Nov 28 2020 - Luke 19: 41-48

[Y]ou did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.

This is the bit in Luke’s Gospel right after Jesus comes to Jerusalem and weeps over the city, and right before he enters the Temple and overturns the tables. Bad things will happen to you, because you did not recognize God’s presence in your midst. 

True, Jesus- God incarnate- was in their midst.  But with God’s gift of the Holy Spirit, isn’t God in our midst even now? Do we recognize it? As Jesus laments, do we recognize the things that make peace? 

Tomorrow, in my tradition is the first day of the new Christian year, the first Sunday of Advent. That would make today the Christian equivalent of New Year’s Eve day.  Today, I’m going to do all those New Year’s things that we do associated with the secular calendar on Dec 31.  

Review 2020 – Phew.  What a year!  My boss announced his retirement, we elected a new Bishop to serve as my boss, and I still really enjoy the good work I get to do in the midst of all of that change.

After having previously sold our house and car and moving into a downtown apartment, 2020 brought us to buying a house and car, and moving out of downtown into a lovely neighborhood.  

My sick loved one was hospitalized seven times, for a total of over three months inpatient hospitalization.  Over a quarter of the year. They remain in the hospital but are expected to return early next week. With better meds, and the assistance of our guardianship, they appear more stable than they have been for all of 2020.  

Upon their release, they plan to travel to Seattle to stay for a few months with biological relatives. My deep hope is that this is a lovely time to reconnect with family. Previous visits have not ended well, so I’ll prepare for a quick trip to Seattle, in case we’re needed to retrieve our loved one. And hope we don’t need to. 

Plan for next year – 

My day job will remain unsettled, as my new boss and pastor begins in the end of January.  I hope to help with a smooth transition.

We will be finished with building a second floor porch on our house. It’s mostly just for my husband and I, and will serve as a sleeping porch, and an outdoor respite, when things at home are cooky. It’s feeling a little like all of those home makeovers, when the couple is reintroduced to their bedroom, renewed and peaceful.  Good space really does make a difference, especially for me. 

My loved one will start the year on an extended visit. That will either work well, and help cement a sense of independence, or it won’t. With everything we do, we will aim to be nimble, and always supportive. 

We will likely have gained guardianship, which I suspect will make caretaking immensely easier.  

So back to Jesus and God’s presence.  I’ve no doubt God’s been present this year. I don’t always have a sense of peace, but frequently. And sometimes I feel peaceful in the midst of absolute chaos.  That must be God’s presence.  Next year, I aim to continue in my daily prayer, and also bring that sense of God’s imminence throughout my day. Happy New Year’s!

Nov 20 2020 Psalm 102 & Update

But you are always the same

This psalm is a litany of sadness. My days drift away like smoke, my bones are like hot like burning coals. I lie awake and groan. I wither like grass. Woe is me. I appreciate these lamenting psalms. They feel genuine and heartfelt. The fact that these raw emotions are in our Scripture give permission for me to lament. Some days indeed, I lie awake and groan. I know that I’m not alone. The psalmist, and people throughout time and space lament. It’s part of our human experience. And in the midst of our lamentations, God is present always. As the psalmist says, You are always the same. God will hear our groans, and be with us as we weep and wither. Like a good good friend, God will sit with us in our pain, sometimes able to speak to our sorrow, sometimes just being present, but unlike a good good friend, God is present at all times, in all places. 

For me, this feels like a perfect psalm for now. I weep, or groan, and those are acceptable feelings. Between the continued pandemic, political strife, or illness, we have plenty to lament. It’s as if we’re in a season of lament. This contrasts starkly with the upcoming holiday season. Marketers are trying to convince us that the season of ho ho ho is upon us. The advertisements look more out of place and ridiculous. Just by this jewelry or those toys and all will be well. Other years we may buy that line, but this year, it seems patently impossible. 

In my faith tradition, we celebrate a season of Advent, which is the time of preparation. We generally avoid “Christmas decorations” until the Christmas season, which begins on Christmas eve and continues through Epiphany, or the 12th day of Christmas. Advent is a time of stillness, darkness, quiet, preparation. This year, it feels like it could also be a time of lamenting. But that lamenting is not without resolution. Christmas comes. God is present. God is unchanging. In the midst of our emotional, societal and physical ups and downs, God remains constant. 

This morning, I’m thinking about the volatility of our life, compared with the constancy of God’s presence and love. My loved one remains in the hospital, and while the doctors will assess our loved one’s health weekly, it’s very possible they’ll remain in the hospital through November. 

Yesterday, we spoke to our loved one on the phone because they called and said they missed us. We talked about all sorts of normal things: the movies they’re watching, what’s for dinner, possible housing options upon their release. It was a delightful, and nearly normal conversation. The good call was the result of three weeks of hospital care and pharmacology, and distance between a young adult and their parents. (What child in their early 20’s would feel like they had to live with their parents?) The call left my husband and I with a reminder of why we’re doing this, and who we’re doing it for. Our loved one remains in that body, ravaged by this insidious disease. 

