.On Aging Gracefully.

Something happens when, as a young adult, you spend time in a nursing home. Especially when the person you have come to see is beloved…

Everything material melts away. All those ambitions you had for losing weight and looking better than your friends become stupid. The question of what to wear tomorrow vanishes. The self-pity that was about to swallow you shrinks back to a manageable size when you stop, and think about someone else.

Last night I had the pleasure of spending an hour at a nursing home. I had the privilege of hearing Grandma tell stories of Dad’s first piano lesson, how she used to do her hair, and all the things you can do with flowers. She is in a wheelchair now. She suffered bleeding on her brain, and has a broken pelvis. Her mental faculties have lost some of their sharpness. Her hands tremble. But she still sings the praises of our Lord.

Twice in that hour she broke into prayer, and twice she started singing hymns of praise to Jesus. Her words of faith in the midst of her pain and confusion touched and convicted my heart in a way that I needed so very much. To see my troubles as small and stupid is the best thing that could have happened to me last night. To realize that when the rest of life and all its trappings fade away, the true person is all that will be left.

Questions  linger in my mind… when it’s my turn, who will they see? Whose praises will I sing? Or will I sing at all? Is there any place where God is not, or does not see?

Grandma Badeer told me another story. It’s the one where a Christian lady goes to a Good Samaritan nursing home to recover from bleeding on her brain, and God uses her in a mighty way. “That Mrs. Badeer, she is not like the other girls,” the Skill Care Staff said, “not at all.”  

[re-posted this week, originally composed July 29, 2008]

.an empty doorway and a maple leaf.

"For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf."
-- Archibald MacLeish, "Ars Poetica"


“Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak
whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.”
-- William Shakespeare


Give sorrow words. But which words shall I chose? The happy words of the past or the sorrowful ones that present me every morning? Shall I tell you about her favorite Christmas dress with the little red canaries? Or should I simply weep knowing that she'll never wear it again? 

The Autumn leaves just started falling. They dance to the ground in celestial harmony, unaware of the gravestones between them. The casket, baby blue with paisley and flowers, lay silent above the ground as of yet, still and serene. The very print spoke her name to me. It is just like her. It holds her now, still and sleeping while her soul has gone on to be with her Lord. Truly, she has the better end of this deal. Now in glory with her Lord, we are left behind on this earth with remembrance, and nothing more. A pretty casket, lowered into a quiet stone vault and a headstone with her name: Miriam Kassarjian Badeer. Such is life.

There are no words to put to grief. Perhaps it's just that they haven't found me yet. Perhaps another look at the fresh dirt will bring the healing tears about. Perhaps.

Life marches on at an alarming speed. There's work to be done, people with needs, demands to be met, and promises to keep. The sun shines as though it doesn't care if it's raining in my heart. The leaves continue their divine dance through the Fall breeze, reminding me that all is not lost. The same God that orchestrates their colors and shapes has a design and plan for my brief time here on earth.Though that plan will end with my body in the grave, that is not it's goal. Life is worth the toil, grief and struggle because it is not the only thing we have to look forward to. It's only the beginning. One day, each of us will step through the doorway of death into eternity. Grandma Badeer has walked through it into glory. Hospice care and nursing homes are history. She is whole again. I cannot grieve for her, but I can grieve for the loss of her in my life. She has stepped into eternity, and those who love her are left to wait their turn.

"Life is real! Life is earnest!
        And the grave is not its goal;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
        Was not spoken of the soul." 

        -- H.W. Longfellow, "The Psalm of Life,"

A Grave Matter {part two}

 The sun shone with the yellow glow of Spring today - all the grass is suddenly green, and the tulips will be blooming any day now. Grandpa bought each grandchild a plant as a parting gift when Grandma passed away almost a year ago. The cheerful yellows and pinks last May seemed irreverent on that rainy day of the funeral. We donned trench coats and wore eyes red with tears standing next to the grave-site. Now the curly green leaves are popping up through the soil that's been bathed in sunlight. Soon the flowers will bloom again. Though nascent, that life will soon be testifying to the new birth of the season, and the hope of resurrection. 

