Guest Post by Mim Jacobson

Jun25

Today is June 24, 2021. It is two weeks ago today that I had the second of my two surgeries within one week. The first was Sunday, June 6, an emergency appendectomy that began with a slight fever about 3:00 a.m. I took Tylenol and set the alarm for 5:30 a.m. to make asparagus strata that needed to be refrigerated for several hours. We planned on having a friend over for brunch and Marian would pick her up after playing organ at the Presbyterian church. After Marian left for church I began to have chills and was shaking so much I could hardly take my temp – it was somewhere between 101 – 103, so I took Tylenol, put on a jacket and blanket, and finally fell asleep. I left a message on Marian’s cell phone that she should come home right after church and not go to pick up our friend for brunch as planned. By noon we were on our way to the ER for my first visit ever as a patient. They confirmed what I suspected (I’d left my jewelry at home and had not eaten). By 4:00 p.m. I was having an appendectomy and the next morning was ready to go home.

All went well until Tuesday afternoon. I had taken two Tylenol at 4:00 p.m. (that was my scheduled pain med), and at 4:45 p.m. I felt like I was getting a fever. Took my temp. It was 101.2. I called the surgery clinic per instructions that had been sent home with me from the hospital, and was advised to come to the ER. I resisted going, called a nurse friend to discuss whether or not I should go to the ER, took a tepid shower – and my temp went up to 102. I took two Ibuprofen, and finally listened to Marian who said she’d rather drive me to the ER during daylight than at midnight. So off we went to the ER again.

The long and short of this second ER visit was that I had cholecystitis and needed to have my gall bladder taken out. I could not believe it, and said to the doctor, “I know I’m fat, female, fair, and more than forty, but I’m not having any abdominal pain.” I agreed to spend the night in the hospital, but wanted to wait to have surgery until I had recovered more from my 2-day-old appendectomy . The surgeon on call this time was excellent – she was willing to collaborate with me and postpone surgery. I was scheduled to be discharged Wednesday, and we had worked out a follow-up plan. Before leaving I ordered lunch (I was hungry and hadn’t eaten for 24 hours). I had salmon, steamed broccoli, and mashed potatoes. It all tasted good, and I got dressed and was ready to leave as soon as the resident came to see me. But by then I felt like I was getting a fever again, and just didn’t feel good. So I said, “Fine, you can take out my gall bladder.” Surgery was scheduled for 8:30 the next morning, Thursday, June 10.

All went well, and fortunately I had asked Marian to bring me the book I’d been reading, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, by Richard Rohr. I say fortunately, because I was wide awake that evening and spent from about 10:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m. reading and thinking about how this surgery business is good preparation for death. Not that I had any feeling or premonition about dying, but the loss of control, putting my life in the hopefully competent hands of other people, and waking up with the worst cotton mouth I had ever experienced, made me realize physically what I know intellectually, that one day I will leave this body. But for now, I am just grateful for laparoscopic surgery as well as the competent and kind care I received.

However, I hope that these are the end of my trips to the ER and surgery. I am also taking the advice I give other people – just because you are sent home within 24 hours after surgery doesn’t mean your body is completely healed in 24 hours. As of today, I feel so good I can hardly believe I had two surgeries two weeks ago.

The person who probably had a worse week than I did was Marian. She made nine trips to the hospital or clinic between Sunday noon and Friday noon for either me or our friend who was two weeks post-op for a hip replacement. Marian also was taking care of Floey (our dog), herself, and anything else that needed to be done at home, plus being a bit worried about me. Today is her birthday, and she has been rewarded with her favorite dessert – schaum torte topped with vanilla ice cream and fresh strawberries picked by another friend.

My experience over the past couple weeks, along with reading Richard Rohr’s book, Falling Upward, reminded me of a short essay I wrote several years ago for our church’s Lenten devotional booklet. Here’s part of what I wrote referencing Luke 23:46,

“Jesus crying with a loud voice said, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Having said this he breathed his last.”

Having been a nurse for 40-plus years, I have been with many people as they have breathed their last. I have also been present for a few as they have come into the world, taking their first breath. In between our first breath and our last breath is what we know as life – our human experience. There is, for me, a sacred mystery regarding both our first breath and our last breath, and I am always humbled to be a part of the end of someone’s life journey.

A quote that comes to mind for me as I think about this is by Pierre Teilhard de Chardon:

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

Jesus’ cry in today’s verse, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” reminds me that we are indeed spiritual beings that will once again be united with our Creator and Redeemer.

Dear Jesus, I am grateful that you have gone to prepare a place for us, and that you will be with us as we breathe our last breath, as well as every moment that we breathe during our life on earth. May we also commend our spirits and lives into your hands, today and when we breathe our last. Amen.

