Cowboy Church!

A great rollicking good time was had at the Community Care Center (CCC) today!  Particularly by the team… We started with Cowboy Church at 10: Bruce, Patrick and David played guitar/drums for some good old fashioned Gospel singin’. Laura and Renee led the singing.  Elizabeth and Titus dressed up in their western garb and helped sing, Patricia helped sing and serve communion, Patti smiled a lot, the boys and girls sang, and Glenn bounced around making everyone laugh.

And we needed to laugh - the whole thing started out as a comedy of errors.  The resident/pastor who was engaged to preach forgot (even though he showed me his message and I reminded him on Wednesday and Thursday) and went out with his wife.  I found this out at 9:30.  The guys got set up and we found there were no microphones in the gear we borrowed from the church, so Bruce drove back to church to get some.  He returned with ten minutes to set up, but after 20 minutes the PA system still would not work, so we went acoustic. 

But guess what? The Lord was working, and it was perfect. 

Due to the late start, we didn’t have time for a real message anyway, so a communion meditation  sufficed all ‘round.  The service went long – until nearly 10:50, but nobody wanted to leave.

This was the most-attended event this year: 38 residents!  One Jehovah’s Witness, one confirmed anti-church person, three lone rangers (who don't come because they can do religion quite well on their own, thank you very much, and two new residents, among others.  The gospel was presented clearly, and those who were able and willing took Communion. Afterward, David stayed and showed Josef how the box drum worked.

One new lady came and I was surprised to see her. On my way to bring Bob up from downstairs, I had seen her at the outside doorway, screaming obscenities at a nurse.  She appeared in the middle of the first song and sat down as calmly as you please, singing along with great gusto.  She left before communion was served.  I saw her later and asked her name and let her know she was welcome to join us for church any time.  She hung her head.

“The devil was at work in my life this morning,” she said.  “And I was not going to come to church at all. But the Lord wanted me in there and when I heard the music I just came right on in – I couldn’t help myself. I needed to be there – while you were talking I realized I had to go and find that nurse and apologize and make it right. I’m very sorry for the way I behaved. I shamed myself and the Lord and I’m going to do better for Him, after all He’s done for me.”

I heard about Cowboy church all afternoon. Every time I turned around someone was thanking me for the music and the service and for having Communion. One of the men (who sometimes has trouble finding the right words) was having a family visit in the afternoon, and he called me over and said, "I've been telling my daughter all about the wonderful hobo music we had in church today!"

"Hobo music?!?!" I exclaimed, "What do you mean HOBO music?  That was my HUSBAND up there!  I'm going to tell him you said that.  Hobo music indeed...."  And we all laughed about it until our stomachs hurt.

And then I went to visit Kellie.  She was the first person I ever visited.

On that long ago day I walked in to see this stranger, worried about what I was going to say and how I would know whether she was open to talking about spiritual things.   I found her alone in a dark room staring at a blank wall (she’s nearly blind).  She looked up at me and barked, “Is it hot out?”

“Um, no, I said.  It’s October, so it’s rather chilly, actually.”

“Oh,” she said, and then “Well, the rapture's coming.”

She’s a firm believer and enthusiastic second-coming discusser.  But since her last hospitalization in March, she has grown increasingly silent, though she often she calls out “Help me, oh help me!” or “Oh God!”  into the empty air. So often that one of the men in her hallway (who’s a bit confused and doesn’t do names well) once missed her and asked me ‘When is Oh God coming back?”) 

Today I was speaking with another resident in the hall and heard Kellie crying out in her room so I stopped in to see her.  To my surprise, she made some responses to my questions.  Then she started moaning again, “Help me!” “Oh, God!”  “Please help me!”

“What do you need, Kellie?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You keep saying 'Help me.' What do you need help with?”

These are questions I have asked her before, many times, and which she has never answered.  And she didn’t answer this time.  But as I looked down at her, understanding finally blasted into my brain.

“Wait – you’re not talking to me, are you?”

“No.”

“It’s a prayer, isn’t it?”

And she said, relived, “Yes, it is.”

“What do you want Him to help you with, Kellie?”

With tears in her eyes, she answered, “I want Him to come for me. I’m ready. Why is He waiting so long?  And I’m scared. Scared witless.”

“Why?  What frightens you?”

“I….I just don’t know. But it’s terrible. Oh, God!  Please help me!”

“I’ll pray that with you right now. Let’s talk to Him together, alright?’

