementia was being cared for.

Many years ago, Gertrude and I would go together to bring Communion to our shut-in parishioners. She was a painfully shy woman who could not bring herself to go alone but wanted very much to participate in this ministry. Gertrude loved to help the sick and for many years, she nursed people in their homes.

As the years passed, Gertrude herself became homebound and slowly became a victim of dementia. I visited her many times to bring her Communion.

About two years ago, my visits ceased when Gertrude was placed in a nursing home. One of our other parishioners had been visiting her and she continued to do so at the several nursing homes Gertrude was moved in and out of. I could no longer keep track of her because I now had others I was visiting.

We now have a new pastor. One of the things we wanted to do was to introduce him to our shut-ins. This we have begun doing.

However, before taking our priest to visit Gertrude, I wanted to visit her myself to see how she was and to determine whether or not she could receive Communion. Rosemary, who had now visited her many times, thought that Gertrude could no longer understand what the Sacrament was about. That her dementia was too far advanced. So, we arranged a Sunday after Mass when I could accompany Rosemary and another parishioner to visit Gertrude.

We arrived at the nursing home and waited in the parlor until the nurse brought Gertrude to us in her wheelchair. I did not think she would remember me after so long a time, so I said very little.

Rosemary and Mieko sat on either side of Gertrude and were talking to her and showing her the Christmas gift they had brought. Gertrude recognized them. Suddenly she looked over to me; and with a look of incredible joy lighting up her face, she recognized me. I was absolutely overwhelmed... She wouldn't stop looking at me and she wouldn't stop smiling. I went over to her and tenderly stroked her hair as my tears fell. She held out her hand to me and spoke my name several times. Most of her words are now incoherent but she tried hard to communicate with us.

I was so moved because I recognized that this moment was a sacred one for Gertrude and for us who witnessed it. I thank God for this gift.

Even though she cannot speak coherently, she understood what we were saying. I told her the next time I came to visit, I would bring our priest with me. Again, her face broke out in a smile. If we had brought Communion to her that day, she could have received it and understood.

There's a lesson here. We simply don't know what an impact simple actions on our part can have on another person. All those times that Gertrude and I visited the sick together must have meant much more to her than I could ever have guessed.

The joy that God's presence brings was surely in that room with us that day.


Photo by Mieko via IPhone during our visit with Gertrude.

The End of Life as we know it ~ Part 3

For my friend, Doris T_ _ _ , who asked me to speak at her funeral...


I visited Doris soon after her serious bout with pneumonia, a couple of months ago. She had an important favor she wished of me.

"What would you like for me to do?"

And Doris said: "At my funeral, I want you to comfort my family and tell them about me."

****************************************

My dear loved ones... Henry, Robin, Tiffany, Mother, Nana girls, sister and brother, other family members and friends. I am truly aware that YOU are the ones who knew Doris best of all...

I think what Doris wanted me to do was to tell you what I understood about her experience of our Heavenly Father and the beauty I found in her heart and soul because she allowed me to see it.

I am the one she entrusted to bring her Holy Communion from this, her beloved parish church, during the times she was unable to attend our services.

It all began two years ago when my pastor told me to expect a call from Doris T_ _ _ , a parishioner I barely knew. Doris told me later that she knew me only as a choir member and a lector but she apparently trusted our pastor's judgement that her desire for privacy about her illness would be safe with me. Anyway, Doris called me and asked me to visit her and to bring her Holy Communion, which she very much desired.

During that first visit, we discovered that our personalities were well matched and our reactions to our life experiences were quite similar. Thus our friendship began.

Doris would phone me when she was ready for another visit... Each time I visited her, we would catch up on what had occurred in our lives since the last visit. Doris was very perceptive and would realize immediately if something was troubling me. Sometimes, Fr. _ _ _ and I visited her together, but most of the time, I visited her alone. Though not really alone for I carried the Body of Christ with me.

