Doorways to the Soul: Accepting What Is

The purest and truest spiritual life begins with accepting everything that comes to you as a gift and teaching…. The most difficult times sometimes bring the most important teachings. Each lesson is another step toward learning how to accept what comes to us as material to be transformed into the grace of spiritual life.
~Bradford Keeney, Everyday Soul~

Several months before my father died everything began to go wrong with his body.  First one thing and then another.  Even though, at that point in my life, I had spent some time as a chaplain intern for a large trauma center and had been around people as they were dying, I was too close to my own situation to be able to see what was actually happening.  One evening a dear friend came by my apartment and, after listening to me for a little while, he said,  Nancy, I’m afraid you’re using all your energy denying what’s really going on with your dad.  His body is shutting down.  He’s not going to be with us much longer.  You’re going to exhaust yourself arguing with reality. 

I was furious!  I wanted to throw him out of my apartment.  I wanted to rail against him and tell him he was wrong.  Except…that I knew he was right.  It was a wrenchingly painful moment for me and a significant one.  Had I not trusted him and the genuine concern he had for me, I might not have been able to hear him.  But because of his courage and his care, I gradually began accepting what was happening rather than resisting it.   I couldn’t change the fact that my father was dying of cancer.  But I could change who I was and how I responded in the midst of this unwelcome reality in the life of my family.

Accepting what is can be a challenge, especially when we don’t like what is happening.  Whether it’s a dilemma at work or at home, a relationship difficulty, finances, or a health issue it is all too easy to allow our thoughts to spiral downward and our mantra to become everything is going wrong!  And yet, even when that is the case and things are falling apart before our eyes, what else can we actually do but to deal with the problem as best we can and move on?  Returning to a place of equilibrium and peace takes practice.  It takes questioning our own perceptions and being willing to stop arguing with reality.  But if we’re willing to accept what is, peace is only a thought away.

To Practice: 

Think about a situation in your life that is causing you unhappiness, frustration or pain. For a little while today try accepting the situation completely, as it is.

Let go of your demands or your wishes that it be different.

Let go of any sense of struggle or striving.

Try to find something in the situation that has worth or meaning.

As you do this, observe what happens to your pain.

Sometimes when we stop trying so hard to change things, things change all by themselves.

Nancy McCranie
Director of Bereavement and Volunteer Services

Doorways to the Soul: The Present Moment

“The present moment, like the spotted owl or the sea turtle, has become an endangered species. Yet more and more I find that dwelling in the present moment, in the face of everything that would call us out of it, is our highest spiritual discipline. More boldly, I would say that our very presentness is our salvation; the present moment, entered into fully, is our gateway to eternal life.”

~Philip Simmons, Learning to Fall~

“Between the fear of trying to anticipate where cancer was leading me and the exhausted peace of collapsing in the moment, I came to understand that I couldn’t think my way out of cancer.  But from the eternal perspective opened to me in each moment, I could inhabit the inner resources to meet the journey as it was unfolding.  What has stayed with me all these years is that I experience the moment with my heart and the future with my mind.”

 ~Mark Nepo, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen~

It was a thing of beauty; aquamarine and silver with white streamers on the handlebars.  My very first bike.  I was six years old and had watched with longing for several years as my two older brothers tore around the neighborhood on their big red bicycles.  Now was my time.  I could feel it.  At first, of course, there were the training wheels. I started off carefully, riding around the driveway and the sidewalk in front of our house.  Before long, however, I was ready for Dad to take the training wheels off.  I remember wobbling back and forth with fierce determination, Dad holding on to the back of the bike, while I got the hang of balancing on two wheels.  A few days later, glancing over my shoulder in amazement, I realized that he was no longer holding on.  I was moving on my own power!

From that moment on, I spent all my spare time on that bike, riding up and down the street reveling in my newfound freedom and independence.  And then one day I decided it was time to accompany my brothers and their friends to Suicide Hill, the biggest, baddest hill in the neighborhood.  Straight and steep with a wide curve at the bottom, it promised untold thrills.  I had seen them barreling down the hill many times, sweeping to the right as they gracefully took the curve.  It was a thing of beauty.  Only this time I was going to join them.  Several others went before me, their legs held straight out from their bikes, howls of delight filling the air, eyes shining and cheeks glowing with excitement.  Then suddenly it was my turn.