“I started with ‘Oh God, please help Kellie!’ and the Holy Spirit led us in prayer.  A long prayer.  And she participated, which I think was a first.

And that was only one of the ways God was working at The CCC yesterday; it was a truly blessed day!

"Hallelujah....plus tax!"

Pray…believing!

That’s what it says in my Bible (the one Pastor Brown gave me): “Pray…Believing.” Those two words of advice made an eternal difference in his life, and it was the one thing he wrote in the Bible when he inscribed it over to me.  Well, today I got to see this in action. It was an amazing day – mostly for what the Lord taught me in it.

Today there was an outing planned for the residents: we were going to Alki Beach in West Seattle for a picnic. The two youngest boys and I were accompanying our special resident friend, Josef, and there were five others: two in wheelchairs and three walkers.  Alki is a nice beach – there’s a long promenade with separate lanes for bikes and walking, a huge seawall, a sandy beach, and plenty of convenient benches.  The only problem was…it was supposed to rain.  The prediction was for 68 degrees, mostly cloudy, with a 60% chance of rain.

Now, here in Seattle, one thing the weather does reliably well is rain.  If the forecast is for sunshine, it is quite likely to be wrong, but the only possible error in a rainy forecast is that it usually rains more than predicted.  I started praying as soon as I knew about the outing, as I always do.  But when I found out the forecast I changed my usual prayer.  Always before, when we were taking Josef or the residents out, I prayed “Lord, whatever You want to do is fine, just please don’t let it rain.”  And it never has rained, though it has been cool and cloudy every time.

This was uncanny – another outing day where rain was the major forecast.  I decided to pray differently.

“Lord,” I said, “I’m trusting You for something bigger this time.  We’re taking the residents to the beach and we need sunshine.  Not just 'no rain' – a bright, sunny day.  Warm too.”  And then I added in some Old Testament stuff, just in case:  “And I’m going to tell everyone I prayed for sun and I’m trusting You for it, so it’s Your name that’s on the line here.”

So I crossed my mental arms and nodded.  That said it.  And then I started reminding myself to trust Him. And I was doing pretty well, even when the weather forecast looked more and more alarming.   I could honestly say I trusted Him completely…and then I woke up this morning, looked outside and saw that it was raining.  Not just misting either.  A real rain, complete with thick ominous clouds and 50 degree temps.  It was a huge let-down.  I didn’t even know whether to go down to the Community Care Center (CCC), because I figured we wouldn’t go.  But then, as it came near the time for us to leave, I heard the voice of Pastor Brown. He's always telling me “No, no, no!  You’ve got to pray….believing!”

I understood how that worked in theory.  However, it is not the way I usually operate.  I confess that my usual MO is “Pray for what you want…say 'but Thy will be done'...and then prepare for all contingencies.”  By that point I was all packed.  I had lunches for myself and the kids, wet wipes, kites and a Frisbee, a couple umbrellas, first aid kit, camera, and water bottles for all of us and Josef.  I was ready.  But was that really Praying…believing?  It was easy to see how it would operate when the outcome of the day was still unclear.  But what did Pray…believing mean when it was fifty degrees and I could stick out my hand and feel the pouring rain?

I gave it some thought.  And prayed “Alright, Lord, I’m going to go down there to the CCC, trusting You for sunshine.”  But I had that niggling feeling that it wasn’t enough.  But what else was there?  Finally, I decided to put my money where my mouth was.  I took the umbrellas out of the outing backpack and put a tube of sunscreen in, watching the rain dripping from the eaves.

“There, Lord. That’s all I’ve got. I’m trusting You for sun. And I’m believing.”

Herman the Bus Driver was doubtful.  “Weeeeellllll, we might be eating on the bus today,” he said, looking at the lowering clouds.

“Nope,” I said.  “I prayed about it and asked the Lord for sun, and I’m trusting Him.  Look – I brought sunscreen.”

Everyone was skeptical as we loaded up the bus, with their sweaters and jackets and long pants.  And as we started to drive, with the windshield wipers swiping the rain away intermittently, it was not easy to keep believing.  Herman kept glancing at me with concern in the rearview mirror as he drove, and I kept reminding him that we were going to have sun. And ever time, he said "I believe you."

