Ambiguous Loss

A friend loaned me this wonderful book (Ambiguous Loss: Learning to Live with Unresolved Grief, by Pauline Boss), and it has been helpful both as I provide care in the hospital and as I deal with my own losses. Pauline Boss explores a variety of ambiguous losses, including family members emigrating overseas, dementia, terminal illness, and missing persons. I am reflecting on how my life is touched by each of these kinds of loss. I'm coming to understand that these losses have colored the way I grieve, and the way I relate with my family. Some of these patterns are healthy and enrich my life, such as my attempts to insure my dad's independence and ability to live at home even as he ages and becomes frail, and some have been limiting, such as my distance with my mother around the time of her mortal illness.

I've come to wonder whether most losses are in some way ambiguous. Even sudden, definite losses, such as losing a spouse to a heart attack, can lead to patterns of denial and uncertainty. Joan Dideon's The Year of Magical Thinking is an excellent portrayal of just that situation. Grief is a process by which we make new lives that include loss; grief takes time. Whether the loss is sudden or gradual, grief takes time.

Aging Parents

Last night over dinner with friends, our conversation turned to that all too common topic, how do we deal with the situations of our aging parents. We especially struggle as our parents lose their strength and mental ability. We wish they'd give up driving, but know that is unrealistic, if they are to live independently. We worry about their finances, and pray they will give us more oversight and control in these areas. We agonize over their relaxed attitudes about medications and therapies, even when these attitudes have led to 9-1-1 calls and hospital stays. Our attempts to engage paid caregivers or other resources are rebuffed as intrusive and extravagant.

It is especially hard for those of us live half a continent or more away from our parents. Too many around us assume that if we really cared, we'd move back close to our parents, or uproot our folks and drop them in some care facility near here. This is, I think, the universal fear of our elders.

To complicate all this are the varying expectations of our siblings, especially those who are acting as on-site caregivers, or have done this in the past. Who makes the hard decisions? How do we balance safety and security against independence and freedom? I'm beginning to think that question touches deeper concerns than our aging elders. What do you think?

Photo by RebelBlueAngel

Service of the Living Tradition

What a beautiful Service of the Living Tradition! Victoria Safford's sermon "Remind Us Again, Brave Friends" was perfect for the occasion, as she spoke of our role, and call, to offer blessings to the world, and we do this even in our imperfection, which gives permission to others to live in their imperfection.

I was privileged to be among those on the stage, receiving the blessing of preliminary fellowship. I felt deep gratitude to be in this body, to process to the stage surrounded by many old friends and good peers, and to have so many others looking on, a congregation both in the hall and over the internet. In my robe I found an old package of tissues; I was glad to have them.

I have loved the transition in form of the Service over the past couple of years from honoring the individual to honoring the gathered body; from an ersatz graduation ceremony to a service of religious covenant. This year, we did not walk across the stage, we did not even stand when our names were called. Instead, our images were projected on the screens as we were named. Thus, this roll call included those who did not come to General Assembly, either out of protest or for other reasons. Some effort was made to discourage shouting for individuals, and generally that worked: just a lone shout here and there, rather than cheering sections, as has happened in the past.

Some of my Starr King buddies and I retired to Waxy's pub for continued celebration; it seemed that half the congregation had reconvened there that night.

Next steps?

My little life has been a busy one for the last few weeks. I've been focusing on completing the paperwork for preliminary fellowship in the UUA, so that I may join some of my fellow seminarians and ministers at the cermony of the Service of the Living Tradition at General Assembly in Florida, next month. I used to have real ambivalence about this ceremony, just as I have had about most graduation ceremonies, but I have come around. I'm looking forward to this, especially processing in the company of peers.

I've been accepted into a chaplaincy residency program at United Hospital in downtown St. Paul. This nine-month program will give me the necessary clinical pastoral educational credentials to work as a chaplain in many hospitals and related settings.

There are several motives for choosing this chaplaincy program. I remain focused on ministry in the parish, and have sensed, and been advised by several I trust, that a year of chaplaincy will only make me more effective in parish ministry. I also realize that finding the 'right' parish position might require some flexibility, so having the credentials to work as a chaplain could be useful. I'm excited about this program; two good friends in ministry were quite persuasive about the quality of the program. Finally, Liz and I just weren't ready to pick up and move so soon, after just a year in these wonderful cities. Even after this winter.

Thoughts on Grieving

I've been the officiant for a couple of memorial services recently. To prepare, I speak with the family, and write an eulogy, prayers and other words, and help them choose readings or hymns if they wish. I'm finding this work is emotionally challenging on many levels. Certainly, I'm helping people who are in various states of grief. Sometimes I connect and offer help, and sometimes I fear I'm of little help.

I also find myself triggered, and my own grief is stirred up. We usually include a brief 'Words on Grief', and in this, we remind people that every loss brings back every previous grief and loss they've suffered. I'm finding that this applies to me, too. One of the recent services was for a woman who was a nurse in the War, and this brings back thoughts of my mother. I can't normally share this with the grieving people, so I carry it elsewhere. But it is there, and in a peculiar way, I appreciate that this comes up. It is a gift that comes with serving people who suffer a loss, that I can connect with that suffering through my own past losses.

Photo by Milad Gheisari [Sepulture {regret}]

Member of the Wedding

One of the gifts of ministry is to be invited into some of the most tender moments of people's lives, and this is particularly true when one prepares and conducts a wedding ceremony. Like most people in Unitarian Universalist ministry, I like to start with the couple's 'location', their religious and family background, their wishes and needs, and craft a ceremony that fits the couple's location and is appropriate to my understanding of theology and aesthetics. I expect the couple to write their own vows, and to read or repeat them in the ceremony. This is a surprise for some, and many couples want to modify or avoid this step. It would certainly be easier to use a template, but most do find the result far more satisfying in the end.

Often couples come to the initial meeting bringing a sample ceremony from some other tradition, and this leads to a heartfelt conversation about whether that ceremony really fits them. Even if it does, I may modify it so that I can be comfortable officiating it. For example, I modified a ceremony that came from an American Buddhist tradition, because to use it straight would have felt culturally inappropriate for me, not in the Buddhist tradition, to perform. In the end, it is the creative process that I love, as much as the ceremony itself, and I am happy to see that love connect with the love of the couple and their gathered community.

Photo by Jeff Belmonte

Three Memorial Services

This was a busy weekend at the church. At a time when many of the fall programs are hitting their stride, we had three deaths in the community, and the three memorial services were scheduled for this weekend. It couldn't be helped. As Rev. Janne says, "we don't say no to a memorial service" for one of our extended community. Thus, I found myself helping out, trying to be a pastoral presence, a source of calm in the swirl of activity around such services. This, while I lit candles, set up chairs, and handed out orders of service. I was just one of many wonderful staff people and volunteers that offered their help.
I observed different levels of involvement by friends and family at these various services. I'm realizing that some people need a high level of activity immediately after a loss, possibly as a way to cope with their intense emotions around the loss. For others, such activity may just add to the chaos, and they may avoid even attending a memorial service at all. Such people may even ask that a service not be held for them after they die. But I do believe that the memorial is for the living: in the weeks and months that come after a death, the memorial service becomes an important memory and a clear way to mark the closing of a chapter in the lives of those who live on.

Image by Magnus Forrester-Barker