As my bike and I began to roll down the hill, gradually picking up speed, I gripped the handle bars with all my strength, the little white streamers flapping furiously in the wind.  I held my feet out to the side the way I’d seen the others do.  Faster and faster I went.  It was electrifying…and terrifying.  As the curve at the bottom of the hill approached, however, I realized that I was going too fast to make it. The only way to slow or stop my bike was by pushing back on one of the pedals.  But they were flying around and around at the same speed as the wheels and I didn’t see any way to get control of them.  And so my beautiful bike and I just kept going, sailing over the curb, momentarily airborne, landing hard and then wiping out in spectacular fashion in a neighbor’s yard.  I’m sure I had some bruises and a skinned knee or two to show for myself.  But what I remember is the ride itself.  There was no past; there was no future; there was only that moment.  And it was an unforgettable moment.

What experiences in your life have drawn you most fully into the present moment?  They typically are experiences of emotional, physical, or spiritual intensity.  They are moments that wake us up and connect us with the life force that flows around us, between us, and through us.  Almost all the world’s religious and spiritual traditions urge us to live in the present moment as a way to access our soul’s strength and wisdom.  But what about the boring moments or those laced with conflict?   What about moments weighed down with fatigue or illness?  It can be difficult to remain awake and aware during those moments.  Like breathing in and out, we can remind ourselves that the moment is there when we are ready to open to it.   And like riding a bike, the more we practice the more skilled we become, until one day we just might find ourselves falling into a moment that changes our lives.

To Practice:  A Breathing Meditation

• Center yourself and feel the moment you are quietly entering.
• Breathe slowly and let yourself feel the tug of the future calling.
• Breathe deeply and return to the moment you are in.
• Sit quietly and let yourself feel the sway from the present to the future and back.
• Breathe slowly and feel this moment ripple from you like water in all directions.
• Breathe deeply and, as all water is connected, no matter where you enter it, feel this moment open you to all moments. 

~Mark Nepo, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen~

Nancy McCranie
Director of Bereavement and Volunteer Services

Hospice Austin Volunteers: A Brilliant Tapestry of Love

Hospice Austin volunteers Rupesh Chhagan, Aya Foley and Trish O’Day

Last week at a Hospice Austin Volunteer Forum (an educational event held quarterly for our volunteers), about 20 of us were having a wonderful conversation with one of our doctors about the physician’s role on the Hospice Austin team when a visitor to the group raised her hand.  “So, what do Hospice Austin volunteers do?”

There was a slight pause as the volunteers looked around the room at one another, considering her question.  And then the stories began to come, first one and then another and another like multi-colored strands of yarn weaving themselves throughout the room, connecting us to one another in a brilliant tapestry of compassion, care, imagination, and love.

“I had a patient recently who loved libraries, shopping at H.E.B., and horror movies.  We achieved our goal of visiting every public library in town and were working our way through all the H.E.B.’s in town.  Every Friday afternoon I would bring her whatever horror movie Red Box had that week and then I would cower on the couch while she enjoyed the movie.  We had so much fun together.”

“My patient makes dolls and so I help her gather materials and post videos on YouTube about doll-making.  I’m also helping her clear out her garage.”

“The patient I’m volunteering for needs a ride to and from the clinic every week.  We’ve developed a good friendship during these weekly car rides.”

“Once I visited a family whose baby was dying and they needed someone to keep their four-year-old daughter company.  We drew pictures and read stories and ate snacks and spent some precious time with her baby brother.  It was a very powerful experience.”

“I had a patient I used to spend time with so that his wife could go run errands.  This gentleman had Alzheimer’s and was usually pretty lethargic.  But he and I would play air guitar together.  You should have seen his wife’s face when she came home in the middle of one of our jam sessions!  She couldn’t believe her eyes.”

“When delivering holiday gift packs in December, by chance I met a Hospice Austin patient that is from my Dad’s little hometown, Ft Dodge, Iowa. We talked at length as if we’d known each other. Turns out we are two years apart in age and wrestled the same weight at different high schools in the state. This patient and his wife have become such nice friends. I attended their 40th wedding anniversary, and had them out for a boat ride on Lake Travis last weekend.  We’ve spent a number of days just talking about life and experiences, some of the most pleasant times in memory.”

