​

Years ago, as a counseling intern, I worked in a local retirement community under the supervision of their nurturing chaplain.  She had devoted much of her life’s career to the service of older adults and by such, she had gained much wisdom.  Among the many valuable things I learned from her was this remarkable insight.  The illness that is most fatal among older adults is living with a lack of purpose.

We can all understand the need to feel we are contributing in some way.  We want to be valued and to recognize the value in others.  We want to feel like our lives have meaning and that by being here, we evoke something positive for those around us.  We also are aware that as folks age, changes can occur in housing arrangements, mobility needs, and health vulnerabilities that can deter social engagement.  In fact, we recognize at this time in our nation’s history, we must isolate our older adults in order to best shield them from the pandemic taking place.  So how might we also work to keep their emotional lives healthy?  How might we bear in mind the deep need for connection, purpose, and intergenerational engagement?

Valley Program for Aging Services (VPAS) and James Madison University’s Institute for Innovation in Health and Human Services (IIHHS) supports the Caregivers Community Network.  This is a one credit class that enables students to be trained to offer respite to caregivers of those 60 years old and older.  Students make weekly visits throughout the semester and engage older adults who are frail or living with dementia in evidence-based activities that stimulate the mind and lift the spirit.  Caregivers use these visits as respite to invite more balance and self-care into their own lives, which will then better equip them to care for those they love.

There are many benefits to this model, but the intergenerational component is worthy of praise.  There is a vitality that flows between these very different generations, and students find purpose in service learning, while those they visit find purpose in sharing their life stories and wisdom with the students.  We see time and again the merits of intergenerational interactions and how this positively contributes to the greater good of our society at large.

In light of the pandemic, students are currently no longer able to make these visits, and families are feeling this loss.  Out of this circumstance, students are being encouraged to think ‘outside of the box’ and find new ways to remain in contact with these families who are now even more confined.  Perhaps all of us can be reminded of the importance in staying socially engaged with those who are older and more vulnerable to social isolation.  Here is a list of ways to be socially supportive in healthy ways at this time.

1.  Snail mail!  Make a card yourself or engage children who are home from school in making cards.  Include newspaper cartoons, jokes and riddles, funny stories from your life!  Toss in some photos!  Toss in a stick of gum or a tea bag!  Tape the envelope closed rather than licking it shut!

2.  Phone calls! There is nothing like hearing the voice of one we care about!  Set up specific times to call not just to check in, but to share stories.  At the end of conversations, name a topic to talk about next time you chat! Read each other favorite poems! This will invite engagement in planning as well as the pleasure of having something to look forward to!

3.  Visit by phone but also while you are outside of a window!  Let your eyes and smiles meet!  What joy to see each other, if even through glass!

4.  There are some older adults who are not tech-savvy.  By phone, help them order meals that can be delivered to their door. Read them menus, order online, discuss how to make payments.  Similarly, groceries can be ordered online.  Perhaps you could help with pick up and again wave to these dear ones through the door upon delivery!

5.  For those who are tech-savvy, plan some times to face time, or play online games together.  Send them links of things you could both watch and discuss later!

6.  Mail them something they can work on and then mail back to you!  Have your children write a list of questions or make up a ‘mad libs’ they can fill in parts and you fill in parts!  Give them a story prompt like:  What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you in elementary school?  Be sure to enclose a stamped envelope for them to use to return!
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7.  Leave some springtime flowers on their front porch or by their apartment door!  

8.  Extend comfort.  Listen deeply and with patience.  Acknowledge the difficulty of this time, but also highlight the good efforts all around us.  Listen to concerns and ask if they need additional support for specific matters.  Ask if they need help in accessing the additional support.  Things that may need consideration:  getting medications, having good phone access, food and water needs, financial guidance, navigating medical appointments, and transportation.

9.  Offer to speak with caregivers when their loved ones are resting or out of the room.  Give them the time to process aloud what it is like to care for a loved one round the clock in the midst of a pandemic.  Engage in some mindful practices with them via phone.

