Sep 28 2007
A New Landscape
I am reminded once again, by prayer requests in my inbox, of the incredibly difficult and often painful lives of our elderly; also, of the enormous amount of strength and dedication required of their caregivers.
And once again, I am profoundly moved by the powerful life, spirituality and writing of Servant of God Catherine Doherty, who, in her book, “Molchanie. Experiencing the Silence of God”, gives us a whole chapter entitled, The Silence of Old Age.
Catherine speaks of her own experience of aging in this chapter, and I would like to share just a few passages with you here:
- “Somehow it never occurs to us that tomorrow or the day after, our steps will falter, that we will be too weak to do what we would like. And yet, I think this ‘unfreedom’ of old age is also an entry into the silence of God.”
- “…the silence of old age, with its accompanying lack of exterior freedom. My own heart must learn to accept this lack of freedom….This is good, because now I enter a new depth of silence, and the very essence of poverty, for which I have so longed. Now I am exceedingly free.”
- “The earth is becoming a narrow sliver, of no more importance. Heaven is opening before me. This is the goal I always wanted to attain. No wonder earthly landscapes pass out of view. God has given me a new key to the landscape of his heart, and nobody can stop me from entering it.”
A new key, a new landscape, a deeper poverty, silence and union. Let us pray for our elderly, for their caregivers and for ourselves. No matter whether we are young or old, able to move or not, speak or not, swallow or not, let us pray that we will enter the landscape of God’s heart, and be as Catherine Doherty - although “bound” exteriorly as she advanced in age, able to shout with joy, “I am lost in the tenderness of God.”
I really must get some books by Catherine Doherty.
Ah, indeed, we must pray for more generous hearts.
You know what? Satan has some answering to do. Jesus can’t return in glory soon enough for me. But the answer satan sees and hears right now is perhaps Jesus-Victory enough: Nothing breaks love. Everything else can be broken, but not love. Love is of God. Love is permanent.
Praise God.
Anon, this scene you describe so tenderly could have been (was) myself and my two sisters twelve years ago, a couple of times when my mom had to be in the hospital, but she was able to stay at home, not in a home for the elderly, until the end. I don’t know if I could do the work you do, God bless you.
All one can do is meet the dementia’d elderly on whatever ground they’re presently on, compliment something, rejoice over little things, and when they think they’ve said something funny, laugh. Sometimes hugs are absolutely unwanted, but sometimes, that is all that is wanted. There is a lot of remembering that goes into their forgettings, and there are heartaches they don’t want to open anymore (and who could blame them?) They already know something’s wrong. Just pretend you can handle it. We’ve never actually known the core of these folks anyway. Not fully. But we will, one day, and we’ll just help them live the happiest they can, until we all gather on the other side.
Ruth.. what a wondrous holy name. I’ll pray for her tonight
Restored one day unto our loved ones, of new as well as of old, however, there will be no more suffering, and every tear will be wiped from every eye. Until then, we cry, there at the foot of the Cross, with Jesus and Mary and all the heartbroken, but also with Jesus at Lazarus’ tomb.. His tears preceded Lazarus’ rising, but then there were tears of joy, remember? There will be those again, one day! We can be sure.
In one of the communal dining rooms that had to be overseen either for fear of choking, aspirating, or wandering off, John regaled us every eve with what he remembered to be the singular honor of his life: how he killed not only Japs but gunned down a number of planes, which he referred to as “those bastard Germans.” His table mate was of course Lydia, about a hundred-and-ouch years old, and as German as could be. Evvvvvvery night, we’d have to ask John to change the subject, saying, “Lydia, here, is German, John.” He’d look at her and apologize profusely. Then he’d ask for her extra roll and butter. Every night, she gave him her extra roll and butter. *sigh.. God love them.
No, I never really knew the core of my mother. I’d like to have been her friend. And she never knew the core of me. Nor did I know the core of my father, nor my cousins, my husband, my children.. well, maybe my children, but not even them, do we know fully. One day, fully. One day, we will watch our loved ones converse with John Paul II.. and Mary.. and Abe Lincoln. (Ha, had to get him in there, too.)
And one for the Irish amongst us. Makes finishing each other’s sentences look like a cake-walk.
I, too, am a fan of Abe Lincoln. Allow me to offer a quote of his that I read recently on another worthwhile blog site(http://pistolpete.wordpress.com/) …. ““If I had eight hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend six sharpening my axe.” Pistol Pete suggests that we take steps to do the following:
“Sharpen your spiritual axe with prayer.”
Somehow, I feel as tho I have held both of your hands (in the imagery suggested by Anon), in this exchange of thoughts/reflections/experiences/feelings/prayers.
I am surprised by joy, at times like this….
With a heartful of prayerful gratitude…
In His Mercy & Grace,
kristin
I have gotten over my mom’s death.. all the deaths of loved ones, so far. I don’t know if it shall stay that way, and I hope not to find out, but to know that they are in a better place..much much better place.. oh, my, to know they are not suffering, are not fearful, nor crying, and are not only visiting one another but perhaps also watching the Lord go by with a loving wink to them, watching His scarred hands cup a new face in Heaven.. well, that helps to fill in with something soft, every gnawing chasm their every departure opened.