“Now Thank We All Our God”

Nov16

I’m almost done writing the first draft of my next book. My first two books in this series about the stories behind hymns were focused on hymns on a particular theme. My first book was a small book about the stories of 31 hymns that were based on the Psalms. My second book had 51 stories about hymns based on the theme of peace and comfort.

My current book is about seasonal hymns – the stories behind hymns written to celebrate the seasons of the church year from Advent and Christmas, through Easter and Pentecost, and ending with Christ the King Sunday. I’m also including hymns written to celebrate national holidays, like Thanksgiving. Of the 120 hymn stories in this book, I just finished drafting the story of the 114th hymn, “Now Thank We All Our God.”

The pandemic has provided me an atmosphere that’s very conducive to writing. If I’m supposed to stay at home and avoid seeing people I don’t live with, sitting at my computer to research the history of hymns is the perfect thing to do. I started writing this book in March. I’ll admit, it was a little hard to focus on Advent hymns during Lent, and Lenten hymns during the beautiful sunny days of summer. I’m finally caught up, and am now in sync. I’m writing about Thanksgiving hymns just in time for Thanksgiving.

Which leads me into why I’m writing this blog post today. Not only is “Now Thank We All Our God” a hymn of thankfulness that is appropriate for this time of year, the hymn was written in 1636, during the peak of the plague that spread throughout Europe – a time we can somewhat identify with this year, the year of our own pandemic. Because the parallels between 1636 and 2020 are so notable, I decided to share the story on my blog.

“NOW THANK WE ALL OUR GOD”

I’m writing this on Sunday, November 15, 2020, less than two weeks before Thanksgiving. This is the year of the Corona Virus, COVID-19. Public Health officials are urging us to stay home for Thanksgiving – to NOT gather with friends and family. The risk of spreading the virus is too great. It’s easy to feel disappointed or depressed by the havoc the virus has wreaked on our country and the whole world this year. This Thanksgiving is not a time that many of us are inclined to feel very thankful.

Almost 400 years ago, the world was in a similar predicament. The Thirty Years War was raging and the plague was spreading throughout Europe. In 1636 Martin Rinkart, a Lutheran pastor in the walled city of Eilenburg, Germany, wrote the hymn, “Now Thank We All Our God.” Throughout the Thirty Years War, Eilenburg, as a walled city, was flooded with refugees seeking safety. That resulted in overcrowding, widespread hunger, and disease. Also, the city was sacked three times during the war, once by the Austrian Army and twice by the Swedish Army.

By the mid 1630s, Rinkart was the only pastor still alive in the city, and he was left with the task of officiating at the funerals of everyone who died – sometimes as many as 50 funerals in a day. One was for his wife.

Despite this horrible situation, Rinkart regularly invited refugees into his home for meals, even though he barely had enough food for his own family. He wrote “Now Thank We All Our God” as a prayer to be sung before a meal. The first verse expresses gratitude to God for his “countless gifts of love.” The second verse is a petition for God’s continued care. The last verse praises God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – “the one eternal God.”

During his ministry, Rinkart wrote 65 other hymns, but this is the one that is still in wide use. Even today it is one of the most frequently sung hymns in German churches.

In the 1850s, Catherine Winkworth, an English hymn writer and educator traveled in Germany and became very interested in German hymns. She selected about 400 German hymns, translated them into English, and published four hymn books of German hymns in English. She is the person who brought “Now Thank We All Our God” to the English-speaking world.

This year may be the perfect year to sing or read “Now Thank We All Our God” before we eat our Thanksgiving dinner, just as the author intended it to be sung – as a prayer before a meal.

Now thank we all our God with hearts and hands and voices,
who wondrous things has done, in whom this world rejoices;
who, from our mothers’ arms, has blest us on our way
with countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

Oh, may this bounteous God through all our life be near us,
with ever joyful hearts and blessed peace to cheer us,
and keep us all in grace, and guide us when perplexed,
and free us from all harm in this world and the next.

All praise and thanks to God the Father now be given,
the Son, and Spirit blest, who reign in highest heaven,
and one eternal God, whom earth and heaven adore;
for thus it was, is now, and shall be evermore.

The Message of a Kaleidoscope

Feb4

As soon as I got home from playing at the Presbyterian Church in Cambridge on Sunday, Mim, Floey, and I hopped into the car and drove to Chicago for a late lunch at the Buffalo Ice Cream Parlor. This was a special weekend.

Chicago looked like a magical kingdom in the clouds.