10. Wash your hand.  Paint it with a cheerful colored paint and press it onto a heart cut out of paper.  Let it dry.  Send it to one who needs a reminder that they are always in your heart.  Encourage them to put the heart to their heart and press their hand to your hand-print.  In mind, heart, and spirit… we are together in care.

As the cold days of winter are upon us,
we carry seed to the feeder
so that even the smallest may find nourishment.
Doing so, reminds us, that we hold our own
hunger and dreams,
and that while we are strong and patient, 
we are also creatures who need
sustenance and encouragement.

We yearn to be our best and give our best to those we love,
and yet, to continue to do so,
we need encounters with joy and rest, companionship and freedom.
We wish we could be like those little birds
and take to the skies and the treetops
and sing our own lovely songs with zest and zeal of spirit!

But for today, with sunflower seeds in hand,
we will breathe deeply from this sacred earth and bless the cold air that fills our lungs.
We will notice the light resting easily upon the rough bark of the tree,
and we will hold hope as this New Year begins.
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May we be comfort and find comfort.
May we trust the goodness present in each moment.
May we lean into simple pleasantries that are often born of both grace and labor.
And may we quietly allow ourselves
the gift of peace in the midst of our holy imperfections.
May we be reminded that little brown birds
fill the skies with songs
warmed by the breath of our yearnings and our small seeds of care.

For all these many years of revisiting the Christmas story, I’ve felt so badly that  humankind didn’t take better care of the Holy family. We imagine that it was cold and physically taxing for Mary, so full of baby, to ride a donkey for miles on end.  We imagine that Joseph wanted the best for his beloved, that he worried for her and the baby, and that he wished for every safeguard imaginable to be in place for the birth of this child.  And what happens? They end up in a stable! In a drafty, most likely stinky, barn for the lowly animals. Jesus, God’s sweet son, was born in a barn. I mean, come on folks! Couldn’t we do better than that?

This Christmas, however, I’ve been thinking about that stable almost daily.  It has come to me in a new light this year… one that has been comforting and inspiring. Along with the birth of Christ… perhaps where he was born was intended to be a gift to our hearts.  He wasn’t born upon satin sheets in a room scented with the finest perfume. Nor was he born where throngs of people waited outside of the doors to catch a first glimpse or report the first story. His parents did not have a fine team of labor and delivery nurses or champagne to celebrate his arrival.  Jesus was born in the quiet, soft light of a stable where the cows lowed as Mary pushed.  

I’ve been going to the stable, metaphorically, throughout this advent.  I put on my boots. I grab some oats, and with tea in hand, I go to this sacred space.  Deep within, this stable space is where I can grow quiet, sit with my Maker, and uncover more of who I am meant to be.  I return to the well-crafted center of my heart where all parts of me are welcomed. This stable is a place of sustenance and peace.  Like Mary’s stable, it is also a guardian of labor, pain, and tears. It bears witness to and shelter for the yearnings and the births.

Perhaps in Mary’s stable, the cows and horse’s warmth heated the space and their hay filled the air with sweetness.  Perhaps their presence was a comfort to Mary as she remembered how animals deliver their babies so instinctively. And perhaps Mary was thankful for the privacy of welcoming her Son with only her beloved Joseph by her side.

I think of the darkness of night and the warmth of a lantern’s glow as the Holy family first saw their baby’s face, and how they rested together in one another’s arms under the rustic beams of that small barn.  Couldn’t it be that this stable was a blessing to this family and an ongoing symbol to all of us that we are called to find our own stable spaces of simplicity and grace.

What we need is most often… close… in the simplest of means.  Snowfalls and morning fog to slow us down. Shelter to give us warmth.  Loved ones to bless our lives. And the peace of God that is always reaching out for us.  I hope this Christmas you find your way to the stable and that in the coming year it brings you closer to your own peace and joy, and the ongoing blessings of God’s tender love.  May you, too, follow the small, yet bright light of the guiding star through the fields of your own life, and arrive at the humble stable that waits to make you new.

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​As I arrived for my hair appointment, I was told that my hairdresser was running a bit late.  She is a young mother of three little children, and I smiled with a prayer in mind for her as who knows what might have caused her delay.  Maybe all three just needed a few more Mama hugs!
 