These stories, I wanted to tell her, are only the tip of a very large iceberg spanning more than 30 years and thousands upon thousands of lives touched by our incredible volunteers.  Even though the word thank you doesn’t seem enough, we offer you our heartfelt thanks for all you do and for who you are.

Nancy McCranie
Director of Bereavement and Volunteer Services

Do you have a favorite story about volunteering with a Hospice Austin patient, or with working with a Hospice Austin volunteer? We would love to hear it! Please post it below or send it to nmccranie@HospiceAustin.org.

Repairing the World

If last week had been a fish, I would have thrown it back.  It seemed that we couldn’t turn around without encountering another heartbreaking story or situation.  The Boston Marathon bombing; the devastating explosion in West, Texas; a destructive earthquake in China; a dear friend admitted to hospice care; another friend just diagnosed with cancer.  It felt like the world was wobbling on its axis; that nothing was as it should be.  Times like these can leave us feeling disoriented and weak, as if the wind has been knocked out of us.  Where do you even begin in a world that seems irreparably broken.

In the Jewish tradition there is an ancient concept called Tikkun Olam, or repairing the world.  It grew out of a story from around the 3^rd century about earth’s creation.  It goes something like this:

At the beginning of time, God’s presence filled the universe. When God decided to bring this world into being, in order to make room for creation, God drew in a deep breath, contracting Himself.   Within that inhalation darkness was created. And when God breathed out the words, “Let there be light,” the light that came into being filled the darkness, and ten holy vessels came forth, each filled with a brilliant primordial light.

God sent forth those ten vessels, like a fleet of ships, each carrying its cargo of light. Had they all arrived intact, the world would have been perfect. But the vessels were too fragile to contain such a powerful, divine light. They broke open, split asunder, and all the holy sparks were scattered like sand, like seeds, like stars.

Those sparks fell everywhere…and that is why humans were created:  to gather the sparks, no matter where they are hidden.  When enough holy sparks have been gathered, the broken vessels will be restored, and tikkun olam, the repair of the world, awaited for so long, will finally be complete. Therefore it should be the aim of everyone to gather these sparks from wherever they are imprisoned and release them into the world. 

Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.  When the earth changes and the mountains shake perhaps gathering the hidden sparks and letting our light shine is the only true way forward.

Here is one powerful example of tikkun olam:

Last  Thursday an ER doctor at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston placed a pizza delivery order for the emergency staff at Hillcrest Hospital in Waco, Texas who were treating the victims of the explosion in nearby West.   He included a note of thanks for all their hard work from one member of the ER family to another. In his way he was gathering sparks, repairing the world.

Where do you find sparks of light?

What are three things you can do right now in the spirit of tikkun olam or repairing the world?

My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
So much has been destroyed.
I have to cast my lot with those
Who age after age, perversely,
With no extraordinary power
Re-constitute the world. 

~Adrienne Rich~

Nancy McCranie
Director of Bereavement and Volunteer Services

Woven Together

I cannot exist without in some sense taking part in you,
in the child I once was,
in the breeze stirring the down on my arm,
in the child starving far away,
in the flashing round of the spiral nebula.
~Catherine Keller~

            

                                            

Excuse me, the nurse said politely.  I looked up from my paperwork.

The patient in room five is actively dying, and the family is requesting the chaplain.

I put down my pen, pushed my chair away from the desk in the cozy office I shared with the Social Worker at Hospice Austin’s Christopher House, and made my way to room five.  Pausing at the door to quiet myself, I knocked softly, then entered.

The patient, an African-American woman in her mid-sixties, had been admitted just the night before.  The only sound in the room was her irregular, shallow breathing.   Her sister stood on one side of the bed, eyes red-rimmed, a wadded tissue in her fist, lips pressed together in grief.  Her brother stood at the foot of the bed; his head bowed, somber and silent.  As I moved gently to her bedside the patient, who was staring into the distance, turned her head slightly and looked directly into my eyes.  She then took three soft breaths, as delicate, it seemed, as a butterfly opening and closing its wings, and she died.  As the moment hung suspended between us, I didn’t dare blink or even move.  Reflected in her eyes I glimpsed the timeless truth that we are all connected, we are part of one another.  Ever since, I have looked for and found that same reflection in the eyes of others and in the world around me.