Anyway, all of the joys and concerns that we had just shared during the visit became part of the prayer we offered to God in petition and thanksgiving as she prepared to receive Him.

Those moments when Doris received the Body of Christ were holy and tender moments of communion with "her Jesus." Afterwards, I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for the Gift she had just received and she sometimes added her own prayer to mine.

My dear loved ones, Doris loved the Lord and she knew where her strength and courage would come from. She had a great yearning and desire to be united with Him through receiving the Body and Blood of Christ during Mass. When she was unable to attend Mass because of her illness, she still was able to satisfy that longing and receive Him at home.

I believe this is what she wanted me to share with you.

As for myself, I want to tell you what a privilege and honor it has been for me to be allowed to accompany Doris on that part of her journey. You know I loved her with all my heart and I know she loved me too.

In loving memory...

Considering the end of Life as we know it...

"I want you to do something for me," said my friend. She had just finished receiving "the Body of Christ" from me and we had prayed our words of thanksgiving for this wonderful gift.

We were in her room at a rehab center near my home. I was coming straight from Sunday Mass to bring her Holy Communion. She was and is hungry for her Jesus and wants me to come to her whenever I can. She is a woman of deep faith, strength and courage, and I love her... She has become like a sister to me. And the feeling is mutual.

"At my funeral, I want you to say some words of consolation to my family. I want you to tell them about me," she continued. This is the first time she has spoken to me about her death.

"Yes, I will do that for you..." I said.

It only took a moment for me to make up my mind... This was no time to give false hope when we both knew that her illness was severe. I had been with our priest when he anointed her during a recent hospitalization. She was in a coma and the doctors had told her family that they could do no more. She had recovered from pneumonia that time and now, if she can get strong enough with physical therapy, she can go home. But only a miracle can cure her cancer at this end stage.

- - - - - - - - -

I began visiting my friend to bring her Holy Communion about two years ago. She called me one day at the recommendation of our priest and asked if I would visit her. Though my parish is small and I knew who she was, I had not really spoken to her other than a nod or a "hello"... She knew me only as a choir member and a lector.

She had just been diagnosed with a virulent form of cancer and would not be able to come to Mass for awhile because of the aggressive treatment. I had not even noticed that she was missing from the congregation and no one else in the parish except for our priest and her godmother even knew that she was ill. My friend is a very private person. It was not until this last hospitalization that parishioners learned of her illness and could pray for her by name.

I visited her soon after her initial phone call and we connected right away; and so our friendship began. We have marveled many times how God works in bringing people together. How our priest had happened to select the right person for her, and for me too.

- - - - - - - -

I am really honored to be asked to speak at her funeral and I will tell her story of grace, courage and love.

My friend is preparing herself to leave this world and to enter the next. She is indeed fortunate to be able to do that. Think of how many people are taken in an instant...

But all hope has not been lost for her; for only God knows what He has in store for her. The prayer I said for her after she had received her Jesus, was that God would give her the grace to surrender her life to Him for whatever purpose He had for her. Amen.

In My Hands

Something quite beautiful happened today. My priest and I were planning to visit a parishioner this morning to bring her Jesus. I had just placed a Host in my pyx when my priest came into the church. I was getting ready to hand him my pyx when he said that he had come to tell me that he was ill with a fever and could not visit our parishioner. I was holding the pyx in my hand.

I had something that I wanted to speak to my priest about and asked him if we could talk for a few minutes before I left to take Jesus to our friend. He agreed. I was holding the pyx in my hand...

We talked for several minutes. As I was listening to him, I was very moved by what he was saying. I was thinking to myself, "This is truly a holy priest." I was really grateful to be his friend. I thought these things as I was holding the pyx in my hand.

As we finished our conversation, I had a strong desire to receive a blessing from him... something I had never asked of him before.

"Before I leave, would you give me your blessing?"

"No," said my priest. "You don't need my blessing... You are holding the Blessed Sacrament in your hands..."