Emerging from a Hard Season of Dementia, Pandemic, and Death

Carlen Maddux and I have forged a friendship as the result of our common experiences in caring for our beloved spouses. I am blessed by Carlen’s insights, wisdom, and support. I am honored that he chose to interview me recently and post this article on his website.

http://www.carlenmaddux.com/blog/emerging-from-a-hard-season-of-dementia-pandemic-and-death?fbclid=IwAR1h-XAXHba5a_oDEju5sxPG-oPL7mgsa34sYEUrcsCilZZHIGnY6jGgapI

Uncounted Victims of COVID-19

COVID-19 casualties, counted and uncounted, are mushrooming and getting closer to home!

Our family had a scare last week. Sandra, my daughter, is a social worker in a skilled nursing facility. She was exposed to the virus and developed familiar symptoms. We all anxiously waited three days for the test results. Fortunately, she tested NEGATIVE.

Among the many uncounted casualties are those who live and work in nursing homes like the one where Sandra serves and the one across the street from me.

Sandra eagerly returned to work Monday. She loves her work, her colleagues, the residents and their families.

Lowman across street

I live on the campus of a beautiful continuous care retirement community. Across the street is the nursing facility, where approximately 140 residents are cared for by a dedicated team of caring staff members.

I see family members come to the windows of their loved ones and press their hands against the pane. I watch as staff members arrive for their long shifts and leave exhausted. I hear the sirens of emergency vehicles arriving and realize someone is in crisis.

But this is only a microcosm of the realities in the approximately 15,000 nursing homes in the United States where  1.4 million people are cared for by approximately 1,663,000 employees.

Only a small percentage of the residents in nursing homes have the COVID-19 virus. However, many residents are showing increasing signs of depression and failure to thrive as the result of isolation from loved ones.

Family members are growing increasingly stressed and frustrated by the imposed guidelines and policies.

I wonder if the confusion and agitation of those with Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia is intensifying.

Family members of those nearing death plead to be permitted to keep vigil beside the bed of their spouse and/or parent. Thousands are dying with only the staff present to comfort them. I can only imagine the added pain of family members as they now grieve without having had the opportunity to hold their loved one’s hand and whisper “I love you” as a final goodbye.

The medical staff, social workers, and administrators are caught between regulatory guidelines and policies and the relational needs of residents and families. They are taking on added responsibilities way outside their job descriptions: administrators substituting as beauticians and CNAs; social workers becoming conflict mediators and surrogate family members; chaplains sweeping floors and delivering meals; housekeepers assisting with bathing and feeding.

I would like to help. My ability to respond is limited. After all, I’m in the vulnerable age group myself. But I’ve decided that I can do something:

  • I can wear my mask and observe the CDC guidelines so that I don’t add to the workload of healthcare workers, or spread the disease to others.
  • I can pray each day for the staff and residents and the family members, and I now consider each siren a call to prayer.
  • I can walk past the windows with my dog, Millie, and wave at the persons inside.
  • I can speak and write words of appreciation to the staff and not complain if I am inconvenienced by their preoccupation with their added workload.
  • I can communicate with legislators for more attention and resources for the frail elderly, including nursing homes.
  • I can call and/or write to family members I know who are caring for frail persons.
  • I can plant and cultivate flowers in my own lawn that are visible to the residents and staff, providing some glimmer of beauty.
  • I can make an added contribution to agencies that advocate and serve the frail elderly.
  • I can work for systemic changes in attitudes toward and treatment of the elderly, especially the most frail.

And, we all can “love our neighbor as ourselves,” including our neighbors who live and work in nursing homes and their families. They, too, are victims of COVID-19.

 

 

 

 

 

Living Among Those Most At Risk of COV-19

The devastation of COVID-19 moved close to home this week. I am across the street from one of the “hot spots” in South Carolina.

I live in a continuing care community. It was announced that 32 residents and two staff members in the healthcare facility have tested positive for the virus. They are housed only a few hundred yards from where I am “sheltered in place.”