Forty-seven years ago I accepted a new job as an editorial researcher for The World Book Encyclopedia. I needed to find an apartment and move to Chicago fast to be ready to start work the next Monday. I had less than a week to get settled. For a couple days I slept on the couch of a childhood friend June, who was living in the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago at the time. I spent a couple days walking the streets of different “safe” neighborhoods, looking for “For Rent” signs. One evening I went with June to a neighborhood Bible Study. Less than a dozen people were there. One of them was Mim. When June introduced us and explained to Mim that I was looking for an apartment, Mim immediately offered to let me stay with her in her small apartment (one bedroom, but she had bunk beds) until I could find a place of my own. The next evening we went to the Buffalo Ice Cream Parlor to work out the details. The next day I went home to pack up my stuff and move into Mim’s apartment.

1973 – Mim and me in our first apartment.

Hard to believe that happened 47 years ago, and we’re still living together. The original building of the Buffalo Ice Cream Parlor was torn down and replaced with a Shell gas station while we still lived in Chicago. But, the restaurant lives on in one of the northwest suburbs. Lunch wasn’t quite the same, but we had fun reminiscing about our first meal together. After lunch we drove by our first apartment in the Logan Square neighborhood, and then by the two-flat we owned in the Ravenswood Manor neighborhood. We spent the night in a dog-friendly hotel.

Mim and Floey enjoying almost balmy weather.

The next morning we drove through the Edgewater neighborhood to see an apartment we had lived in for six years. That apartment was near the lake, so we took Floey for a walk along the lakeshore at Montrose Harbor. The weather was perfect – warm and sunny.

As we reflected on the many transitions we’ve made in our lives, we talked more about the transition we are currently in the middle of – going from full-time caregiving in our home to semi-retirement. Monday’s reading from Mornings with Jesus, (a Guideposts Publication) seemed particularly relevant. The author Heidi Gaul was talking about kaleidoscopes. Here’s an excerpt:

… Nestled on my porch rocker, I peek through the lens of a child’s toy, watching colors and shapes dance and play. As I twist the tube, patterns transform and change…

In my mind’s eye, I see another picture reminding me how different we are as individuals and especially as Christians. Each of us adds something new to this ever-changing creation, displaying the touch of the Master’s hand. One might resemble the bright yellow chips as he visits bedridden members of his church; another, the soft green bit as she calms babies in the nursery…

If we follow Jesus, our “colors” will change according to whatever form of service we’re called to during that season of life. Our responsibilities may vary, but our purpose – furthering Jesus’s kingdom – doesn’t. We are created to serve with the humility and love Jesus shared.

When we work together in harmony, the product of our labor is ageless and beautiful…

The images produced by kaleidoscopes suggest a new way of reflecting on the many transitions we go through in our lifetime. As Pastor Jeff reminded us in his homily last weekend, in each phase of our life, with each transition we go through, we need to remember what God has told us,

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?
[Micah 6:8, New Revised Standard Version]

My collection of kaleidoscopes. The one on the left was a Christmas present to me from Mim’s mother the first year she lived with us.

A Word for the New Year

Jan13

fullsizeoutput_2bc7 Almost every day for at least the last ten years, I’ve started my morning in the comfortable sitting area of my downstairs office. I light the seasonal arrangement of candles on the coffee table, and settle into my Lazy Boy recliner. I spend from ten minutes to an hour quietly beginning the day.

Before I start reading, I mentally sing a hymn to focus my mind into a worshipful or meditative state. I don’t sing out loud, because hearing my voice would be an unwelcome distraction. I don’t play the piano because that’s about ten feet away from where I’ve already settled into my chair. Singing the hymn mentally is just the right way to get my soul ready.

The first few years I sang “Holy, Holy, Holy” for this centering exercise. Then I sang “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow” for a few years. One year I took a brand new hymnal I’d just received, and mentally sang one or two hymns a day, from page one to the end of the hymnal. Last December I decided to use “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” to focus my mind throughout Advent. I sang one verse a day, until I came to verse 3.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high
and order all things far and nigh;
To us the path of knowledge show
and cause us in her ways to go.

From that day on, I’ve mentally sung this verse every day. Even after Christmas. I’m still singing it every morning. I intend to use this song throughout 2020, and I’ve made WISDOM my special word for the year.

If you are a long-time reader of this blog, you know that I’ve been selecting a special word each year for the past seven years.

JOY was the word for 2014. I delighted in looking for joy somewhere each day.
GRATITUDE was my word for 2015. Throughout that year I developed the habit of listing at least three things each day that I was especially grateful for as I went to bed each night. I still do it.
KINDNESS was the word for 2016. I learned to look for examples of kindness being exhibited by people I saw around me, and thought about new ways I could show kindness myself. I made up new words to use as a second verse to the song “This Is the Day that the Lord Hath Made” – “What can I do to reflect God’s Love? I can be kind to everyone…” I mentally sing these two verses at the end of my quiet time every morning.
HOPE was the word for 2017. That was a challenging year all around the world, and I tried to focus on being hopeful, despite how fearful I was of the political situation.
PEACE was the word for 2018. I looked for hymns about peace throughout the year, and I started to write my book Hymns of Peace and Comfort. I published the book last year.
LOVE was my word for 2019. I chose that word because I realized that of the four Advent themes – Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love, Love was the only word I hadn’t used yet as a “special word.” With the help of Mim and our dog Floey, I realized last year how much our home is filled with love. Our house may never become uncluttered, but anyone who comes to our door knows they are alway welcome. We’re truly thankful for the love God has shown us through friends, animals, and each other.