As I waited, I watched another hairdresser cutting the hair of a young man.  His appearance was intriguing as he was covered with tattoos with one rather prominent one on his neck.  The haircut he was getting was mostly a shaved look but with a patch of longer hair left in the middle of his head.  He was eating something like bite-sized granola bars as she cut his hair, and I found that also interesting as I’ve never thought about eating as someone cut my hair.  I mean, who wants hair in your food?
 
The woman cutting his hair was so at ease in her work, and what really pulled me in was how at ease she was with this man.  She held the loveliest smile on her face the entire time she was working on his hair.  She was intent on cutting his hair to his exact wishes and carefully utilized both scissors and clippers.  After she got his hair just so, coming back two or three times to catch that stray hair, she got out her short handled shaving brush, tossed a bit of powder in it, and went over his head with this soft powder.  It was as if she were caressing a canvas with loving strokes.  Such gentleness and such comfort were present in this action.
 
Then she began to shave his face and neck.  His trust was so apparent.  They moved together as if they had shared this experience many times before… he titling his head just so… she moving the razor up or down to the angle of his neck.  She left his beard close, I suppose just as he liked it.  She then took that powder brush, and again stroked his face and neck almost as a blessing to soothe what may not be apparent.  Next she asked if he might like some after shave.  He did, of course.  Her hands folded together with the after shave inside, and then she lovingly applied it to his face and neck.  I thought that must be the final touch, but there was more.  She asked if he might like some kind of product in his hair, and again he was eager to accept.  She poured this also into her hands, and then with such grace, she rubbed his head and hair.  She was still smiling even as his eyes were closed.  There was a sacredness present, a true release in the comfort of human touch.
 
And finally, she held up a small blue bottle and asked again if he might like some of that applied to his head.  And once again, he easily agreed.  It seemed to be some sort of oil or ointment, and with such care she stroked it onto his head, and onto specific places that seemed small wounds I had not noticed until that moment.
 
Just a bit more powder, and then she invited him to look in the mirror and see what he thought.  It seemed he felt it was a job well done.  And then before I knew it, he was gone.  She began to clean up her area, and my hairdresser arrived and invited me to sit in the chair beside this lady’s station.  I felt compelled to speak to her.  I told her that her hands were truly beautiful, and that I was moved by how gently and compassionately she worked with that man.  She said that he lived his life with much anxiety, and that she liked to help relieve him of such for the time he was with her.  She said that sores on this head were there because of his struggles.  And then she picked up the blue bottle, and she said that she told him there that was something about the oil inside it that helped to soothe worries… that it helped people with their struggles.  And she massaged that message along with the oil into his head.  She then looked at me and said, “It’s just hair oil, but he believes it is something more… so maybe it is.”
 
“Love is but a song to sing
Fear's the way we die
You can make the mountains ring
Or make the angels cry
Though the bird is on the wing
And you may not know why
 
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another
Right now
 
Some may come and some may go
We shall surely pass
When the one that left us here
Returns for us at last
We are but a moment's sunlight
Fading in the grass
 
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another
Right now
 
If you hear the song I sing
You will understand (listen!)
You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand
Just one key unlocks them both
It's there at your command
 
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another
Right now.”

​Sometimes, our beings
need
to sit on the porch and
not allow the mind to argue about
the chill or dampness.
We need not make
excuses that
someone will see our
bed-head hair
or judge us
for wasting time
when there are other
things more important to do.
 
Sometimes, our beings
require
porch sitting
as much as we require
food and oxygen.
Sometimes,
the only way to come fully
alive
is to feel the forty degree
temperature on our skin
that coaxes us to run
back inside only long
enough to grab hat and scarf.
 
Sometimes, we must
hear, straight from the tree,
without barrier of window or wall,
the happiness in the
robin and wren songs.
 
Sometimes, we must step down
from the porch just long enough
to finger the dark soil that
blankets new growth.
With dirt under our nails,
we can better give thanks that earth
is our home no matter where we roam.
 
And as we breathe in the morning air,
as we rest in what is fully present
in us and around us,
we uncover the pureness of
what naturally heals.
 