I watch as staff members occasionally come outside for a break. A few times, I’ve spotted a family member appearing outside the window, attempting to provide support and comfort.

And, my daughter is the director of social services in a nearby long-term care facility. Although her facility has no cases, at least yet, the building is in lock-down; and she worries about either unknowingly bringing the virus in or taking it home to her family.

Those across the street are my close neighbors. Many of the staff members are friends. I have worshiped with them, joked with them, shared ministry with them.  Now they are putting their lives on the line.

I feel powerless to respond! I can’t visit. Even notes and cards from the outside are forbidden. The campus chaplain is there for spiritual support. She is marvelous! Sensitive! Compassionate!

I can and do pray for them. But, are there ways I can provide concrete answers to those prayers?

It is a small thing, but I’m going to get more flowers for my backyard since the residents can look down from their rooms. We all need beauty, especially when surrounded by grief and potential death.

I’ll be intentional in providing words of support for the staff, and I’ll be patient if I have needs that aren’t met quickly or efficiently.

I will also abide by the CDC guidelines and protect myself against the virus and avoid carrying the virus to others.  I’ve added those practices as “spiritual disciplines” and acts of love. I’ll wear a mask in public out of respect for the health of others.

I will also advocate for the most vulnerable and those on the frontlines of care. That means insisting that policies in response to the pandemic be based on science and facts, not on political expediency and selfish advantage.

There is a lot of dangerous religious nonsense circulating with the pandemic. Claiming that the virus is God’s punishment only adds to the suffering and totally mischaracterizes the nature and action of God.

The notion that God is inflicting the virus on my neighbors across the street is blatant blasphemy; and any who suggests such are insulting God and my neighbors.

God is present amid the pandemic, suffering with those most at risk and sustaining those who care for them. God is also present in those researchers and practitioners who are diligently seeking therapies and vaccines.

As I sit in my sunroom and look across the street where several neighbors live with COVID-19, I sense that life will never be the same for them or us.

I pray that we will so live among those most at risk that we will emerge from the pandemic a more compassionate people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God Redeems the Silent and Dark Places

As a pastor, I largely overlooked Holy Saturday as an essential part of the divine drama of Holy Week. It was a welcomed day of rest after the intensity of Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday.

Not this year! This year the silence and darkness between Friday’s crucifixion and Sunday’s resurrection speaks poignantly to where I am.

Within the last six months I’ve lost my wife of 58 years and an older brother, plus a beloved bishop friend, and two colleague/mentors. Treasured voices have been silenced and the places they occupied have become a dark void.

Added to the void is the isolation of a global pandemic. The wait for release from imposed aloneness is more than three days! We don’t know when it will end. When it does end, life will be different; but the shape of that difference remains unknown.

So, I identify more closely with the disciples on that first Holy Saturday. They were locked behind closed doors. Grieving! Afraid! Lonely! Confused! Apprehensive! Waiting!

Death creates silent and dark places for all of us. All losses are accompanied by silence and darkness.

Life itself is filled with unanswered questions, unfulfilled dreams, unwelcomed loneliness.

It is into all those silent and dark places that Christ enters on Holy Saturday. The ancient creed affirms that Jesus “descended to the dead” and “the gospel was proclaimed even to the dead” (1 Peter 4:6).

In the death of Jesus, God has claimed even the silent and dark places as realms of divine love and promise.

On that first Holy Saturday, the disciples were together in their silence and darkness.

We, too, are together emotionally even though physically separated. It is in our togetherness that God comes in our silent and dark places.

The author of 1 Peter offered this word of encouragement as we wait in silence and darkness: “Above all, maintain constant love for one another.”

Love speaks in the silence and shines light in the darkness!

 

 

 

 

 

Good Friday Prayer

Gary Phillips, the pastor of Salem United Methodist Church where our family participates, has invited members of the congregation to offer daily prayers during April as part of the church website. I was asked to offer the prayer on this Good Friday. You may access the video of the prayer here: http://www.salemumcsc.com/

I offer the printed prayer as follows:

Loving and Eternal God, in the Crucified Jesus, you entered the depth and breadth of the world’s suffering and brokenness and into humanity’s sin and frailty. On the cross, you took on the principalities and powers of sin and death with courage, humility, and boundless love.

