This week I've attended the funeral of the man I wrote about in this post. Like Sarah and then Abraham, he died old and full of years, with family to remember him with stories and love while committing his body back to the dust.
Sheila and I have agreed to delay this week's guest post until Sunday. See you then!
Showing posts with label elderly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label elderly. Show all posts
16 May 2012
29 August 2011
"we, who are many, are one body in Christ"
I am back home after spending a week at ministry training summer school. It was a wonderful and exhausting week. And my overwhelming sense at the end of it is that I was not only welcomed into that community, but have already come to belong to it. That, in turn, left me with a feeling of belonging to the Anglican Church more widely, and to the Body of Christ more widely still.
What a pleasure, then, to stop on our journey home for communion at a little Anglican church where a diverse group of people were welcomed.
There were several white-haired ladies already present when we arrived. Gradually elderly men arrived as well. Then two young women with bold platinum highlights in their hair, and a young man with tattoos on his neck and arms - a large rose spreading from his left shoulder up to his left ear, and a row of what looked to be Hebrew letters across the back of his neck. I was so struck by his tattoos that it took a while for me to notice that he was holding an infant in his arms. When I asked, at the peace, he replied that the tattoo said father. All these people were white, but the congregation also included a middle-aged man who looked Chinese, and a young black man.
Like we have at our church, they had a re-usable leaflet containing the order of service. But unlike ours, theirs was season-specific. And, as Vandriver spotted even before I did, the cover was in the color of the season. Inside the front cover was a description of the season. I won't repeat it all, but here is a little of what it said: We need to remember that Ordinary Time does not need to be "ordinary, or plain or dull" and it is not meant to mean that somehow we get a break from the Liturgical Year. The opposite is true: Ordinary Time celebrates the mystery of Christ in all its aspects. Many important liturgical celebrations fall during Ordinary Time, including Trinity, All Saints and Christ the King. ... As we journey through Ordinary Time may there be nothing 'ordinary' about our encounter with our Lord and Saviour.
What I noticed was this information: There is an area in the south side (near the font) that has been set aside for carers and toddlers to use during our services. There are book and quiet toys to keep children occupied. And so there was!
It included crayons and Bible storybooks, as well as other activities, and was within view of the altar and even the organist (depending a little on where you sat). A Sunday School for the over-3s ran from the start of the service, with children re-joining the adult congregation for the entire Liturgy of the Sacrament.
But it wasn't just the provisions for children and the presence of a visibly diverse congregation that showed off the welcoming nature of this church - we were made welcome. We were greeted as we entered the church (by the same woman that I later saw helping an elderly man find his place in a large-print service booklet), and because we had apologized that we might have to leave early because we had a plane to catch, we were amongst the first to be ushered forward for communion!
So it was just a natural extension of the feelings that the week of summer school had left me with - a real sense of belonging to a community within a wider body. For so much of my life, I have interpreted the question How was church? to mean firstly, "How was the sermon?" and then, "What hymns did you sing?" and "Who spoke to you?" Well, yesterday we sang several familiar, beloved hymns and were given a competent, evangelical sermon, but what I took away with me was several images (the children's area; the hanging aumbry with a funny dove above it which looked like an angel from where I was sitting; the secluded, walled churchyard; the tattooed father holding his baby; the stained glass depiction of the crucifixion and ascension which I turned to gaze upon during the Eucharistic Prayer) and above all the sense of belonging.
What a pleasure, then, to stop on our journey home for communion at a little Anglican church where a diverse group of people were welcomed.
 |
| St. Martin's Church, West Drayton |
Like we have at our church, they had a re-usable leaflet containing the order of service. But unlike ours, theirs was season-specific. And, as Vandriver spotted even before I did, the cover was in the color of the season. Inside the front cover was a description of the season. I won't repeat it all, but here is a little of what it said: We need to remember that Ordinary Time does not need to be "ordinary, or plain or dull" and it is not meant to mean that somehow we get a break from the Liturgical Year. The opposite is true: Ordinary Time celebrates the mystery of Christ in all its aspects. Many important liturgical celebrations fall during Ordinary Time, including Trinity, All Saints and Christ the King. ... As we journey through Ordinary Time may there be nothing 'ordinary' about our encounter with our Lord and Saviour.
What I noticed was this information: There is an area in the south side (near the font) that has been set aside for carers and toddlers to use during our services. There are book and quiet toys to keep children occupied. And so there was!
It included crayons and Bible storybooks, as well as other activities, and was within view of the altar and even the organist (depending a little on where you sat). A Sunday School for the over-3s ran from the start of the service, with children re-joining the adult congregation for the entire Liturgy of the Sacrament.