And then, halfway across the West Seattle Bridge…the clouds just evaporated.  Really. One minute the sky was leaden and weepy and the next minute there was not a cloud in sight. It was that fast. Herman nearly drove off the bridge.  And the weather held - we couldn’t have had a better day. The sun stayed out, it was quite warm with a cool breeze off the ocean, and the few clouds were puffy and white and very friendly.  Herman’s comment, “Hallelujah plus tax!” We even needed the sunscreen – one of the ladies started to turn pink on the back of the neck.  

The boys flew kites, picked up sea creatures to show the residents, played in the sand, and generally horsed around.  The residents talked and watched the boats and ate their sack lunches. The only glitch in the otherwise-perfect day was that the kitchen, in their ultimate wisdom, sent us six puddings and two spoons, which made life interesting in the dessert arena.

I pushed Josef up and down the promenade while the little boys splashed in the waves, and we took in the sights and checked out the plantings. It was a fantastic day, and all the way home I was singing praises to the Lord for the sunshine, the fun outing, and all He had taught me in it.

Pray…believing

Hallelujah plus tax!

In Memoriam

A Nursing Home Chaplain Looks at Memorial Day:

"A true soldier doesn't fight because he hates what's in front of him; he fights because he loves what he left behind." - GK Chesterton

My grandfather fought in WWII. He told me once that a soldier's most precious possession was a little packet in his rucksack where he kept letters and pictures from home, to remind him that he had something worth fighting for.  Worth dying for. 
Those people in the pictures were wives, children, parents, girlfriends, schoolmates. None of them were perfect by any means; they'd all had disagreements and conflicts due to selfishness, pride, and willful failure to consider others as more important than themselves.  In some cases, the soldiers weren't even certain of their love and loyalty, and lived daily with the fear of a "Dear John" letter - a final rejection that would end the relationship.

Those at home were struggling too; wondering what was going on "over there."  There was a bigger plan, and they weren't privy to all the details, and they lived each day knowing that at any moment something could happen that would throw their lives abruptly in a new direction.  And they waited, eagerly, for the day the war would be over and they would be together again in peace.

Those who were caught up in the war, far away from home, had doubts and griefs that weighed them down even while they were fighting and kept them up at night when they should have been resting.  But still they risked it all, over and over again, because they knew that the only way to win...the only way to be together again in peace...was to fight.

Today we celebrate those who gave their lives; and those who, though they did not pay the ultimate price, sacrificed some of the prime years of their lives to fight for our country.  And, indirectly, the families who suffered without them to defend liberty - both ours and others'.  It is because of them that I can stand in the dining room at a state-run facility and lead a worship service; and share the gospel with residents; and pray with the staff; and sing hymns with the bus driver.

Yesterday we honored veterans at a special service at the nursing home. When I was asked "Why are you doing it today, when Memorial Day is tomorrow?"  This was my answer:
Most of the time we are Christmas Christians, concentrating on the parts of His story that make us feel good. The homey and familiar and comfortable; a baby in a manger surrounded by placidly curious animals as a bright, warm light shines down from above. We see Jesus as the Gentle Healer, the Miracle Worker who wept at his friend's grave, and who extended the love and forgiveness of God beyond the Jews; from Jerusalem to Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8).
 
But today we remember that, from His very arrival, the war was on.  His birth prompted the slaughter of the Innocents, His life divided even His own earthly family, and His ministry revealed the true hearts of the religious leaders; jealous, power-hungry schemers without a shred of actual faith in the God they claimed to represent.

When Jesus came to earth, He came not to bring peace, but a sword (Matt 10:34).  And while He was here on earth, He fought not only against flesh and blood enemies, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness (Eph. 6:12) and even faced the devil himself. 

These battles were grueling.  In His humanity he required hours in prayer while His disciples rested.  He was on-call 24/7, even in His few hours of sleep. In the Garden of Gethsemane he agonized in prayer over the final battle, and sweat drops of blood.  Even so, even as the Messiah, Very God of Very God, He was taken prisoner by the enemy and tortured, and finally killed in action. 

That's sobering alright.  But the truly amazing part is that, like the pictures my grandfather and his compatriots treasured in the Great War, OUR pictures were in the mind of the Saviour during His tour of duty in the Greatest War Ever Fought.

We aren't perfect by any means.  Our selfishness, pride, and willful clinging to sin grieved His Spirit even when He was in the thick of battle and weighed Him down on the cross.  We fret when we don't know what's going on "up there" and fear the changes in the Plan which might send our life spinning out of our control, choosing fear over faith. And, sadly, there are some who know of His fight and yet send him a "Dear Jesus" letter, so they can be free to pursue other interests: a final rejection that ends the relationship; and along with it, their hope of the world to come.