You responded to hatred, violence, and bigotry with compassion and forgiveness. You met the abuse of power by religious and political leaders with the power of love. Amid the anguish and pain, you reached out to a dying malefactor with the promise of paradise; you cared for your grieving mother; and you endured abuse and cruelty with magnanimity.

O Crucified Christ, remind us

  • that no suffering is so traumatic that it cannot be redeemed
  • that our deepest loneliness is known by you
  • that no sin is so horrible but that you can forgive
  • that our death has been swallowed up in your victory
  • that you are with us through the dark valley of grief and loss

We praise you, O God, that in Christ Jesus you have defeated the powers of sin and death and opened to us a new future

  • where love reigns supreme,
  • justice and truth prevail,
  • hope vanishes despair and,
  • life outlasts death.

Through the presence and power of your Holy Spirit, create in us the mind that was in Christ Jesus and enable us to follow him with devotion and faithfulness.

In his name we offer our prayer. Amen

 

Grieving in Isolation

The COVID-19 pandemic compounds and complicates the grief process. It’s as though the whole world is in mourning.

Many are dying alone in hospitals and healthcare facilities cutoff from families.  Funeral services and comforting embraces are limited.

There is a solitude inherit in grief itself. Others may empathetically bear some of sorrow’s weight; but the deepest pain is privately borne.

Yet, we need the comfort that comes from physically connecting with one another — warm embraces, a clasp of the hand, a smile on the lips, or tears in the eyes.

Friday will mark six months since Linda’s death. The intensity of the sadness has subsided and the waves of sorrow wash over me less often. Adjusting to life without her presence remains a daily challenge.

The “social distancing” and isolation are having an impact on my own grieving.  I grieve for and with those who are infected with the COVID-19 virus and their families. The sheer number of casualties is breathtaking.  But they are more than numbers; they are mothers, fathers, spouses, children, friends, colleagues, family.

I feel a certain kinship with them, a solidarity that is deepened by my own loss. There is a strange comfort in such solidarity, a sense of connection with others who grieve. I understand more fully the Beatitude, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

The isolation is forcing me to revisit and work through painful memories. Prior to the onset of the pandemic, my busyness had enabled me to avoid fully coming to grips with some guilt, regrets, and other negative components of grieving.

Now I can’t escape them. The long hours of solitude and silence bring buried thoughts and  emotions to the surface. I’m naming them as they arise, reflecting prayerfully, and sharing them in telephone conversations and messages with family and close friends.

Although I am alone most of the time, I’m not really isolated in my grieving. I remain connected in multiple bonds of love and friendship. And, I’ve committed to reaching out to others who are grieving. With the pandemic, “others” includes almost everyone.

A hymn we sing often at Bethany, the memory care facility where I serve as volunteer chaplain, is “Blest be the Tie That Binds.” We always include this verse:

We share each other’s woes,

our mutual burdens bear;

and often for each other flows,

the sympathizing tear.

Let us find ways of sharing our grief even in this time of isolation. In so doing, we may come to know “the peace that passes understanding.”

 

 

Sermon on Mount: My Lenten Discipline

This is the fourth year that daily engagement with the Sermon on the Mount has been part of my Lenten discipline.

Each morning I read and reflect on about half of one of the three chapters, which means that it takes six mornings for me to complete the Sermon. Once I complete the chapters, I repeat the sequence. Only this time I read the passages in a different translation or paraphrase.

I ask myself these two questions each morning: Where do I see this being lived by me and/or others? In what situations have I failed to live this way? Throughout the day, I look for examples of faithfulness to and betrayals of Jesus’s vision.

Intentionally holding up my life against Jesus’s life and teaching sensitizes, inspires, and challenges me toward what John Wesley called “holiness of heart and life” and “the entire love of God shed abroad in our hearts.”