Can you think of a time where you experienced a deep connection with another person, a group of people, or the world around you?

Check out this wonderful link to see how quickly two strangers can connect while sitting in a ball pit talking about life’s big questions:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HfHV4-N2LxQ

 

 

Nancy McCranie
Director of Volunteer and Bereavement Services

Our Greatest Power

This is our choice in every moment. Do we relate to our circumstances with bitterness or with openness?
~Pema Chodron~

If you get the inside right, the outside will fall into place. Primary reality is within; secondary reality without.
~Eckhart Tolle from The Power of Now~

Our society is founded on a very limited definition of power, namely wealth, professional success, fame, physical strength, military might, and political control. My dear friends, I suggest that there is another kind of power, a greater power: the power to be happy right in the present moment, free from addiction, fear, despair, discrimination, anger, and ignorance. This power is the birthright of every human being, whether celebrated or unknown, rich or poor, strong or weak.
~Thich Nhat Hanh~

We have no power! my son, Patrick, yelled to me from the back door. It was a little after seven and my two teenage boys and I had just arrived at our home tucked back into the woods of our small farm in Bastrop County. The wind was whipping wildly and the moon was impossibly full, casting a silvery light as we unloaded backpacks and groceries from the car. Always looking for an excuse to light matches, my older son, Cassady, had two candles glowing by the time I got into the house.

What are we going to do? Patrick asked.

We’re going to light some more candles, find our flashlights, and carry on.

And that’s what we did. When my husband arrived we got out crackers and cheese, apples and peanut butter, chips and hummus and had a little picnic by candlelight. The boys told Aggie jokes to liven up the dinner conversation. After dinner, while my husband, Bill, and I chatted about our day, the boys played hide and go seek in the darkest part of the house until I decided that their unbridled exuberance was probably going to result in some sort of injury and made them stop. By then it was time to start getting ready for bed and so we brushed our teeth by candlelight, too.

We have plenty of power, I thought to myself. The power to choose how to carry on when the lights go out. The power to make a picnic out of a predicament. The power to savor this moment even if it’s not the moment I expected or even wanted it to be.

And to be perfectly honest, when the lights came on just before ten, I was a tiny bit sad our adventure was over.

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing:
the last of human freedoms –
to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances,
to choose one’s own way.
~Viktor E. Frankl~

Nancy McCranie
Director of Volunteer and Bereavement Services

Hearts and Ashes

It’s six o’clock on Monday morning Feb. 11th and I’m just shuffling off to the shower when I hear my phone receive a text message. It is from a teacher at my son’s former elementary school. Apparently, one of her fourth graders hadn’t come to school on Friday so she sent a text to the student’s mother to see if everything was all right. Around noon the teacher received a text back from her student saying that she couldn’t wake her mama up that morning and so she couldn’t come to school. Her mama, it turns out, had died in her sleep. The student would, of course, be out of school most of the week. But would I come, the teacher asked, and speak to her class to help them begin processing this news about their classmate and friend?

It has not escaped my attention that sitting alongside one another this week are Ash Wednesday, the day that begins the liturgical season of Lent when Christians all over the world contemplate the fragility and impermanence of life, and St. Valentine’s Day, the day set aside to celebrate love. Hearts and ashes. Grief and love. Sorrow and joy. Hand in hand.

I arrived at the school and the teacher, her eyes red and swollen, greeted me with a big, warm hug.

Thank you for coming, she said. I knew you would help us.

In the classroom were about thirty boys and girls talking, laughing, and wiggling; most of them oblivious that anything might be wrong. One or two of the girls, probably her closest friends, looked like they had been crying. A few worried looking mothers lined the back wall.

Boys and girls! said the teacher. May I have your attention! This is Mrs. McCranie and she has something she needs to tell you.

