This past week was a difficult one. We had to admit Lynn (my husband) to hospice care. He will still be at home, but his declining physical and mental conditions require more help than I can provide by myself. And, honestly, I can also use the services hospice provides to relieve caregivers of the constant stress associated with tending to the needs of a loved one. I have been receiving a few hours of reprieve each week as friends have spent time with Lynn, but hospice will give me some additional time to myself, to take a few deep breaths and renew myself.
In my last post I talked about things not working out as planned. The deterioration in my husband's mental health is an example of an unplanned for situation. I had hoped that his mind would stay healthy for much longer though, in reality, I knew this would eventually happen. As we've welcomed hospice workers into our home, and dealt with the reality of an ugly disease, I am reminded, everyday, that I get to choose how I will respond to the changes that are taking place.
President John F. Kennedy once said, “As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the
highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”
I'm always encouraging others to be grateful. So, in this situation, how do I transform that encouragement into the very gratitude by which I live? How do I choose to be happy? How do I gratefully embrace something that is so much less than what I wanted?
I've found a few habits that are very helpful:
First, I pay attention. I especially like the idea of paying attention to putting away something good and beautiful everyday. At my age I've had plenty of opportunity to do that. It's become a habit; one that I relish. I like to think of every beautiful song I hear, every uplifting thought, every passage of hopeful scripture, every inkling of inspiration, every positive exchange with friends, as a treasure stored away against a time of need.
This past week, as I came to know it was time for this transition to hospice care, I struggled. Who wouldn't? I struggled with how this would affect Lynn. I struggled with what I might have done differently to put off this inevitable decision. I struggled with why God would answer my prayers for Lynn's well being in this way. I awoke early one morning and a verse of scripture came to mind. It wasn't a passage I had ever consciously committed to memory, but I had passed by it on several occasions in my study of the New Testament, so it was stored somewhere in my mind: "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." As I searched for the location of these encouraging words (John 16:33) I was further comforted by the message at the beginning of the verse: "These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace". The message was so clear, and so beautiful. Christ, who has suffered every hurt and sorrow that I am now experiencing, and more, was encouraging me on, and assuring me that everything is okay. This is difficult, but it is to be expected as part of this mortal experience. He is leading, and I have only to follow. I'm glad I was paying attention.
Second, I listen. To handle life gracefully and with gratitude, I find it helpful to listen. I love to listen to beautiful music. There are many musical compositions that I thoroughly enjoy. Pachelbel's Canon in D is one of my favorites (I'm listening to it right now). It never fails to touch a very deep place within my soul; and it reminds me that there are extraordinary gifts all around that speak to me of peace, comfort, and renewal when I am weary and life is hard.
I also love to listen to the sounds of waterfalls, and birds singing, and children laughing, and thunder booming. When I am going through difficulty or disappointment, I seek out these things, and I listen intently. All these sounds remind me that I am in the middle of a living, moving, breathing world that is filled with exciting power and joy. I can choose to be a part of that world or, in my pain, I can withdraw from it. Why would I want to withdraw? I feel so much uplifting energy as I remain in touch with these blessings! I have only to listen.
Third, I look. I look in the mirror and quietly thank God for my capacity to handle this situation, and the opportunity to embrace this passage of service to my husband. I look, as well, at the comfort in which I live. My needs are taken care of, and my wants, though of necessity modest, are met. I look at my friends and realize there are many; and any one of them would (and often does) step up to the plate to help me when I have a need. I also look at flowers and skies and stars and new babies and smiling faces. I don't begrudge them their beauty simply because I find myself turning gray, or because I must help my husband with his daily personal care, or because life has dealt me a less than perfect hand. Everyone has his own less than perfect hand. I am no exception, but my life can be exceptionally rich and rewarding as I enjoy its beauties. I have only to look.
Fourth, I breathe deeply. I breathe in fresh air (at the odd times it's available between these two mountain ranges). When I can, I love to breathe in the scent of pine and lilac and ocean spray and lavender oil. I often breathe in the smell of morning toast, and beef roasting, and marigolds, and apple pie.
There is a reason that scented candles and essential oils are such big business. Certain smells uplift us. They help us to breathe more deeply, and relax more fully. They give us a sense of well being and comfort. They can help us to sleep, or invigorate and energize us. I always keep essential oils on hand and, especially in times of trouble or stress, I make sure I can recreate a favorite scent in the kitchen or in the bath. Then, I have only to breathe deeply!
Fifth,I read. I read something beautiful every day: scriptures, poetry, an inspiring story of personal struggle and triumph, a short inspirational passage from a favorite author. I read and I read and I read. Sometimes I even read aloud. As I use both my eyes and my voice the message becomes more firmly recorded in my brain, and I can more easily recall it in a moment of need.
The following is a favorite poem. I love the sense of recognition and gratitude it expresses:
*Otherwise
by Jane Kenyon
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the wall, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
So often the written words of others can offer a renewing and informative experience. I have only to read.
And so it is. There is much to be grateful for, from the mundane to the extraordinary, in times of constancy and predictability, or in times of stress. There are abundant blessings to pay attention to, to look at, to listen to, to breathe in, and to read. They uplift my soul and fill my senses with the joy of life. Somehow, in the presence of these treasures, the sorrows of life grow a little smaller; the pain becomes a little less intense; the hope a little more brilliant; the gratitude a little more keen. Collecting these treasures, storing them up against a time of need, and gratefully using them as necessary, has certainly helped me to navigate a difficult week. They have long helped me to navigate my life. Were it not for services like hospice, the help of friends, God's creations, and the beautiful works of composers and writers, it might, indeed, be "otherwise".
("Otherwise" by Jane Kenyon, in Good Poems, Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor, 25-26; Penguin Books, 2002).