And this is important as we live complex lives.
Like the seasons that hold both barren and full times,
our lives are ‘yes and’ lives.
Yes, we carry burdens and we can be released from them.
Yes, we are tired and rest will find us.
Yes, the world is falling apart and it is mending.
Yes, there is devastation and there is beauty.
Yes, our hearts break and they continue to love and be loved.
 
Sometimes, porch sitting
invites the complexity to grow quiet enough
that we find our way out of the fog
and hear the wind chimes soothing us
into the possibilities
of a new day. 

​Martin
By Kathy Fuller Guisewite
January 21, 2019
 
Oh, what would he tell us?
Oh, what would he say
to help us bring justice to
our land this day?
 
And what about kindness?
And what about peace?
Have we lost all possibility
of sweet release?
 
We’re gritting our teeth,
and we try to hang on,
but insanity reigns
as we march with our songs.
 
How can our nation
be so far from what’s real?
How can we conquer the
zealot’s fake zeal?
 
Is there any hope left
that we can still find
a way to the truth
that is loving and kind?
 
Can we live out his dream?
Can we learn to unite
as a humanity created
equal in the Maker’s sight?
 
Oh, what would he tell us?
Oh, what would he say
to help us bring justice to
our land this day?
 
Grow not weary
in pursuit of what’s pure.
Lean on God’s truth
to find what’s secure.
 
Stand steady for those
who’ve been pushed to the ground
whose beauty need not be lost
to the powers that abound.
 
Remember the words
pressed deep in your being.
Honor them and live them for
what’s shallow is fleeting.
 
What remains is his legacy,
his lessons, and the call
that humanity be kindred
to prevent the divided fall.
 
So today as we remember,
may our spirits rise anew
to do the work before us
as Martin urged we do.

The one day that he spoke of
may not be so far away
if we keep working for the dreams
day by day by day.

​My Grandma was walker.
No matter the season or weather,
she was called to get outside and walk…
for her body, her mind, and her spirit.
 
My Mom was and still is a walker.
In her working days, she walked there…
sometimes out of necessity,
sometimes for the exercise,
but most often (as a mother of three children
and a teacher of preschool children),
she walked as a measure of self-care and
self-preservation.
She, too, found new life in the fresh air,
in the bird songs, and the neighbor’s greetings.
When someone she loved was going through
a trying time,
her kind suggestion of taking a walk
would often wondrously help to ease the load.
 
My Grandma and my Mom walked
to the hospital
when my Mom went into labor with me.
It was late, on a cold December night
when walking together seemed the
most natural thing to do.
I guess you could say, that was our first
big walk together… three generations of
women finding strength and love under the stars
in the cold night air.
 
And this morning, on my winter walk
all these many years later,
I find we are still walking together.
My Grandmother is on the other side, but her essence
shines through with the morning sun.
My Mom now walks a bit slower and often with her
arm linked in mine or Dad’s,
but she still finds great release
in taking a walk where something can shift,
something can give way that frees her.
 
And I give thanks as I walk with my eyes
to the mountains
and my heart to the sky
that the walking wisdom of my Grandma
became my mother’s
so it could
become mine as well.
 
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Walking Home from Oak-Head
By Mary Oliver
 
There is something
about the snow-laden sky
in winter
in the late afternoon
 
that brings to the heart elation
and the lovely meaninglessness
of time.
Whenever I get home - whenever -
 
somebody loves me there.
Meanwhile
I stand in the same dark peace
as any pine tree,
 
or wander on slowly
like the still unhurried wind,
waiting,
as for a gift,
 
for the snow to begin
which it does
at first casually,
then, irrepressibly.
 
Wherever else I live -
in music, in words,
in the fires of the heart,
I abide just as deeply
 
in this nameless, indivisible place,
this world,
which is falling apart now,
which is white and wild,
which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith,
our deepest prayers.
Don't worry, sooner or later I'll be home.
Red-cheeked from the roused wind,
 
I'll stand in the doorway
stamping my boots and slapping my hands,
my shoulders
covered with stars.