I had a slight moment of panic as I realized that it was up to me to actually break this news to these nine and ten year old children for whom the loss of a mother would likely be among the worst things they could think of. Taking a deep breath I made my way to the front of the room, turned to look at all those open, trusting, upturned faces and began.

I’m so sorry to tell you that your friend’s mama died on Friday.
I tried to be honest without causing them alarm.
Sometimes, I said, although thankfully, not often, mothers die when they are young and when their children are young, and when that happens it is very sad.

Because you see your mother every day! one little boy volunteered.

That’s right, I said, and so your friend will feel sad for a long time and she will miss her mother so much. The most important thing you can do is to be a true friend to her. What are ways to be a true friend?

Hands shot up all over the room.

We could write her a card, said one.

We could call her after school, said another.

We could tell her that we are so sorry for her loss, said still another.

And then came the stories, one after the other, a flood of stories of love and grief: of grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and pets they knew who had died. We, too, know this dance of loss and love, of hearts and ashes, they seemed to be saying.

Everything has a beginning and an ending, said a shy boy in the corner.

When I was five, a small, dark haired boy up front said slowly, my daddy died.

I felt my heart swell with pride at their bravery, their honesty, their generosity of spirit in wanting to understand and share in their friend’s pain, to lighten her load. I reminded them, reminded myself, to hug the people we love a little tighter, to tell them that we love them, to be kind to each other.

Hearts and ashes. Grief and love. Sorrow and joy. Hand in hand, each intensifying the other, calling out to us that life is precious and uncertain…and that our love for each other is what makes it worthwhile.

…Beautiful souls come forward and form the safety net of love that supports me on the way. Perhaps no single act is more consequential than reaching out to such a community and staying open to the healing love it offers. It is love reaching out to encourage the emergence of greater love. It reminds me of times when I’ve looked up into the skies and found a particularly bright constellation, a pattern of light shining without expectation or demand. A glow of stars that is simply there. And I know that unconditional love, reaching out heart to heart, is like that bridge of stars.
~Paula D’Arcy~

What reminds you of both the impermanence of life and the fierce tenderness of love?
How can you be part of a “safety net of love” for someone in your life?

Nancy McCranie
Hospice Austin’s Director of Volunteer and Bereavement Services

Valentine Bear Hugs

Every February when people all over the country are preparing to celebrate Valentine’s Day by buying candy or flowers, giving gifts or taking a loved one to dinner – all in the name of St. Valentine – my thoughts turn to leading an outreach drive to collect teddy bears to donate to Hospice Austin’s Christopher House. The teddy bears are given to patients experiencing anxiety and agitation to comfort them.

When I was in elementary school, Valentine’s Day was a very special day. Walking to a one room schoolhouse in the country that housed grades 1-8, I couldn’t wait for the school bell to ring to signal the start of the school day. The students placed their valentines in a big box wrapped in decorative paper and we waited patiently until the teacher said it was time to remove each one from the box and give it to the one whose name appeared on the valentine. For years, I saved those valentines and I looked at them often until they became so ragged from being handled it was impossible to keep them any longer.

Cupid is a 3,000 year old baby with wings who shoots love tipped arrows into unsuspecting people. It was the Romans who called him Cupid – a 3,000 year old god wearing a diaper. The Greeks called him Eros and the story claims that he was so handsome he could make one go weak in the knees.

When people started sending valentines in the 1700’s, the baby Cupid image stuck and it reminds us that love comes in all shapes and sizes. So do the adorable teddy bears that have been donated to Hospice Austin’s Christopher House patients. These soft, cuddly bears play a very important role in providing comfort to the terminally ill patients as they wrap their arms around their special “friends.”

Gretchen Baker
Hospice Austin’s Christopher House Volunteer

This year, Gretchen Baker and her loving family and friends celebrated St. Valentine’s Day in a very special way by opening their hearts and donating 229 teddy bears to the patients at Hospice Austin’s Christopher House. Thanks to Gretchen’s efforts, 700 teddy bears have been donated since 2008.

Transformations

There is a beautiful milkweed bush in the garden outside of room 4 at Hospice Austin’s Christopher House. It’s in full bloom right now, full of red and yellow flowers. Recently, Joyce,* the loved one of Hospice Austin patient Bob* in Room 4, was sitting on the patio and noticed a caterpillar struggling to form a chrysalis on the wall. She watched it, and then saw the milkweed bush was full of caterpillars. She showed the staff.

