Good News

After nearly five years of volunteering for a for-profit hospice organization, I am taking the next step in my path to becoming a hospice chaplain.

Last week, I met with the volunteer director of a local free-standing hospice provider and she invited me to meet with the chaplain about joining the pastoral care team.  I spoke with him on the phone and then met him today . . . and I'm in!  I'll be a volunteer with the pastoral care team, a big step on my way to being a hospice chaplain.  I'll have more information about everything I'll be doing later, but it will run the gambit from visiting, conversation, funerals, even the odd wedding.  Altogether, though, it's about sitting with patients and families to give them space and a listening ear to explore the journey they're on.  I worried that I wouldn't pass muster with a senior chaplain because of my "knowledge gap" in theology (while I have a passing familiarity with various Christian denominations and their differences, I haven't read the whole Bible.  I know most of the stories through art.)  But, even after five years of volunteering elsewhere, I've never had a theological discussion with anyone who was dying; most want to talk about their families, relive memories, even those surrounded by Bibles, Christian hymns, prayer cards, and rosaries.   Closet I've come is singing "Amazing Grace" and reciting the Lord's Prayer.  Still, I know I have a lot to learn and I'm looking forward to companions on my own journey.  And if I'm not cut out for hospice chaplaincy, it's good to know before I go get anoter degree! (Yep, to be a real chaplain--accredited and all--I need a Masters of Divinity.)  If it is the right place for me, well, I'm excited to find that out.

It'll be rigorous, though.  At my initial interview, I was asked if I'd experienced a momentous death.  I never thought losing my dear Aunt Sis would come up in an interview, but I was able to talk about her death--how it was highly medicalized, with hospice only at the end, but that seemed to be her preference.  Of course, then later, my uncle and cousin died.

Then, in a cold call (which I never should have answered, being sick and half asleep on the couch), the chaplain (a Christian) asked me how I had been called to spiritual care.  Of course, I don't think of it as a divine "calling," not being called by anything but my own spirit.  Which I explained, along with my own path to Unitarian Universalism and hospice (Do you know what you call an atheist with children?  Unitarian.  Plus, there are my leanings to Buddhism.  And my own experience with pain and isolation.)  But I should've known that chaplains have seen it all.    These are not the questions I've had on other interviews. But I answered and was honest and it went well.

Still, I was glad to have practiced with Mama the night before--running through questions on strengths (comfort with people from different faiths and backgrounds; I've been told I'm a good listener) and weaknesses (that theology gap! also sometimes a tendency to avoid conflict and confrontation, though I'm better if I'm advocating for a patient.)  Also, what I want from my new organization--a mentor, a community of hospice workers, experience in a facility dedicated to hospice, more skills in sitting with people.  I could talk about my relevant experience--hospice volunteering, lay ministry at church, community service, mindfulness practice, non-violent communication (NVC) training--and my own practices such as Zentangle, Yoga Dance, meditation, reading poetry and history, even crocheting prayer shawls.  And, of course, clarifying my own beliefs--I believe in the inherent worth and dignity of all people, the interconnection of all beings, the importance of a variety of sacred teachers and wisdom sources, each person's responsible search for truth.  Yep, those are the UU principles.  Nothing about heaven, hell, or even God.  I'm focused on the world I know.  I do not know beyond that, though I tend to believe there is a spark of life but no divine plan, no cosmic engineer controlling fate and destinty.  Religions are created by humans to help them understand and cope with the Mystery; as humans are flawed, so are religions.  I don't think we come close to comprehending the world around us (just look at how wrong we've been about margarine!)--there are things we do not understand or can explain--I don't think the Mystery will ever be fully known--though, moments of grace show us glimpses.  So, for me compassion is the guide through our experiences; some call it Love.  And that is what I want to bring to people as they or their loved ones are dying; just as I hope I am surrounded by love, compassion, and family when I die.

And NONE of that came up today!  It was a quick discussion--he was comfortable with me and must have seen something he could work with--and I clean up nicely, in new clothes approrpriate for the place.  So there we go.  I have some HIPPA hoops to jump  through and then I'm on my way.  Soon. (I'll do the TB test and have my photo taken in two weeks; they're also checking references and doing a background check.)  I can't wait.

Last note:  I was meditating yesterday in preparation for today, and came up with the metta meditation I could use with hospice patients (the whole safe-happy-healthy-live in peace progression isn't quite right), or really with anyone:

May all beings know joy.May all beings know hope.May all beings know comfort.May all beings know peace.

Singing Grace

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

--John Newton, "Amazing Grace"


I'm not sure I had ever sung all the verses of "Amazing Grace" before today.  My new hospice patient, who is 95+, was sad and lonely, and so the visiting chaplain and I began to sing.  When we finished, there were tears in our patient's eyes and later she said she'd like more singing.  Thankfully, I'd recently reviewed our family canon so I could come up with some songs--"You are My Sunshine," "Water is Wide."  I'll be even more prepared next time.

Most of the books I've read about hospice talk about how dying is so similar a state to babyhood, in that you are often completely dependent on your caregivers for food, hygiene, comfort, and relatively oblivious to the world beyond your immediate space (i.e. world events and such); many also want company, presence, reassurance, a human voice.  But unlike babies who are touched and talked to, elderly terminally-ill patients are often not coddled in this way. Singing today reminded me of singing to Sis and Bud when they were little; the songs were even the same.  I look forward to going back to visit my patient again soon.

Our Favorite Grace

It is another feature in one of my favorite magazines, Taste of Home, that they solicit favorite graces from readers. Most are heavily into "In Jesus Name We Pray" and don't much appeal to me. But rituals do. And so long before we were even pregnant, I started to think of different rituals and traditions that I wanted to include (I used to give a lecture at the museum in Chicago about rituals and traditions in art and could go into how they are different but will spare you all that here. Not that I can remember . . .). Many of these rituals and traditions came from my childhood, and DP's, such as reading the Christmas story while opening stockings, eating a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving, black eyed peas on New Year's, and ham on Easter, or giving out red envelopes for Chinese New Year. Others are our very own. Like the grace we say at dinner.

We all hold hands and wiggle/dance/sway while singing a verse from Raffi--"All I really need is a song in my heart/food in my belly/and love in my family/All I really need is a song in my heart/Love in my family." Then we high-five. It never happens at the beginning; one of them always suggests it in the middle of the meal. Fine, especially because it's usually by the middle of the meal that we're all sitting and settled anyway. The kids won't do it at other meals because there aren't 4 of us to complete the chain; they want DP there. It's funny because I knew I wanted a way to acknowledge the beginning of the family meal and had researched such things online as well as talking to our minister, but I hadn't picked anything. DP and I laughed about using "we made it through another day," from one of our favorite films, The Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love, but it was a little too grown up for our family right now. The other ideas all sounded hokey and contrived, not us.

And then this ritual happened spontaneously one dinner. I'm not even sure I remember how. We were sitting there having dinner, maybe talking about church and the song we'd quoted for our family's lighting of the chalice and we began to sing. Simple, effortless, good.

All I really need is love in my family . . .