I am reminded of the quote from General Omar Bradley from the mid twentieth century:

“Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants. We know more about war than we know about peace, more about killing than we know about living. We have grasped the mystery of the atom and rejected the Sermon on the Mount.”

The contrast today is even more stark! Values, behaviors, and practices opposite those clearly expressed in Jesus’s Sermon and his life have become normalized. The contrast is nowhere more publicly obvious that in today’s political discourse and behaviors by prominent people.

If the Sermon on the Mount contains the vision of life as Jesus lived and invites us to live, it is essential that Jesus’s disciples make the Sermon the basis of our decisions and actions.

The Sermon on the Mount, however, is more than a statement of ethical expectations. It is a revelation of the very nature and action of God. It reveals how God acts in the world.

Therefore, the Sermon is an invitation to live as God lives in the world. Theologian Stanley Hauerwas states it clearly:

The basis for the ethics of the Sermon on the Mount is not what works but rather the way God is. Cheek-turning is not advocated as what works (it usually does not), but advocated because this is the way God is – God is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. This is not a stratagem for getting what we want but the only manner of life available, now that, in Jesus, we have seen what God wants. We seek reconciliation with the neighbor, not because we feel so much better afterward, but because reconciliation is what God is doing in the world through Christ.

Perhaps the Sermon on the Mount won’t “work” in a world like this. That’s the point! If we live the Sermon on the Mount, the world won’t be like this!

 

Prayer in the Aftermath of the Nashville Tornado

Having experienced a tornado while living in Nashville and knowing something of the shock waves of grief, loss, uncertainty, and hard work resulting from such devastation, I offer the following prayer. I know that individuals and congregations in that great city will pull together and courageously reach out to one another with compassion and helpfulness.

O God, our help and hope in every time of distress, we bring before you our concern and grief over the devastating losses experienced by the people of Nashville from the powerful tornado. We know not even how to pray, for our groans are deeper than words can express.

Assure us that you know our thoughts, that you accept our inaudible petitions, our prayers of anguish and lament, and bewilderment in the face of incomprehensible tragedy. Remind us and the suffering people of Nashville that you do not desert us; but in times of desperate need, you are ever present to comfort and restore.

Console those who mourn, give shelter to those who are displaced, reunite those separated from loved ones, and give hope to those who seem to have lost hope. With your healing power, touch those who are injured, and grant confidence to those now uncertain about the future.  To all rescue workers and recovery volunteers, give wisdom, endurance, patience, and perseverance.

We pray  for pastors and congregations who embody your presence in ministries of compassion and mercy among the displaced people left homeless and defenseless by the ravaging winds. May they know the peace that passes understanding and be strengthened by supportive embraces and expressions of love from colleagues and friends.

O Crucified and Risen Lord, remind us that love triumphs through suffering and no turbulent wind can destroy the bond of love.  Because of your decisive victory over the powers of sin and death, life will prevail over death, hope over despair, love and justice will win over indifference and exploitation.

For you, O God, are “our help in ages past and our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast and our eternal home.”

We pray through Jesus the Christ, who’s present and coming reign of compassion, justice, generosity, and joy, we celebrate and anticipate with hope. Amen

 

“From Dust to Dust”

Ash Wednesday

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return!”

I’ve said those words countless times as I placed ashes and the sign of the cross on the forehead of worshipers. And, I’ve had them spoken to me at the beginning of Lent for decades.

But this year the words have a particular poignancy. Linda, with whom my life has been deeply intertwined in a profound bond of love for six decades, has too quickly returned “to dust” from which she came.

Within the last five years, death has claimed my wife, my mother, sister, brother, brother-in-law,  uncle, aunt, several friends, colleagues, and neighbors.

On this Ash Wednesday, “To dust you shall return”  sounds and feels more like a personal medical prognosis than a routine religious ritual.

The circle is drawing closer. Life is narrowing. Energy is lessening. Capacities are diminishing. Frailty lies on the horizon. Time is running out.

