Angel Cards - no idea what day - Responsibility

Ugh, I have been so irresponsible about writing the silly blog. This, of course, is why the irony of the angel card on my desk is so darned ironic. Responsibility. Ha! I laugh in the face of responsibility! I don't like to admit that a 50 year old woman, pastor, mom, wife, daughter, friend, should be more responsible than I am. Grown up, even. Seriously, what is this aging stuff all about, anyway? I am certain this is all complicated by the fact that I see so much of what is ahead of me. Hospitals, nursing homes, deaths, memorials.....it can begin to make a person a bit on the depressed side.

Responsible for what? for whom? when? Do I always have to be responsible? Wiktionary says responsibility is, "Answerable for an act performed or for its consequences; accountable; amenable, especially legally or politically; Capable of responding to any reasonable claim; able to answer reasonably for one's conduct and obligations; capable of rational conduct;" Oh, come on, seriously, is this really what it means to be responsible? I've failed, I feel anything but responsible. I want to be a child. To play. To run and not be caught. I want to play the prodigal for as long as I can.

This is probably irresponsible writing....who knows who is reading this?! Oh, well, it's my stream of consciousness speaking - I'm not responsible!

Goodbye

I am not "feeling" the writing thing for the moment. I may feel different tomorrow. Today one of the dearest members of our congregation died. Now, I think I have probably done close to 50 or 60 memorial services in my 8 years of ministry, and I want to say, that in some way, I'm really good at death, dying, bereavement and comfort. I have been in numerous rooms and homes with dead and dying bodies and it does not freak me out. I find something very beautiful in death. I see so many similarities to the birthing process of a mother. This morning when I went to see M. she was struggling to breathe and was in a fair amount of distress and struggle. I left her room around 12:30 pm. They had just administered some morphine and in the 10 minutes before I left, I could see she was beginning to ease a bit. I got an email that she had died around 2 pm. Once the tension was released, the process of dying was quick and, I hope, relatively painless.

All of this being said, I'm sad. M. was 89 years old and she went to church her whole life. She told me numerous times that she was ready to go home. Her husband died last July and her daughter died a number of years ago. She loved her family and was a very smart woman. She had her mind until nearly the end. I will miss our talks. She would always apologize for being a burden. I would always tell her she was a gift. I know she was ready, but I was not.

I really don't understand why God wants us to feel this sort of pain and loss. It makes no sense to me and as a minister, well, that's a pretty risky thing to say. All of this turmoil could simply be the after effects of turning 50 in October. Whatever the reason, I don't like it.

Poets say it best. From Mary Oliver's "When Death Comes:"

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world

- Mary Oliver