Month: December 2015

Aging Jars of Clay

Some people are uncomfortable around old folks. I have rather an affinity for them. My work in hospice placed me in close, intimate proximity to the elderly—as the majority of my patients were older.

Even before that, I remember observing old people I encountered through my life. I’d especially study their eyes—trying to see the intelligence, humor, personality, and experience reflected there. For some reason, I’ve always been able to see them as older versions of myself—with skills, energy, physical stamina, their own kind of beauty, passion, and interesting experiences. My imagination allows me the freedom to recreate them into the way they must have looked in their youth. The common tendency in our society is just to see them as old, and all that comes with that–including their disposability.

Standing recently on the beach, I looked across the water, which has always been a spiritual experience for me. The beauty, the power of the water, the gentle breeze blowing softly through my hair, the sounds of the gulls overhead, the feel of the sun upon my skin, the smell of the salt in the air—all of it welling up within me, filling me up to overflowing with awe for a God so great that He could hold that immensity as but a drop in His hand.

It paints a pretty picture to imagine a beautiful 20-something flat-belly with cornflower eyes and long flaxen hair staring out across the ocean, her smooth, soft skin shimmering in the sunlight, her long, lithe, strong legs supporting her with the water lapping around her exquisite ankles.

Haha. I was kind of that girl once, about a million years ago. I may be forty years older and 100# heavier, but I’m the same person, and on the inside I still feel like I did when I was in my 20’s. When people see me now, do they see that girl of long ago? Or do they only see a fat, old lady with thinning hair taking up space on the beach? Perhaps they don’t even realize I’m looking out through the same eyes, feeling the same passion for life and waves and God as I did when I was young and fine. It’s not as pretty a picture, but it’s just as poignant to me.

Let me encourage you young people to try an experiment next time you find yourself sitting next to an elderly person. Instead of looking upon them as just taking up space in a world meant for the young, try to see them as a repository of rich stories, of relationships gone wrong—or right. These people were young once, too. They had dreams and hopes and aspirations. Some realized those dreams—others didn’t. But try to open the lid to see what’s inside. Remember, when they look into your face, they’re looking through the same eyes they had when they were young and fine. You just might be surprised what you find in their depths.

Posted by Deborah Howard in Counseling, Days of My Life, End of Life Issues, Musings and Meditations, 0 comments

God, Be With Us

The issue of the Syrian migration has been in the news, as it should be. I’ve seen the faces of the babies crying, their concerned moms holding them close. I’ve heard nightmares of their plight as they’ve made their way into Europe. I’ve also heard the nightmares they leave in their path, as they invade country after country.

Maybe that’s why I dreamed about it the other night.  In my dream I answered the door (of course it was not this house, but still let’s go with it) and three Middle-Eastern men stood there with forlorn expressions on their faces. One of them said in broken English, “We are forever hungry. Can you help us?” Knowing I’d just cooked a full meal, I asked them to wait there. When I returned with a platter of food for them, I was surprised that instead of the three hungry men I’d seen earlier, there were now fifty or sixty. They grabbed the platter of food and angrily pushed past me into my house knocking down lamps, tearing up everything in their path, shouting, pushing, shoving, breaking everything. I woke up breathing hard in full panic mode.

Though I’m thankful that was just a dream, I know that, for some, it’s only too real. I’m torn thinking of the children, then afraid remembering how strong the crowd was, and how powerless I was to stop them from coming into my house.

I realized that my dream captured both my fear and my compassion. One of my more liberal friends was astonished when I told her I supported our governor’s decision not to bring refugees here to Arkansas. She tried to shame me a little saying, “You’re one of the most compassionate people I know. I can’t believe you’re taking this stand. What if people shared this attitude with the Jews when they tried to escape Nazi Germany? What about your obligation to do unto others as you would have done unto you?”

Honestly, I see this as very different, an unfair comparison.

Yes, it’s true I’m conflicted. My heart wants to help. But I do not want what has happened in Europe to happen here in the United States. And I think we’re at a watershed moment in our history when this is a real possibility. It is proven that ISIS has infiltrated the refugee hordes. And that’s a shame. The masses are a huge Trojan horse, and within its throngs are people dedicated to the annihilation of all people and cultures but its own. It is possible then that in bringing the masses to America, we pave the way for uprisings and terrorism here on our own soil on a scale we never thought possible.

Let me make this very clear. I hate no one. I believe people should be allowed to practice their religion as long as it does not oppress others. But I do not want to be overrun by those who refuse to allow us to live in our own country with faith in God and patriotism for this nation.

We don’t know God’s plan for our country, or our own lives. So I thank GOD that I can rest in His sovereignty, knowing nothing happens outside His perfect plan and His divine will. That’s the only thing that keeps me from despair.

We may lose the world as we know it.  We will never lose the God that we love.  And in the end, we will dwell with Him in peace for all eternity.  I don’t know of a more important time to dwell upon heavenly things than now.

Posted by Deborah Howard in Days of My Life, Musings and Meditations, 5 comments