So it was just a natural extension of the feelings that the week of summer school had left me with - a real sense of belonging to a community within a wider body. For so much of my life, I have interpreted the question How was church? to mean firstly, "How was the sermon?" and then, "What hymns did you sing?" and "Who spoke to you?" Well, yesterday we sang several familiar, beloved hymns and were given a competent, evangelical sermon, but what I took away with me was several images (the children's area; the hanging aumbry with a funny dove above it which looked like an angel from where I was sitting; the secluded, walled churchyard; the tattooed father holding his baby; the stained glass depiction of the crucifixion and ascension which I turned to gaze upon during the Eucharistic Prayer) and above all the sense of belonging.
20 August 2011
Being Present with the Invisible
 |
| Auguste Deter (first documented case of Alzheimer's Disease). |
Ministry to those with Alzheimer’s Disease: My mother has Alzheimer’s. We recently moved her to a nursing home where she could receive the 24-hour-a-day care she needed in order to be safe. So I was particularly interested in a workshop led by The Rev. Lois Howard, Deacon at a recent Christian Education Day in Lexington, Kentucky. Lois has a ministry of presence and relationship with folks who have dementia. And she brings Godly Play to them.
Being Present with the Invisible: Ministry to Alzheimer's Folks Using the Godly Play Model: by Dn. Lois Howard, The Church of the Resurrection, Jessamine County, KY. (You might need to scroll to page 10.)
(If you're brand new to my blog, you might also be interested in this post about an elderly man from two weeks ago.)
03 August 2011
Godly time
One of the ideas that Godly Play has opened up for me is that we can be with God in play, and in "just being". I don't suggest that we should dispense with corporate worship, but I have been stretched by notions of wordless prayer, active prayer, and time that I cannot even call prayer but nonetheless seems to be Godly.
Last week a few of us traveled to see an architecturally famous church. A 98-year-old man leant on my arm, and the two of us walked slowly up a side aisle. He began to puff and pant, and so as we entered the chancel I urged him to sit down. We sat together and looked around a little, and then I got up to speak with somebody else. I looked back and was surprised and moved to see the man hunched over his cane, mouthing silent words. I thought, "He's praying!"
We soon left the church and meandered through the grounds before making our way to the parking area. Another able-bodied person helped the man to a bench. When the time came to leave the man had his head back and was gazing at the church tower viewed against a bright blue sky, and at birds circling overhead. I could not bring myself to interrupt him.
This is a man who is essentially house-bound, as neither he nor his wife drive any longer. He has so little short-term memory that he cannot really hold a conversation, enjoy reading, or even remember to remove his shoes when he goes to bed. His wife told me that he can no longer cope with church services, even on the rare occasions when younger relatives visit and offer to take them.
Yet there outside the church I had a powerful sense that he was engaged in Godly work: admiring the birds' flight and enjoying the sun. He was engaged. It called to mind the Montessori quote I posted recently - the child who concentrates is immensely happy. And again, I thought of Godly Play - we have all the time we need. Surely there was no rush to take him to the car. The others could wait another few minutes.
[You might like to read another post about all the time we need.]
[The photos I've used here show a different church and a different old man - they are publicly available photographs and I am grateful to the photographers for sharing them.]
[In May 2012 I edited this post, deleting one phrase: he is not demented. At the time of posting, I believed dementia to refer only to hallucinations and severe errors in reasoning. I have since learned that it is used much more broadly for the loss of a range of brain functions, including memory.]
Last week a few of us traveled to see an architecturally famous church. A 98-year-old man leant on my arm, and the two of us walked slowly up a side aisle. He began to puff and pant, and so as we entered the chancel I urged him to sit down. We sat together and looked around a little, and then I got up to speak with somebody else. I looked back and was surprised and moved to see the man hunched over his cane, mouthing silent words. I thought, "He's praying!"
We soon left the church and meandered through the grounds before making our way to the parking area. Another able-bodied person helped the man to a bench. When the time came to leave the man had his head back and was gazing at the church tower viewed against a bright blue sky, and at birds circling overhead. I could not bring myself to interrupt him.
 |
| Photo by john shortland, used by permission |
This is a man who is essentially house-bound, as neither he nor his wife drive any longer. He has so little short-term memory that he cannot really hold a conversation, enjoy reading, or even remember to remove his shoes when he goes to bed. His wife told me that he can no longer cope with church services, even on the rare occasions when younger relatives visit and offer to take them.
Yet there outside the church I had a powerful sense that he was engaged in Godly work: admiring the birds' flight and enjoying the sun. He was engaged. It called to mind the Montessori quote I posted recently - the child who concentrates is immensely happy. And again, I thought of Godly Play - we have all the time we need. Surely there was no rush to take him to the car. The others could wait another few minutes.
 |
| Photo by Adam Jones (cropped by Storyteller and used by permission) adamjones.freeservers.com |
[You might like to read another post about all the time we need.]
[The photos I've used here show a different church and a different old man - they are publicly available photographs and I am grateful to the photographers for sharing them.]
[In May 2012 I edited this post, deleting one phrase: he is not demented. At the time of posting, I believed dementia to refer only to hallucinations and severe errors in reasoning. I have since learned that it is used much more broadly for the loss of a range of brain functions, including memory.]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)