I know this seems grim and foreboding. But, Ash Wednesday and Lent are about confronting the reality that we all live with the dust from which we came and the dust to which we return.

Life is always Frail! Fragile! Fleeting!

Yet, there is a strange freedom in acknowledging our own frailty and mortality. The idols of control, self aggrandizement, and invincibility are stripped away.

What’s left amid the ashes of crumbling idols is Grace! Gift! God!

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” are words spoken in community as we are marked with the sign of Cross.

The One who breathes into the dust from which we came redeems the dust to which we return.

So, we are not alone on our journey from dust. . . to dust!

And, we journey toward a new heaven and new earth where “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more . . .” (Revelation 21:4).

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Criminal INJUSTICE System



In the late 1970s, Tennessee Governor Ray Blanton promised to pardon the son of a political ally who had been convicted of the murder of his ex-wife and her male companion. A firestorm of protest erupted, embroiling the Democratic governor in controversy that transcended political affiliation.

In an attempt to calm the political storm, Governor Blanton appointed a “Blue Ribbon Committee” to make a recommendation regarding his decision to pardon the convicted man.

I was asked to serve on the committee, which included a forensic psychiatrist, a Vanderbilt law professor, a couple of state senators, persons experienced with the pardon and parole system, a newspaper publisher, state representatives, and a couple of business people.

After thorough review of the case and hearing from relevant witnesses, the committee recommended against the pardon. We unanimously agreed that he did not meet the standard guidelines and that the proposed pardon was clearly a political payoff.

We felt that granting a unilateral pardon for obvious political payback subverted the criminal justice system and undermined confidence in its fairness.

Contrary to his promise to the committee, the governor pardoned the man along with more than fifty others during his last week in office.

Governor-Elect Lamar Alexander was sworn in three days prior to the official inauguration in order to prevent more such pardons.

Republican Alexander’s early swearing in was made possible by the U.S. attorney representing the Department of Justice, the lieutenant governor and state Speaker of the House, both Democrats.

After leaving office, Governor Blanton was convicted of mail fraud, conspiracy, and extortion for selling liquor licenses, and he served twenty-two months in a federal penitentiary.

Memory of this episode from forty years ago resurfaced with the news of President Trump granting pardons and/or clemency to duly tried-and-convicted, high-profile, white-collar criminals.

As Mark Twain said, “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.”

The recent actions by President Trump clearly rhymes with the Blanton experience. Both reflect the gross inequities within the criminal justice system and the abuse of power for purely political purposes.

1186px-Johnny-automatic-scales-of-justice.svg

The scales of justice are demonstrably weighted in favor of the economically and politically privileged. It’s more about how much money you have, the color of your skin, and who you know than what you do that determines your fate in the current system.

A glaring difference between the Blanton case and the current president’s actions is public response.

Forty years ago, Republicans and Democrats in Tennessee together demanded action from their political leaders on behalf of fundamental justice. Now, protest is largely muted and clearly partisan.

Has advocacy for simple fairness and equity become merely a politically partisan issue?

I wonder if Senator Lamar Alexander remembers that he was inaugurated governor three days early because leaders of the opposing political party put justice above party?

Are corruption and cronyism now acceptable, if it is done by OUR party?

Have we now normalized a criminal injustice system?

Is political party affiliation now the final arbiter of what is right?

Have we become a nation “where nobody is above the law,” EXCEPT the economically secure, politically connected, and racially privileged?

Is the Pledge of Allegiance a meaningless ritual for opening sports and civic events? What about “one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for ALL”?

The prophet Micah lived in a time when justice was weighted against the poor, and religious leaders were complicit with the prevailing injustice. Micah cautioned that such injustice has disastrous consequences and warned of impending national collapse.

But the prophet’s warning included God’s alternative:

[God] 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 (6:8)

And this word from the Psalmist merits our attention:

Blessed are those who act justly, who always do what is right.” (106:3 NIV)

May our actions rhyme with the words of the Prophet and the Psalmist, more than with our partisan politics.