In Thy Packing and Thy Unpacking…

 

In thy packing, and thy unpacking,
God is there.

In thy sorting, and thy disposing,
God is there.

In the questioning and the waiting,
God is there.

Despite aching muscles, tender hearts, hurtful words, and self-doubts,
God is there.

Though I struggle, wonder, and rest in the uncertainty,
God is there.

When I am hurt, tired, frustrated, or just plain DONE…
God is there.

A heart to heart talk

2hands

I asked my patient,
“How are you, my friend?”
As his tired hand rested in mine.
We have a history of many visits,
Many hours,
Many thoughtful words…

“I’m dying, you know,” he said softly,
His voice rough with the years
Of hard work and prayer.
“But it’s Ok. It’s Ok.”

We sat in a quiet and friendly silence
As we listened to the birds outside,
The hum of the electric fan oscillating back and forth
In a buzzy counterpoint.

I hummed a quiet hymn or two,
Letting my voice wrap him in the sounds of his faith.
He dozed in the soft, fading light,
Then stirred and asked,
“Can you read to me from the Good Book?
Where we left off?”
And so I did, holding his hand,
Reading in Matthew 5
“Blessed are the poor in spirit…”

“My daughter,” he said,
Her spirits is pretty poor.
She’s closer to Heaven than I am.”

I looked at him, emaciated, wheezing slightly,
Leaning back in his easy chair,
Content and at peace.

“Aren’t we all needing Heaven the most
When our hearts are hurting and our spirits are low?”

He nodded sagely, smiled at me, and closed his eyes.
Then he drifted off, both of us contented and comforted
From our heart to heart talk.

 

 

Photo credit: Photo Credit: “I Do!”, © 2010 Yogendra Joshi, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Here’s What I Know

At the airport

It was a seemingly random phone call as I sat waiting for my flight at the airport…

“Here’s what I know,” I said,
As I watched the criss-cross of people,
Hurrying here and there,
Carrying bags and talking on phones,
Rushing like there’s no tomorrow…

“We don’t know how much time we have,
So make every minute count.
Stay in the moment,
But think about how you act today
Will impact tomorrow.”

“Impact what?”

“Oh…” I said,
“Your loves.
Your goals.
Your standards.
Your heart.”

“But how will I know if I did the right thing?”

I sat for a while,
And rocked back and forth.
The smell of fresh pretzels
And the sound of wheelie bags overwhelmed my senses.

“I think it’s simple things,” I said.
“Whether you built a bridge or burned it
Whether you showed love or indifference,
Whether you showed grace or sat in judgement,
Whether you left people feeling welcomed in,
Or shoved out.”

“Those aren’t simple things.”

“No… they aren’t. But they are everything.”

It was just a random phone call.
But it turned out to be prophetic.

God, help me hear and respond with love to every call…

I have no words…

2014-08-04 19.49.57

I have
no words
to share
what’s on my heart.
I have only
tears
and prayers,
and the promise
that You, O Lord,
will walk through this valley
with me.

I have
no wisdom
to give
in this place of grief.
I have only
hugs
and tissues,
and the blessing
of knowing Your peace,
as our hearts
are in pieces.

I have
no tears
to cry
because (quite honestly) my well is dry.
I have only
the promise
of the resurrection
and that You, O Lord,
watch our laboring steps
and shower us
with Love.

Rev. Deb Vaughn
June 26, 2016

I Will Hold Your Story

In my work as a chaplain, I am privileged to listen and reflect with those who are brought into my circle of care. I am not the only one who listens to these patients. Nurses. Social workers. Physicians. Nursing assistants. Even the food service and environmental service staff! We all are part of the patient’s journey towards Wholeness, and (sometimes) wellness. We provide services, relieve pain and pressure, and make sure the patient’s and family’s needs are heard and met.

Sometimes in hospice work, however, we do not have tasks we can do. We provide the gift of Presence. Of listening. Of hearing and holding stories. It is a privilege, a sacred Calling, and a blessing.

 

Patient
© 2011 Medill DC, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

I Will Hold Your Story

When the time comes, I will hold your story.
I will listen to the words you do not say.
I will honor the memories that spring to mind,
suddenly, wildly, impetuously,
as if they must be remembered.
They must be said aloud or be forgotten forever.

When the time comes, I will hold your story.
I will laugh with you
(even though it hurts to laugh)
until the tears rolls down our cheeks,
and we gasp for breath,
As if you will never laugh again.

When the time comes, I will hold your story.
I will hold mementos and souvenirs.
I will cherish photos with you.
I will look at faces from your youth,
faded on paper, but not in your heart.
I will help you speak their names.

When the time comes, I will hold your story.
I will honor your faith.
I will celebrate the loves of your life.
I will clean my cheeks with my tears.
I will lift a glass in memory of your life.
I will remember…
And then some day,
Someone will hold my story, too.

When the time comes…

Rev. Deb Vaughn, 6.8.2016

Take a breath

  
At first glance
the snow is piling up
on branches and cars.
It’s not much
just enough to frost the world
in loveliness.

I watch
as fat flakes fall
and the sky brightens.
Time to start my day,
driving,
charting,
seeing patients,
offering prayers,
listening, and
waiting.

But first…
I take a breath
as I remember and reclaim
Whose I am
and offer thanks
for the beauty of this day.

A deep breath…
I feel peace and wisdom descend.

Blessed be.

I Held a Hand

hand Photo Credit: © 2014 Carodean Road Designs, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

I Held A Hand

I ended my week
in a quiet space,
music softly playing
and the afternoon sun
playfully dancing on the walls.
Sleepy, drowsy,
my patient slept,
unaware that I sat
praying, singing, reading Scripture.
I held a hand,
not knowing if my presence registered
at all.

In the quiet,
the soft light,
the songbirds outside
sounded like trumpets.
Eyes opened, blinked,
“I hear the birds!”
A smile crossed my patient’s face.

“Yes!” I replied
“I think it’s a robin!”
“Robins! I love to watch them hop!”
Just as quickly,
The recognition faded,
eyes grew vacant,
the body relaxed.

I sat beside my patient
softly praying
and waited for that next glimmer
of the person that was.
And still is.