I expect 2020 will continue to be a year of transition for us, from full-time caregiving into gradual retirement, whatever that means. That’s what Mim and I need to learn. And that’s why WISDOM seems like the perfect word for me to focus on this year. And that’s why mentally singing the third verse of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” is the perfect way for me to begin each day.

HAPPY NEW WORD! HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Love from all three of us – Marian, Mim & Floey

Mim sharing our love with Quincy, one of Floey’s best friends.

My Sister Nancy

Nov14

Nancy-Clark 2 adj Today, November 14, would have been my sister Nancy’s 82nd birthday. She died eleven years ago, just a few days after her 71st birthday. (My age now.) I was alone at our Christmas Mountain timeshare when she died unexpectedly. Mim called me with the shocking and sad news. I spent the rest of my retreat time at Christmas Mountain that week paging through a hymnal and playing all of Nancy’s favorite hymns on my portable keyboard.

I’m at Christmas Mountain again this year on November 14, finishing up the next book in my “Talking with God through Music” series, Hymns of Peace and Comfort. A lot of the hymns I’ve written about in this new book are the same hymns I played eleven years ago, as I was seeking comfort from God while I absorbed what it meant to lose a sister. Music is truly a gift of God.

Nancy was almost like a second mom to me. She was eleven years older, so I saw her more as an adult than as a kid to play with. She was a big sister I was really proud of. She was smart (salutatorian of her high school class), musically talented (played piano, organ, and trombone), very Christian (she read her Bible and prayed every morning before getting out of bed), and she was always kind and loving to others.

To say she had an influence on me is an understatement. I like to say that I was smarter than she was (I was valedictorian of my high school class), but she beat me in everything else. I learned to play piano and organ like her, but my arms were too short to play a trombone. When I learned to read, Nancy subscribed to a children’s daily devotional magazine for me to encourage me to read the Bible and pray every morning. I got in the habit, but I’m sure I missed more mornings than Nancy did. I have always tried to follow her example of being kind and loving to others. She was a really good role model for me.

Today is a good day to remember Nancy, and to thank God for all the wonderful people God has allowed me to spend time with in my life.

Me and my siblings – Danny, Nancy, and me

Getting Serious about a Bucket List

Sep11

The term “bucket list” came into widespread use after the 2007 movie Bucket List was released, starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. The movie was about two old men who each had a terminal cancer diagnosis. Together they decided to do everything they could on their lists of “things to do before I kick the bucket.”

Although I’ve never seen the movie, I’ve picked up the term myself, and occasionally refer to something I really want to do sometime before I die as being on “my bucket list.” I don’t have a formalized “bucket list” yet, although I hope to create one before the end of this year. Now that Mim and I are sort of retired, we better get busy doing all the things we really want to do before it’s too late. As you may know, I’m a planner, and I need to have a list before I can plan and schedule all the details. I’m ready to get started.

We already accomplished the first item on our bucket list! We saw an opportunity and jumped at it – even though our list isn’t formalized yet. Accomplishing our first bucket list item was an amazing experience, which motivates me to do the planning that will help us accomplish all the other things on our yet-to-be-defined bucket list.

Joan Chittister

One thing that Mim and I have wanted to do for several years is to hear Joan Chittister speak in person. She is one of our favorite authors. She’s a Benedictine sister who has written over 60 books, and who speaks all over the world. She’s in her 80s. I receive her email newsletter every Monday morning. Three weeks ago, on August 19, her email provided a link to her upcoming speaking engagements. On Tuesday, September 2, she would be speaking at the National Association of Older Adults Conference (NOAC) at Lake Junaluska, North Carolina. That was in two weeks. I asked Mim if we should be spontaneous and try to go to the conference. She agreed we should try to see if we could do it.

I googled NOAC to find out about the conference. The Church of the Brethren puts on a week-long national conference every other year for their older adult members at Lake Junaluska Conference Center in western North Carolina. For every conference they schedule three keynote speakers, one each for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings. (This year’s speakers would be Joan Chittister, Drew Hart, and Ted Swartz with Ken Medema assisting him with background music.) NOAC also provides worship services every evening led by five of their own Brethren preachers. (Three of the five “Brethren” preachers were women this year.) In the afternoons they offer a variety of activities including bus trips to nearby attractions, Q&A sessions with keynote speakers, arts and crafts, service projects, golf, boating, etc. It looked like we would be going to an old-fashioned Bible camp for old people, right next to the Smoky Mountains!

