"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.

Keeping Me On My Toes

...For God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things that are strong....
I Corinthians 1:27

This past Saturday was the day before Easter.  My husband was on Worship Team for the Saturday evening service, and it was not a terribly convenient time for a trip south of Tacoma.  But on Saturday nights I go and sit with Pastor Brown (see previous posts) during his dialysis treatment.  I got ready to go, and as I was walking out the door, I felt prompted to take him communion.

That's silly,  I said to myself. He'll be going to church tomorrow.  But I couldn't argue my way out of it, so I went back for the Communion cups. We had just done communion at the Community Care Center (CCC) and so I had a few hermetically sealed communion cups left. I tossed a couple in my basket and off I went.

Pastor Brown hasn't been to church in a year or so.  First he had some health problems and couldn't get his shoes on.  Then, once that cleared up, he was waiting for his dentures to arrive (which took about 15 months).  But now he has both shoes and teeth, and he'd said he was ready to go to church on Easter.  I expected him to be excited and smiling, but he wasn't.  He looked up at me from under his blanket, greeted me morosely, and made some halfhearted small talk.

I asked him what was wrong, and he said nothing, but I persisted and finally he gave in.
"I ain't goin' to no church tomorrow," he told me with a lugubrious sigh.
"What?  Why not?  You have your teeth...and you got your shoes on...."
"Yeah, but...." his lips worked and he swallowed a couple times.  "This week I fell down and broke my collarbone.  It hurts to sit up in my chair for very long.  So I can't go."
I commiserated with him for a while, but he fell silent, staring out at the rain.
"Pastor Brown, before I left tonight, I thought God was telling me to bring you communion.  So I brought it with me.  Would you like to take communion together, to celebrate Easter?"

His eyes flickered up and he admitted, "Yes, I surely would. I can't tell you when was the last time I took communion. Give me a minute to get ready."

So I went to the nurses to check and see whether it was OK to give him communion, and they were completely intrigued and asked me all kinds of questions about it.

When he was prepared, I opened up my/his Bible and read several verses, ending with I Corinthians 11:23-26.  At the appropriate places, I said, "This is His body, broken for you, Nathaniel," and handed him the wafer. And "This is his blood, spilt for you, Nathaniel," and gave him the cup.

And all the nurses watched "unobtrusively" from across the aisle.

When he was finished with the cup, we prayed for quite some time, and his prayers got stronger and more cheerful, until he ended, in his usual fashion, "Amen and Amen...In Jesus' name: thank the Lord."

Afterward, there were tears in his eyes as he said, "Thank you so much for doing that with me.  You have no idea how much I've needed that refreshment. "
And behind him, the head nurse shook her head and said, just a little too loudly, "First time I ever seen that - communion at a kidney center."
And Pastor Brown glared at her  "For as often as we eat of this bread and drink of this cup, we proclaim the Lord's death until He comes.  Anyplace and anytime. And that's a fact."
I guess he told her.
There's always something new to keep me on my toes.  I didn't know that Pastor Brown would be unable to go to church on Easter, but God knew, and He hadn't forgotten him. 
"I will never leave you nor forsake you."
Matthew 28:20
Amen and Amen. In Jesus' name: Thank the Lord.

Magnify the Lord

Right now, at this moment, two million US adults are living in nursing homes. Another 900,000 reside in smaller adult care homes, and untold thousands live in Assisted Living communities or are being cared for by family. And they’re just the tip of the iceberg.  Every day, another 10,000 people in the US turn 65.

The numbers are impressive, but when you try to calculate the cost of long-term care for all those folks, it becomes staggering. The US Government spends over 75 billion dollars a year on long term health care; paying for almost 60% of all expenses. Data shows that health care costs are generally higher at the end of life; a disproportionately large percentage of all Medicare expenditures are incurred during the year prior to death.

As the world seeks cost effective alternatives to reduce end-of-life care expenses, the church must realize that euthanasia is on their list. And yet, more than 90% of US churches have no recognized (budgeted) outreach ministry to residents of nursing homes and long-term-care facilities.

But Christ’s Church Cares!