Soon staff, family members and other patients came to look at the caterpillars and chrysalis. There was a group of volunteers coming from Dell to work in the garden, so a sign was put up above the chrysalis to protect it and keep it safe.  The mystery and the miracle of the life cycle, embodied in the chrysalis, riveted everyone.

Later in the day, Joyce was out on her patio with the Hospice Austin’s Christopher House chaplain and social worker. The chrysalis was a beautiful jade color. She said, “It seems like a good sign that the caterpillar chose this spot.” She pointed to the wall and then to Bob’s room. “There’s a transformation going on right here, and there’s a transformation going on right there.”

Bob died the next day.  When the Monarch butterfly emerged from its chrysalis, the staff named it after him.  The Monarch stayed where it was for several hours, fanning its wings and growing stronger for its journey across the Gulf.  And then it flew away.

At Hospice Austin, we witness transformations every day – physical, emotional, and spiritual. The mystery and the miracle never diminishes.  Thank you for helping us create a safe place for these transformations.

Marjorie Mulanax
Hospice Austin Executive Director

note: names have been changed to protect patient privacy

Finding Steve

Curtis, Steve and Ellen

Just so you won’t worry, this story has a happy ending. It starts off sad, because Curtis, a 50-year-old Hospice Austin patient, had lost his cat, Steve, and normally lost cat stories don’t end well.  You may remember Curtis from a previous Season of Caring Campaign in the Austin-American Statesman. He was sponsored by Hospice Austin and given a trailer to live in. Last week, Curtis was in the process of moving his trailer to a different trailer park. Since I am a volunteer for Hospice Austin’s Pet Peace of Mind Program, I had driven over a week earlier to deliver a cat carrier to transport Steve to the new park.

On moving day, a couple of Hospice Austin volunteers had arrived with their truck to tow Curtis’ trailer to its new home; Curtis’ regular volunteer, Pete, was also there to help. The move was going smoothly until Steve decided to bust out of the carrier and bolt off through the parked trailers. There’s only about a gazillion perfect cat-sized places to hide.  Curtis and the other volunteers tried to find him, but eventually had to give up. Since Curtis doesn’t have a car, he couldn’t drive back to the old park to look for Steve.

The next day the news was relayed to the Pet Peace of Mind Coordinator who immediately contacted me to see if I would be willing to search for Steve. Well, within two minutes of receiving the email I was in my car with my 15-year old son, who has just gotten his learner’s permit. We interviewed neighbors and scoured the area. No Steve to be seen.
The next morning I picked Curtis up from the new trailer park and we went back to search, this time with missing-cat posters, tacks, and tape. We walked every square inch of that park. It was not looking good.  Every once in a while Curtis would stop and close his eyes and take a few long deep breaths. I could see he was making an effort to calm himself down.

We decided to drive over to the adjacent apartment complex to put up some of our lost-cat posters. Back at the car near his old trailer parking spot Curtis thought he heard a muffled meow and sat down next to his neighbor’s deck.  After 10 minutes of calling, a small black head suddenly appeared. Steve!

After their reunion, we managed to get Steve into a new, stronger carrier. Then Curtis opened his arms to give me a huge crushing bear hug that was wonderful. We were both ready to cry we were so relieved and happy. I knew that if we had not found Steve I would have been driving over to that park every single day probably for weeks to keep looking. We drove back to the new park and installed Steve in his old home where he immediately began weaving in and out of our legs and purring like a lawnmower. We celebrated their reunion with a can of tuna fish. It was a good day.  And I went home on a “cat high” that lasted all weekend long.

I am so grateful for the Pet Peace of Mind Program. Without this resource, Curtis would be heartbroken and lonely and Steve would be, well, never having tuna fish again. There are a lot of us animal lovers who volunteer at Hospice Austin but without this special program we would not get connected to people like Curtis who need us to help them with their pet problems.

And since we all need to be needed, everyone wins!

Ellen Macdonald
Pet Peace of Mind Volunteer