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I called the NOAC coordinator at the Church of the Brethren national office to see if registration was still open, if conference center housing was still available, and if non-members (e.g. Lutherans) could come. The answers were all yes, so we figured it was meant to be that our first bucket list item would be accomplished.

Although we were acting spontaneously by going to this conference to hear Joan Chittister speak, my planning instinct kicked into gear, and I spent most of the next two weeks planning the details: figuring out the best driving route, booking hotels for the night down and the night back, finding replacements for my church organist duties, finding someone to take care of our dog Floey, preparing packing lists for Floey as well as for Mim and me, etc. This trip was really going to happen.

Hearing Joan Chittister speak in person was certainly a major highlight of the week. She talked about “the common good” – what it is, and how we can strive for it. She’s as dynamic a speaker as she is a dynamic writer. Of course, we bought a few more of her books, and had her sign them.

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Seeing Joan Chittister speak in person at NOAC was the perfect bucket list item for us to start with. Not only did we see Sister Joan speak, we also saw other keynote speakers and Brethren preachers speak, who were also excellent, including:

Ken Medema, the composer of “Lord, Listen to Your Children Praying,” invited conference attendees to tell him a story of a recent challenge they have encountered, and he would create a song about it on the spot and sing it back to us. He composed about half a dozen new songs during his hour-long session. Wow! How inspiring!
Ted Swartz, an actor and comedian, retold Bible stories in ways that helped us gain new insights into the stories. Ken Medema provided background music to amplify some of these new ideas.
Drew Hart, a college professor, activist, and writer, talked about his personal experience of racial injustice as a young black man and how he deals with it now.

Prior to this conference I knew nothing about the Church of the Brethren. I learned that they are one of the denominations that emphasizes peace and service; and much like the Mennonite Church, they are pacifists. They are very action oriented in terms of encouraging members to work to help others, just as Christ did. Some of the afternoon activities available at the conference were service opportunities, including: reading to students at the local elementary school, and assembling hygiene kits for the Southern Ohio/Kentucky District Disaster Services Team.

Meal times provided opportunities to meet other conference attendees and learn about their lives, churches, reasons for coming to the conference, and so on. Even though I’m an introvert, I enjoyed these conversations immensely. John David, a retired pastor, and his wife Sharyn invited us to seek them out if we ever needed a hug because of feeling unwelcome for being non-Brethren or for being a married lesbian couple. (We never felt unwelcome; in contrast we were very warmly welcomed.) Glen, a retired physicist, and Carolyn, a church organist, talked about helping women who have been abused. Glen also rebuilds old computers to give away. A 50-year-old newly retired physician talked about searching for service opportunities to get involved with, now that he finally has time to do good things for others. Over the week, we made about a dozen new friends, that we may hope to see at a future NOAC conference. On our way home Mim said this was the best conference she’d ever attended. I think I agree.

If every bucket list item provides us with as many side benefits as going to this conference to hear Joan Chittister did, then we’ll be experiencing heaven on earth with each new adventure – a perfect prelude to the next life!

I need to get busy formalizing and planning the details of our bucket list! We’re already off to an amazing start. I want to do my part to be sure it continues.

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Moving on to the Next Phase of Our Lives

Mar20

ddKDiBP7QtqhQpiYFYQsPg Monday of this week seemed really strange. It was the first day of the next phase in our lives. The day before, Anna, our last long-term assisted living resident, moved on to her next life. She had lived with us for eight years, and had just celebrated her 98th birthday a couple weeks ago. She died peacefully last Sunday with Mim holding her hand.

Now Mim and I are beginning the next phase in our lives. We’re planning to be “retired” for several months while we recuperate and clean house. (We’re both in our early 70s.) But then we plan to work a little more. We have talked informally with Rainbow Hospice Care about the possibility of Rainbow referring families to us who feel they can no longer care at home for their loved one who is receiving hospice care. We would care for their loved one in our home for their last few days, weeks, or possibly months. But we aren’t ready to start doing that yet. We need a break first. That’s our plan.

In the immediate past phase of our lives we have provided assisted living in our home. We have done this for over 16 years.

Whispering Winds Retreat Haven

The previous phase of our lives had been turning our remodeled farmhouse into a bed and breakfast. We welcomed a couple thousand people into our home over a five-year period. We began the B&B in 1998. We loved it, and we experienced steady growth in the business. By late 1999 we decided to put an addition onto our house to be able to accommodate people in wheelchairs and with other mobility issues. We named the addition our Nightingale Suite. We became one of a handful of B&Bs in Wisconsin that were wheelchair accessible. But in order to do that, Mim and I had to become politically active to change the Wisconsin B&B law to permit additions to be built onto B&Bs. Getting the law changed was the most frustrating experience of our lives. But with lots of help from other B&B owners and a few savvy state legislators, the law was changed, and we were able to complete our addition.

