One Thing at a Time

Have you ever had a book you avoided reading? There has been a lovely devotion book on my shelf for some years that I never read. I have no idea if someone gave it to me or if I picked it up at a book sale. The cover is inviting and the title is simple and concise. “One Thousand Gifts” by Ann Voskamp.

I opened it up and thought I would find a typical devotion book about the sea,the trees and the wind. The opening chapter is not like that at all. It is about the death of Ann's younger sister and how the event changed and damaged the entire family – forever.

Then she begins to speak about how we recover from tragedy. Actually, it is Ann's story about her journey. I recommend the book. This book coupled with other events has made me more aware of mindfulness.

Mindfulness is the practice of paying attention to this moment. Being present in your own life. Philosophers and theologians more skilled than me have repeatedly called us to the practice. The changing seasons provide each of us with the opportunity to begin a new practice in our lives.

Walking in your neighborhood, Running down the trail, sipping a cup of coffee – look at each activity as a moment in itself. Don't just gulp the coffee and run out the door. Taste the coffee and savor it's aroma. Notice the sound of your shoe hitting the ground and your breath moving in and out of your body.

In decisions and work, spend time on the work itself. Studies have shown we are happier when we are focused on what we are doing. Whatever that is. Work or play. When we are always trying to be somewhere else our happiness decreases. (Matthew Killingsworth, Harvard University. Track your Happiness project).

It is also the process of considering what your action is and will be in relation to the end result. That means we are called to consciously decide our path. With each option in our lives are we choosing peace or violence. The world would benefit as a whole from this process. I can't change the world. I can only offer my journey with Voskamp's insights.

It means being aware of what brings you joy. The gurgle of a grandchild. The sky streamed with light. We all can be nourished by absorbing those moments --  completely. Be in the moment. Find your joy. Voskamp takes the spiritual challenge to write down 1,000 things she loves. It improves her awareness of each moment. I can testify it is difficult in the beginning.

I'll let you know how it goes.

I have done a lot of funerals.  A lot of funerals.  I keep a book where I write every Baptism, Wedding and Funeral.  The names and dates of the people are there.  There are many more funerals than there are Weddings and Baptisms.  That fact has never bothered me.  I like funerals, but some of them are weighing on me.

I entered ministry and Chaplain work at the end of the AIDS epidemic.  We were seeing people die every day in 1991.  There were babies who died of AIDS.  There were young men and women were dying.  There were mature and older men and women dying.  At the time I thought it would never stop.  And then it became a thing of the past.  People die of AIDS these days, but there are not more people dying of AIDS than other diseases.

I believe I now I stand at the beginning of another epidemic.  The Alzheimer epidemic.  All the questions and all the answers are difficult. All the decisions the families have to make are hard.  They have to work through these decisions with very little guidance.  It is not sweet like a movie.

Death is always sad and touching.  We stand with the family as they mourn.  Our American tradition entails us remembering the person in stories and pictures.  We look at our loved ones and each other on sunny days at the lake or blowing out the candles at a birthday party.   When I am preparing the funeral sermon, I ask families questions .  "What was the funniest thing your Mother ever did?"  "How did you and your husband meet?"  "What did your Dad love to do more than any thing else?"  Those are living questions.

The questions are about who the person was and how they lived their lives. "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:19 (NRSV).  The way we spend our time and our lives tells us what we value.

I have begun to notice something in Alzheimer families.  The families lost the patient a long time ago.  The sons and daughters have trouble remembering their mother before this muddled person moved into her body.  The wife or husband struggle to find that thread of who he or she was before they fell silent.

The weeks, months, perhaps even years, have been difficult.  The person can get on a track and you cannot distract them from the phrase or the idea.  In that moment, you wish they would forget what they are fixated on. And we -- the wives, husbands, sons and daughters-- begin to forget their smiles and laughter.

I have come to understand an even more tragic aspect of this disease.  The person forgets themselves. They loose who they are and were.  You and I can remember being 6, 13 or 31.  In the end even that is gone. 

Who are you?  Who am I?  Can you think of forgetting who you are?   It is so difficult to understand.  I might forget myself.

Peace
Ann

Has Paris changed in 30 years?  Sure.  Sometimes for the better.

I lived in France, Belgium and the Netherlands in the 70s.  I was in each country long enough to know how to get around the area and to be able to follow directions.  Last month I got to go back to Paris for the first time in 30 years.  A lot of things have changed and many have stayed the same.

The first thing I notice in Paris was that it smelled better.  I always remember the smell of Paris.  The Metro smelled of old sweat, urine and mold. The diesel smell from the buses and delivery trucks was so strong in the 70s you could choke from the fumes.  Then just when you thought you would not survive around the corner came the aroma of fresh bread.  Ahhh, the afternoon baking was finished and fresh Baggett and Croissant were ready. Many an afternoon I would grab a Croissant on my way home on the train.

Now buses are electric or hybrid.  They hold more people and run quieter.  The camions seem smaller and can fit in even smaller spaces than ever before.  In my opinion the Metro was cleaner.  My husband and son-in-law thought there was a great deal of litter.  However, I do not remember ever seeing a cleaning crew sweeping the streets 30 years ago.  Now every morning as we left the apartment, there were men in blue coats unloading equipment from the small truck.

There are now in Paris public toilets on the street.  They have an automatic cleaning feature and will serve an emergency very well. They have replaced the old toilets that were for men only.  Those old features were a corrugated circle that covered the essential parts of the gentleman.  The drainage always seemed insufficient and certainly added to the smell.

Parisians are still in a great hurry.  They want to get everywhere right now.  The afternoon Metro was very crowded.  Sometimes I thought there might be a pusher to get a few more people on board. What surprised me was not the young men jumping the toll gate.  I had always seen that.  Now there are inspectors in the train stations.  One evening we were checked twice in one trip on the Metro.  It seems they are after us tourists who come to Paris and don't pay any attention to where our tickets are after we verify them. The lessen was to keep up with your tickets.  I handed one inspector 3 canceled tickets in my pocket and he deciphered which one he needed.

Now buses are electric or hybrid.  They hold more people and run quieter.  The camions seem smaller and can fit in even smaller spaces than ever before.