He knew all of that.  And yet, in His mind, His economy, we were the ones worth dying for. And so He humbled Himself and was obedient even to death.  Jesus went from the garden to the torture to the cross, because He knew that the only way we could be together with Him in peace was to give His life.  Our only chance of life was His death, and so He paid the price, because you...and I....were worth dying for.
Remember, and marvel.
And thank Him for His Amazing, Unfathomable Grace.....

Just For Fun

I was speaking with a colleague of mine the other day, and she said, "You seem delighted to be there." [at the Community Care Center].  And I realized that I truly am.   I watch the visitors, and I see how their eyes dart warily from one resident to another, and they scuttle on by. And I wish they could see through my eyes for just a few minutes.  There are so many delightful people here; illness and medication issues just serve to enhance their natural quirks.  Let me introduce you:

This week, the resident I call "KitKat" (he has a real name but generally prefers to be called KitKat) saw me before Bible Study and hurried excitedly over.
"Debbe, my friend!  I have some exciting news to tell you!"
I waited for the grand unveiling as he marshaled his thoughts and took a deep breath.
"I'm going to get married, and I want you to come to my wedding. Yes, uh huh, and your husband too and all the kids.  And I want you to come to the party and bake something delicious to bring. It's going to be a big party!  I have it all planned out.  On the 18th of August, 2014, I'm going to pop the question.  Uh huh, yeah.  And on October 31, 2014, we're going to get married and I'm going to sing forty-seven songs including "You've lost that lovin' feeling" and "Unchained Melody" and the theme song from "Titanic" and my own version of Little Drummer Boy and..."
"Hold on, hold on! KitKat!  Wait a moment there!  There's something I want to know!"
"Uh huh, yeah. What's that?"
"What's her NAME????!!!"
He looks at me blankly.  "Who?"
"The lucky WOMAN!  The one you're marrying!" It could have been anyone; he's had crushes on most of the staff and a number of the residents at one point or another.
And he leans in close so has not to be overheard and whispers, "I don't know yet.  I have to meet her first."
Yes, well, at least he's thinking about that.

Later, when I was speaking with our Bible study leader, I was still chuckling about KitKat.  one of the aides wheeled Sally in and brought her up next to the table where we were talking.  Sally's from downstairs and was miffed that she'd been in therapy and missed Bible Study.  She glared at us and snapped.  "Bible Study's over now: You two get out of here.  Go on - shoo!  You're in my parking spot."

Yes, Ma'am.  

And how could I not love Bill, who greets me with big grins and says "Hi, Beautiful!" and Tad who prays for me (Imagine - someone who prays for the chaplain) and Abe who calls me "Kid" and kisses my hand because I once gave him a back scratcher he really liked. And Mr. Lewis who knows I 'belong there' somehow and figures I must be the housekeeper and keeps asking me for more toilet paper and shaving cream.  And Deloris who says "Don't feed the birds no more - it draws squirrels. I hate squirrels."  And Abbie the Joke Lady and Sherrie who talks absolutely constantly and never makes a lick of sense. And of course, Pastor Brown and his never-ending schemes to get more chicken in his diet and Josef from Africa who honors me and the kids with his rare words.

There are of course, many griefs and sorrows and just plain unfairnesses there. Watching someone you've come to love struggle and slip away is hard.  Even harder is showing up for your regular visit only to find that the name is gone from the room and the resident has gone - home or into eternity - and everyone forgot to tell you.  But those things pale in comparison to the vast richness of the lives I'm privileged to peek into every time.  I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse too.
Debbe

One of Those Things

A few posts ago, I said I'd put up some stories of what I have been doing with Pastor Brown's Bible, and then I got sidetracked.  Here's the first one.

Our classical, Christian homeschool co-op meets once a week, and each week begins with announcements and hymns in the chapel. At the beginning, one of our families stands and leads the rest of us in reciting the Pledge to the Bible, the Pledge of Allegiance, and a prayer.  When it was our family's turn, I used Pastor Brown's Bible, and our photographer took a photo for me.  Those are my four youngest children with me.
In case you're wondering, here's the Pledge to the Bible:
"I pledge allegiance to the Bible: God's Holy Word.  I will make it a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path; I will hide its word in my heart that I might not sin against God."
Amen.