Our C.A.R.E. Ministry has received funding from the elders as a recognized ministry of the church, providing Christ-centered, Scripture-based worship services and weekly Bible Studies, as well as one-on-one visits.

It’s easy to see the necessity of the corporate gatherings to residents who may have attended church weekly throughout their lives. But why are the one-on-one visits so vitally important?

Although we tend to see a large number of long-term residents in our services, the stunning fact is that, of those two million people living in a nursing home, two-thirds will die this year.

And of the ones who are left,

33% are suffering from some form of depression.

This is not hard to understand. Residents are fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, businessmen, teachers, realtors, pastors. People who once ran families, businesses, churches, and military units. They’ve lost health, mobility, and independence, and must rely on staff to meet their most basic needs. But even more than that, they feel they’ve been abandoned.

80% have fewer than one visitor per week

35% will not see a loved one after their second week.

When your family and friends and everyone you’ve loved and served all your life fades away, it is very easy to conclude that God has abandoned you as well.

Do you see how important this ministry is? 

Can you imagine what a powerful encouragement it is that someone knows their name? That someone touches them when it’s not their job to do it? This is the power of the one-on-one visits, that say “I came to see you because you’re important to God, and important to me!”

Psalm 34 says “Magnify the Lord with me.”  Magnifying something makes it easier to see; that is what we do with every smile, every touch, every word of Scripture. We make God easier for them to see.  Because we, who are strangers, love them, suddenly it’s not so hard to believe that God might still love them too. So come, and “Magnify the Lord with me!”

From the Heart(s)

Remember back in February when I made all those Valentines?  There's a post about it back in the history if you want to see a picture...
I have a follow-up report on some amazing results from that little craft project to share with you tonight.

Of the 45 valentines that went to residents that weekend, 20 were for people who are not regular attenders at our services; some even whose religious preference is not 'Christian.'  I took extra care with those, to use Scriptures that could not be considered proselytizing.  One of these went to Annie, a lady I visit with in the dementia unit every week just because I enjoy her immensely.  She has quite the vocabulary of swear words and is generally suspicious of religious persons, but she and I share a love of animals and plants and raising boys and we've slowly built a friendship.

Last week, she greeted me enthusiastically with "Hello there!  I've been thinking about you a lot this week, you being my chaplain and all."

Annie all of the sudden wanted to talk about God, and about an alarming incident she'd experienced, and we talked for more than an hour. This week she reported praying and telling God all about her issues.  When they brought her dinner in, they kicked me out (she'd rather talk than eat) but she followed me to the door and said, sadly, "Don't you think we could have a little prayer before you go? I'd like to."  This was new.  I took her hand, and we had a sweet time of prayer while her dinner reposed, uneaten, on her tray.

 

Do you know what made the difference?

 

Her Valentine.  I gave Annie Proverbs 17:17, just to be safe.  But after her enthusiastic greeting last week she said, "I've looked at that paper you left me with the verse a whole bunch of times. And I started thinking 'Boy I hope the chaplain comes by because I'm thinking the Gospel would do me a pile of good right now.'"

 

And that opened up the floodgates.  Until that time I'd only been hinting at Spiritual things with Annie.  I knew if I came across as pushy that she'd slam the door and, as she is deteriorating, it might never open again.  But I have probably been more reticent than I needed to be - I always am.  But God had mercy on me and this time Annie took the lead and came right out and asked ME for the gospel and prayer. 

 

After she told me that I realized that as I walk the halls and visit around, I've been seeing those Valentines everywhere.  Stuck on cork boards and taped on walls and magneted to fridge doors.  Mr. Lewis went along his hallway, stole half a dozen from his less cognizant neighbors and stuck them to his bathroom mirror with shaving cream, as a sort of wallpaper decoration.  

 

I have a confession to make: I almost didn't do them this year. I'm busier now than I was last year, and it seemed kind of a silly way to use my time.  Plus, I wasn't exactly sure how it went over last year.  But I didn't feel easy in my mind about not doing it, so I ended up carrying on, and boy am I glad! I won't think twice about it next year. You just never know.