On September 11, 2001, the B&B phase of our lives began an abrupt change. After 911, tourism dropped drastically all over the country, all around the world actually. Our steady growth in “room nights” for our Country Comforts Bed & Breakfast came to an end. After several months of having many more empty rooms than full rooms, we decided we needed to re-think how we would earn a living. That’s when we decided to re-christen Country Comforts Bed & Breakfast to Country Comforts Assisted Living, capitalizing on Mim’s experience as a registered nurse. In November, 2002 we welcomed our first two assisted living residents.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA We’ve been in the assisted living phase of our lives for 16 years and 5 months. During that time we’ve had a total of only 10 days without having a resident to care for in our home, and those days were all in the first few months of the business, 16 years ago. Fortunately, we have always had two or three excellent caregivers to give us a few hours off each week, and even an occasional night or two away. But even during our time away, Mim has always been on call as the nursing expert.

In our 16+ years, we have cared for 20 people in our home, all but three of them through their last moment on earth. (Two recovered enough to go home, and one had to move on to a facility equipped to handle patients with advanced dementia.) In addition, we have cared for four other individuals outside of our home through their last days. We’re truly thankful for all the people, both residents and their families, God has brought into our lives throughout this phase of our lives.

Selma and baby Pun croppedk We had good preparation for the assisted living phase of our lives by caring for our parents. In 1987, we cared for my mom for the last six weeks of her life. She and my dad came to Chicago to live with us while we cared for her. A few years later, in 1991, Mim and I took some time off from our work in Chicago to come to Cambridge to care for my dad throughout the last couple weeks of his life. And finally, in 1993, a few month’s after we moved to Wisconsin, Mim’s mother had a stroke that left her paralyzed on her left side. We cared for her in our home for almost five years.

Although both Mim and I have loved being in the assisted living phase of our lives, we’re ready for a little break. And on Monday of this week, that break began. It feels really strange to be able to come and go as we please, and not have to be sure our residents are cared for while we’re gone.

“Christ in Our Home” is a quarterly devotional booklet published by Augsburg Fortress in Minneapolis. Yesterday the scripture reading was from the end of the first chapter of Matthew, where an angel of the Lord told Joseph in a dream to marry his pregnant fiancee, Mary – that God had a plan for their lives. The comments in the devotional booklet really caught my attention as I was reflecting on the changes happening in my own life.

I have a hunch that most of us can relate to Joseph, because most of us have had something happen in our lives that took us off our planned route… Joseph later found out that God had a plan for him the whole time. It wasn’t Joseph’s original plan, but it was much better…

When life diverts us onto a detour, it is comforting to remember that God is with us, that God is still in control. And when we trust and believe in this, there is no detour too great to cause us to lose our way. When our lives seem out of control, we can trust that God is still in control and has a plan for us… [p. 82]

Mim and I have exciting plans for the next phase of our lives. Whether things happen exactly according to our plans, or not, we learned from the B&B and assisted living phases of our lives that God’s plans may be even greater than ours. We’re eager to see what’s next!

The Love of a Dog

Mar4

fullsizeoutput_281c On February 23 we celebrated Anna’s 98th birthday. Anna has been living with us as an assisted living resident for eight years now. Some of her family members came for a little party, and everyone, especially Anna, had a really good time.

One week later, Anna had a stroke. It was about noon on Friday. She had walked with her walker over to the kitchen counter for lunch. After she had been sitting there a few minutes, she started to look a little sleepy and unsteady. Both Mim and I got up to check on her, helped her into a wheelchair, wheeled her into her bedroom, and then helped her into bed. As Mim checked her blood pressure and had her squeeze her hands and did other diagnostics, our dog Floey jumped into bed with Anna, and refused to leave her side. Anna giggled at Floey’s devotion and she reached down to pet her. Floey is a good friend of Anna’s, but she’s never hopped into bed with her before. Floey knew something was wrong, and she sprang into action to help Anna every bit as much as Mim and I had.

Floey showed Anna just how much she loved her, and how important she was to her. I foolishly tried to coax Floey out of the bed with a treat to be sure she wouldn’t be in our way. She wouldn’t budge. Her place was with Anna. She loves Anna, and she knew Anna needed her to comfort her.

That’s kind of like God’s love, I think. At least, I think I begin to understand a little more what God’s love is like when I see Floey’s love for Anna.

We don’t know the final outcome of Anna’s stroke. She might be with us another couple years to make it ten years with us at Country Comforts Assisted Living, and a hundred years on this earth. Or she might not. What we do know is that she’s in the care of a loving God. And Floey is helping us understand what that means.