 Today, on Easter Sunday, we celebrate the physical, historical resurrection of our LORD. More than something that brings a smile and a tear on the holiday itself, the resurrection gives us a real hope. The Scripture is replete with the promise of the life to come; it goes so far as to tell us that the real point of living IS eternity. It is the world [and it's prince] that have taught us to repeat the lies of materialism, body-worship, idol-worship, defeatism, hopelessness, depression, and everything that comes with those Evildoers. The Greeks taught us to think that the next life is something completely mystical - a sort of haze that the spirit will enter and fly around in - and resemble the sunday school images of golden roads and glory so bright you'll grasp for sunglasses. Since they believed the body to be a sort of painful bondage that they spirit is packaged in, the emphasis has slipped completely onto the spiritual man, leaving the body to return to the dust.

But aren't we missing something? 

Didn't Mary see Jesus after his death and burial in His body? Didn't Thomas put his hands where the nails had pierced? It was no accident that the prophecy of Psalm 2 was fulfilled in His bodily resurrection: He did not undergo decay. He ascended into the heavens instead, where He now sits at the right hand of the Father Almighty. 

"For if we have become united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall be like Him in His resurrection.."                Romans 6:5

 We're so good at religious visualization. We see Christ on the cross, dying an agonizing death for us, as the only One who could satisfy the wrath of a Holy God.  Can we see Him outside the empty tomb? Do we picture Him victorious, seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty? Friends, we ought to. For that is where He is right now, at this moment.

He has conquered the grave! That is the blessed news of Easter, beloved of God. What does that mean for you and I when we wake up to a new day? The sun will shine down, smiling on the green grass, and those curly little greens will send up shoots that will bloom in beauty. The tulips tell the Easter story, too. Are you listening?

^"Therefore, my brethren, you also were made to die to the Law through the body of Christ, so that you might be joined to another, to Him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit for God."                    Romans 7:4 

A Grave Matter {part one}

One day {soon}, the mist of our lives will vanish. The puff of smoke that is my daily grind will float away and disappear. Life here on this earth will be over... in the blink of an eye. The shell that is the physical body will be buried on "Blue Hill," and I'll join the millions that have gone on before, their bodies buried beneath rugged headstones. The oldest ones are covered in moss, and you can hardly read the names anymore. Such is our fate, friend. A single glance in the mirror will confirm that we're getting older; we're slowly marching toward that great day, when we'll stare eternity in the face.

 For now, most of us are content to pretend that such a day will never come. "I've got plenty of time," you say to yourself, "I'm just getting started! They say I've got my whole life to live yet..." and we run off to entertain ourselves. The latest fashion, the newest gadgets, the coolest cell phones, or that favorite TV show are so much more tantalizing than your little sister who needs quality time, the package that you've been meaning to send to a friend, that 30 minutes you said you'd spend reading the Word.

What are the things {words, thoughts, deeds} that will last for eternity?

And what things {popular, material, worldly} are the hay and stubble of this life?

Driving through town in a whirl, I couldn't help but notice the cemetery. The headstones all lined up, looking solemn in the fog and rain. They have something to say to me: the struggles and frustrations of today won't last forever. The stuff of life isn't all there is. The wild-goose chase of the nine to five job is not something you do for it's own sake. To earn money to spend on pretty things is missing the point. You can't take it with you.

To hear those words echo in my head has been healthy. Indeed, if life is nothing more than the daily stuff we grind through down here, we have no reason to do anything but sorrow, and look for pleasure while it may be found. The good news is, there's more. Much more.


"Our personal relationship with the Father through our union with Christ is not only what makes us live forever; it is also what  makes it worthwhile to live that long."          -- Dr. Donald Williams, "Credo," pg. 120