Faith/Hope/Love, Poverty, Silence and Solitude
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.”
28 Sep 2007 gabrielle
Beautiful food for thought. It made me think that although time and health march on, outwardly, Joy moves on, inwardly.
What a beautiful reflection. Sadly our elderly are forgotten and ignored by so many. A timely reflection that sheds light on this issue. Thanks for sharing it :).
I really must get some books by Catherine Doherty.
I’m very pleased you have raised this, Gabrielle. Catherine’s beautiful imagery is very moving and every line seems to have serenity interwoven with the words. The elderly have come through so much, have such stories to tell and often have accepted great trials with God-sent grace. Do we as a society value tham enough? I don’t think we do. Do we as the mystical body of Christ honour them enough? I don’t think we do. Do we as their daughters and sons in Christ love them enough?
Hello Anon, Ginny, and Ann. I had just recently read this particular book by Catherine, and it came to mind as I read these emails that came in, two from bloggers and about six from my parish on my regular email at home. I think it’s another area where we can easily start to feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the need, and for the caregivers, overwhelmed by the details of the individuals. No, Ann, I do not believe the elderly are valued, honoured or loved enough. Actually, I don’t think their caregivers are either.
Of course, those who neglect or dismiss the elderly generally forget that if God continues to breathe life in them, they just might be elderly one day too….and then who would they want to care for them? Would they want to be made to feel less than human? Deprived of their human rights? Ignored? Abused?
Ah, indeed, we must pray for more generous hearts.
As I say, I shouldn’t even be witness to it, to the sacred leaving behind of life, but the other one whom I asked prayer for is also moving toward Home. All is as it should be, I was able to ascertain that, but it’s not easy. Her family have been stopping in each day; they were leaving when I came on shift, but we called them later in the eve, for there was a marked change, and their mom had now been started on morphine. They came back, as one. Three daughters.. one older than me, one about my age, one much younger. Oh, these damn goodbyes. There is nothing to be done but listen, smile, hug, offer food and coffee, chairs, give privacy, assure them they can crawl right up onto the bed with their loved one, stay the night.. and dash out before one’s own tears can’t be restrained. At first, they each left the room to cry, for she is noticeably worse. But they returned and sat around her bed, in the dark while the music played, telling stories of what they remembered. Pretty soon there were gentle laughs, and so it went for about an hour. Then, the middle sister brought out a chair and said, “Ok.. you can put up her siderails again.” I wish I’d have waited. The little one, the lost one, had turned her face to the wall and said in such a tiny voice, “Bye, Mum.”
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.
Hi, Ukok. Yes, and even when neglect or abuse isn’t involved, it’s just a heartbreaking stage of life for everyone, when we can’t physically take care of our own loved ones anymore.
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.
Gabrielle: Once again, your “timing” is absolutely wonderful (a reflection of God’s “timing”, which, of course, is perfect…even if we don’t think so at the moment). Thank you for sharing these words of such wisdom & clarity. We are struggling here, with the problems of the elderly….there’s my own mom (Shirley), whose physical health is declining so rapidly, tho her mind is still sharp (you know about that situation, in particular). We are still hoping to move her up from Florida, as soon as an apt becomes available. Maybe by Spring of next yr…..if her body holds out that long - then at least she will be nearby, so that I can help her more, as she draws ever closer to her time to see God - face to face. Ronnie’s mom, however, has the opposite problem: her body is relatively strong & healthy, but her mind is rapidly slipping into severe dementia. The whole family struggles with her manic, angry, defensive, paranoid, accusatory episodes, knowing that it won’t be too much longer until she will have to be placed into a full-time nursing facility. In the meantime….last nite, ronnie talked w/her on the phone for a while, and was so sad after hanging up. He asked me, “What can I do for her, to help? She’s so miserable”. I said that there were really only two things that he (we) could do: continue to be kind to her (no matter what she says or does…she’s not responsible for herself anymore) - AND - pray for her. Both of those things are still very much within our range of choices, as well as our abilities. As her paranoia deepens, so does the need for us to respond with kindness & patience, even in the face of such irrational fear & pain (oftentimes, this is almost impossible, without the power that comes of prayer). She is in such need of God’s tenderness and comfort. Her name is Ruth - please lift her up in your prayers, when you can……you have my heartfelt gratitude.
I wouldn’t say this if I hadn’t worked in locked Units on the evening and overnight shifts. And I say it as someone who has been pinched once. Never belted or bitten. Attitude and respect seems to be everything.
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
Kristin, I didn’t realize your mother’s health was deteriorating that quickly; I’m so sorry. I really, really hope that you will be able to have her nearby soon. The waiting-lists for suitable places are usually very long, aren’t they. But it would be so good for you to be together; bittersweet, but time together that you will cherish forever. Ronnie’s mom’s condition is just heartbreaking. I have a friend whose mother seems to be going down the same road. She was the gentlest, most loving woman and mom that you could ever imagine, and now she is saying hateful and bitter things to her daughter - but it’s not really her; as you say, she’s not responsible for herself anymore, but it is so painful. Also as you say, compassion, patience and prayer, and then some more compassion, patience and prayer.
Anon, I was really struck by something you said: “There is a lot of remembering that goes into their forgettings.” I had another friend (her dad passed away a few years ago), and during the worst of his dementia he got very violent, especially with the caregivers, but in certain lucid moments they found out from him that he thought he was still a prisoner-of-war. Oh, we spent many an hour on the phone crying together, I tell you. How true, that we never really know the core of anyone.
Oh my.. satan will answer for everything– oh, that he shall. Yes, we are having a problem with a new resident flinging people’s hands off of her. She’s stroke blind and deaf on one side, but also, she has never liked being touched. She holds hands like she lives for it, tho’ –but how to tell everyone else?
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 we’ll sing. We’ll sing.
And we’ll dance a little jig…or a tarantella.
La tarantella. I think we should combine this with the grape-stomping, Pia.
And one for the Irish amongst us. Makes finishing each other’s sentences look like a cake-walk.
Anon (& Gabrielle): Please accept my heartfelt appreciation for your warm, compassionate, wise and caring words…and most especially for your prayers. Both Ruth and my own mother need those prayers. As do the family members who are dealing with the various difficult aspects of trying to offer what they can. The “family dynamics” are so often another factor to add to the turbulent “mix”. 2 of Ronnie’s brothers are still resentful toward their mother, for things she has said and done over the past 5 yrs or so….even with the clear knowledge that she has developed such severe dementia. Ronnie, on the other hand, is so sad for her, and wants so much to TRY to help, somehow. She becomes so angry w/him, when he won’t do as she demands: namely to get her OUT of that place, and put her into a home of her own (which of course, is no longer feasible). But, so much of what you have said is so true…. that desire to reach out, to know the “core” of another human being…what a profound thought. Do any of us really know that “core being”? Only GOD knows that part of us, fully. Tho, I think that the desire & yearning to somehow touch it is, perhaps, a reflection of the Divine in each of us. (At least, that’s my theory).
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
(((Kristin))) Prayer is the key, the foundation of everything.
I’ll pray for your mom, for you, for Ronnie and all the families, Kristin. Oh, I wish people didn’t have to go thru all the dying and goodbying..there is so much suffering of every kind, and life is incredibly short even at its longest.. but that is precisely why I rejoice and laugh whenever possible — it blesses us all. That is what I have learned from others. To live, even as we die. The burden of caring comes close to breaking us at times.. and one day, it will. But as Ms. Doherty says, deeper into the great tenderness of God.
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.