Floey and Anna watching TV together

A Glimpse of God’s Love

Jan16

Last Saturday, Mim and I tried to drive to Chicago, normally about a two and a half hour drive, for a memorial service. Unfortunately, we got only as far as the distant northwest suburbs before we decided to turn around and go home. Although the weather forecast for Chicago was to get only 1 to 3 inches of snow, visibility had diminished to just a few car lengths, and the roads were getting pretty slippery. We thought it would be wiser to write a letter to our friend’s adult children to explain how much we admired their dad and how much we learned about God’s love from him.

Jon presented me with a chocolate cake when I retired from the CCHC board.

Jon Beran was one of three founding doctors of Circle Christian Health Center (CCHC), a not-for-profit clinic on the far west side of Chicago – a very poor and violent, mostly African American neighborhood, and a medically under-served part of Chicago. Mim worked at the clinic in the early 1980s after she completed her advanced practice degree as a nurse practitioner. I served on the board of CCHC when I completed my MBA. We both chose Jon to be our personal physician. He was a good doctor, a good listener, and perhaps the kindest, most gentle, and most humble person I’ve ever met.

When Jon was in medical school in the early 1970s, he attended Circle Church, an Evangelical Free congregation that met in rented space – the Teamster’s Union Hall on the near west side of Chicago, close to Circle Campus of the University of Illinois. The mostly college-aged and young professional members of the congregation enthusiastically committed their lives to serving Christ in their chosen professions wherever the needs were greatest.

At that time, one of the most socially and economically distressed neighborhoods in Chicago was Austin, on the far west side of the city. A group of people within the Circle Church congregation decided to move into Austin to serve the people of that community. Circle Urban Ministries was founded as the network that would link a medical clinic, a counseling center, a legal aid practice, a youth center, and eventually a church.

Staff of CCHF in the late 1970s. Jon and Nita on left.

Jon and his wife Nita (a nurse) bought a house in Austin. They had two children and raised them in that neighborhood. (Their son has become an architect and their daughter has become a family practice physician, like her dad.) Both Jon and Nita spent their entire careers serving the people of Austin through CCHC. Nita passed away two years ago. Mim and I made it to her visitation. It was obvious by all the people from the neighborhood at the funeral home that Nita and Jon were very much loved by their community.

Mom kept crocheting afghans for babies of teenage mothers in Chicago until just a few weeks before she died.

One of my favorite memories of Jon relates to my mom. When she was in the last stages of liver cancer, Mom and Dad came to live with Mim and me in Chicago for her last six weeks. Although we got Mom signed up to receive hospice care while she lived with us, she needed to have a local doctor see her and prescribe medications. We asked Jon if he would be her doctor. Of course, he said yes. Mom was too weak to ride to the clinic, so Jon made house calls to see her. We lived pretty far from Austin, about a 30-minute drive or 45-minute trip on the “L” each way, but Jon came over to see her as often as she needed him, usually coming by “L.” He carried his stethoscope and other doctoring tools in a Jewel Food Store plastic bag. He didn’t carry a doctor’s bag because he didn’t want to look like a doctor who might be carrying drugs.

Besides caring for Mom’s physical needs, Jon also took time to listen to Mom talk about how she was trusting God to heal her. I didn’t eavesdrop on the whole conversation, but I know Jon somehow related her trust in God to the trust his children needed to have in him when he was teaching them how to swim. They needed to trust that he would take care of them even though they didn’t totally understand how everything was going to work. Then Jon prayed with Mom.

As I mentioned in this blog last week, my special word for 2019 is LOVE, as in the LOVE OF GOD. One of the books I’m reading to kick off my year-long reflection on LOVE is BUMPING INTO GOD: 35 stories of finding grace in unexpected places by Dominic Grassi, a Catholic priest who lives in Chicago. From the back cover of the book,

A natural storyteller, Dominic Grassi invites readers to share his warm memories of life in Chicago over the past five decades. He shows how God is reflected in the people we meet every day: a butcher, a bookstore owner, a short-order cook.

And, I would add, a special doctor named Jon. I’m sure thousands of people have caught a glimpse of God’s love by bumping into Jon sometime in their lives. I know my mom did. And so did I.

A Long Talk with My Dog – the best way to begin the New Year.

Jan10

Floey looking at camera

Floey jumped down from the couch, stretched her whole body, and sauntered over to me. I was sitting at my desk. She plopped herself down right next to me. But instead of resuming her nap, she looked up at me and asked, “What are you doing, Mom? You look like you’re just staring off into space. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just thinking about something I said, or rather, didn’t say yesterday, and I kind of regret the conversation.”

“Who were you talking with?”

“I went downtown for a haircut late yesterday afternoon.”

“Yeah. I remember. You took me out for a really quick walk, and then you left. Were you talking with the person who cuts your hair?”

“Yes. She cuts my hair really fast – like in ten minutes. But despite her cutting speed, she likes to talk with me the whole time she’s cutting. I don’t know how she can concentrate on getting my hair cut right, but somehow she does.”

“I wish my groomer was fast like that. She always takes at least 45 minutes, but she gives me a bath, blows me dry, trims the hair around my ears and paws, and gives me a pedicure. She talks to me, too, but I know she’s concentrating really hard on everything she does to me. At least she ends the grooming session with a really good treat. Do you get a treat?”

“No, Floey, I don’t.”

“That’s too bad. Well, what are you regretting about your conversation with your haircutter?”

“We really don’t know each other very well, and our conversations are usually just typical small talk – the weather, how our dogs are doing, any new restaurants we’ve tried, and so on. Yesterday she asked me if I have any goals for this new year. I told her no.”

“You don’t make New Year’s resolutions any more, so you don’t have goals, do you?”

“Well, sort of. Six years ago I changed from making New Year’s resolutions to choosing a special word to concentrate on all year long. The first special word I chose was JOY. Every day in 2014 I thought about finding JOY somewhere in the day. I loved the positive energy that came from finding JOY throughout the whole year. The next year I chose the word GRATITUDE. That was just as inspiring. In 2016, my word was KINDNESS. The next year was HOPE. And last year my word was PEACE. Every year has been really special by having a deliberate focus.”

fullsizeoutput_200f “I remember, Mom, in January of 2015, shortly after you adopted me, you explained “special words” to me, and as a young pup of less than a year old, I chose my first special word – LEARN, because I was going to concentrate on learning all I could to become the best companion to our residents that I could be. Remember, Mom?”

“I sure do, Floey, and you have learned a lot. Everyone agrees that you are our best caregiver of all.”

“Thanks, Mom. But let’s get back to your conversation yesterday. Why are you feeling bad about it?”

“Well, Floey, I should have told the person who cuts my hair (and the customer and hairdresser at the next chair who were listening to us) about how uplifting the practice of focusing on one special word for a year can be. Unlike when making a New Year’s resolution that you know will get broken before the end of the year, when you choose a special word, there can only be positive outcomes – the more you think about an inspiring word, the more inspired your life will be, even if you miss a few days of thinking about it. At least that’s been my experience in the six years I’ve been doing this.”

“One year, Mom, remember I chose a bad word. I chose the word MEOW because I was going to try to learn how to communicate better with the cats in the neighborhood. But the cats didn’t want to get to know me, so I eventually changed words. I borrowed your word of KINDNESS, and tried to be kind to those cats, even though they didn’t deserve it.”

“But even that worked out for good, Floey, because you focused on being KIND, and that enriched your life, didn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

“Anyway, I wish I’d taken the initiative yesterday to explain my approach of choosing a special word every year. Maybe the women in the salon would have liked to try out this practice for themselves.”

“Mom, tell me what you wished you had said to them. How did the word PEACE work out for you in 2018, and what’s your word for 2019? Is that what you wanted to tell them?”

“I guess so. One of the special things I did last year to deepen my understanding of PEACE was to look for all the hymns I could find with PEACE as the theme. I selected 16 of those hymns to include in my next book of hymn reflections. Dona Nobis Pacem, Let There Be Peace on Earth, Peace in the Valley, Make Me a Servant of Your Peace – those are just a few of the hymns that focus on the PEACE of God. I loved doing that study.”

“How about your word for this year?”

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“As I was thinking about what word to choose for this year, I realized that the themes of the four Sundays in Advent are HOPE, PEACE, JOY, and LOVE. I’ve already chosen three of the four themes. LOVE is the only one I haven’t focused on yet. The more I thought about it, I realized the most concise phrase that summarizes the nature of God is GOD IS LOVE. I guess it’s time I try to deepen my understanding of God’s LOVE. So LOVE is the word I chose for 2019.”

“That sounds like a good word for you this year. Do you know if Mim has chosen a word?”

“I think she said her word is going to be PATIENCE. We’ll have to ask her more about why she chose that word for this year when she gets home. How about you, Floey?”

“I chose the word LISTEN. I’m really good at listening sometimes, especially to our residents. But other times, I just block out voices and other noises I don’t want to be bothered with. I have such good ears, I should make better use of the gift of superior hearing that God has given me. I’ll listen for birds, chipmunks, music, the wind – whatever sounds are out there – maybe even for you when you call me to come…”

“Well that would be wonderful! As soon as I know that you listen well enough to always hear me when I call you to come, we can start going to the dog park!”

“That’s great! This is going to be a really good year!”

“You’re right, Floey. And thank you for listening to me now. Talking about what I wish I’d said yesterday makes me feel better. Thanks. You’re already a good listener. You’re off to a good start with your new word!”

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Whispering Winds

Whispering Winds Blog … Taking Time to be still and listen for God

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