That conversation contrasts starkly with the conversation we had after their previous 7 day hospitalization. Upon exiting the hospital, they demanded cigarettes, and when I asked them to drink their brimming cup of coffee down so they didn’t spill in the car, they poured the coffee on the car. On the ride home, they rode with their hand out of the window, flipping everyone the bird. But from their constant stream of vitriol, they weren’t flipping everyone else off, just my husband and me. 

Supporting this child of God is not a sprint, but rather an ultra marathon. We cannot do it or justify it based on the sweet appreciation we hope to receive from our sick loved one. Often they lament, and they have definitely more to lament than I ever will. And their lamenting looks like anger. But at its core, it’s lamenting. For us, and for them, God’s love never changes. God remains the same. It’s that constancy I depend on, in the midst of all of life’s changes. I’m reminded of a beautiful prayer that is contained in our prayer service before bedtime. 

Be present, O merciful God, and protect us through the hours of this night, so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Nov 14 2020 James 2:1-4 and an Update

My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat here, please’, while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there’, or, ‘Sit at my feet’, have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? 

This is the first weekend in a long, long time, that I’ve not been dealing with weekend work obligations, or complications from my loved one’s illness.  It feels like time to sit with a cup of morning coffee, look out at the grey sky, pray the Daily Office, and reflect. And I must admit that I’m a bit distracted with what’s going on with my loved one. I’ll attempt the former prayer reflection, and conclude with the update.  

And to start, I’ll say that I love our tradition’s Daily Office. It includes prayers, and songs of prayer (also known as canticles), and scripture.  Every day, there are parts that are the same, praying the Lord’s Prayer every morning, for example. This creates a sense of rhythm for every 24 hours.  Every morning, I can know there is something the same as yesterday’s prayer time.   Every day there are parts that are different, with a seven day cycle, so the canticles on Saturday mornings are the same, creating a sense of weekly rhythm.  And there are parts of the morning prayers that repeat every three months (psalms) and others that repeat every two years (scripture).  Doing this morning prayer for any amount of time creates a sense of order in my days, weeks, months and years.  If I were to add in evening prayer, I’m sure this would be amplified, and someday. . . 

This morning’s scripture reading is from James, and is another great bit about not being judgmental.  If we value the wealthy over the poor, we are not really living Christ’s commandment of loving our neighbor as our self. When we read this in scripture, it seems easy to assent.  Of course, we should love the poor as much as the wealthy. To do otherwise seems uncharitable. We imagine the poor helpless widow, or the orphan child. Of course we should help them.  

The hard part is when we each think about our own personal judgment scale. What if instead of referring to the person in fine clothes versus the person in dirty clothes the reading referred to the young professional and the addict.  Or the kid at violin lessons and the kid in the gang.  Or the liberal and conservative. Or the pink cat hats and the red ball caps? 

We all have someone who’s considered the other, someone we judge as less.  And yet this reading continues that whoever shows partiality is convicted by the law. Now, more than ever, we people of faith need to love. We need to love everyone without judgment and without partiality. Period.  

And now an update.  Our loved one remains in the hospital. After much prayer and consultation with lawyers, investigators, and dear friends, we decided to pursue guardianship.  We talked with the lawyer a week ago, and yesterday had a telephone hearing with a judge, and were awarded temporary guardianship. A more permanent arrangement will require further investigation, and the appointment of an attorney for our loved one, and another court hearing. 

Guardianship means that my husband and I can have two-way conversations with our loved one’s care team, as opposed to be shut out because of privacy laws. We can offer our input, and it matters.  We can apply and sign on behalf of our loved one. It’s a lot of added authority, and with that comes a sense of the added responsibility. 

But in just 24 hours, we’ve been involved in more meaningful conversations than we have in the past 2 years. We’ve discussed previous hospitalizations with current doctors, and provided much needed and previously unknown information about effective versus ineffective medicine. We’ve talked with intake workers about possible independent housing options that previously we couldn’t.  We’ve talked with nurses, in response to our loved one claiming they were allergic to the only medicine that resulted in their ability to hold a job.  It’s been exhilarating, and I slept well last night. 

The responsibility is real.  The medicine our loved one believes she’s allergic to is both effective, and very strong.  It has significant possible side effects, some of which could be permanent. And yet, it’s the only thing we’ve seen that makes them stable.  All of a sudden, with a judge’s signature, our information and consent to the doctor means that our loved one is going to be forced to take a medicine that they dislike, at least while they’re hospitalized. And our loved one claimed to be allergic to the medicine, and with a simple call to us, that objection is dismissed and the meds are prescribed.  We also may have the authority, working with the doctors, to assure she is hospitalized long enough to get more stable. This is a level of responsibility and authority the State was clearly unwilling to assume. It was easier for a judge to sign over our loved one’s rights to us, than to the State.  And maybe that’s a good thing.  

In any case, it is a lot, to now be responsible for not only my life, but also my adult loved one, who has a lifelong illness. Our deep hope is that we can exert this authority just long enough to get them stable and more independently housed, and at that point step back and help them be as independent and happy as they can, from a place of more stability. And while it feels like a lot of responsibility, it’s also wonderful to be able to continue to help our loved one, more than the illness previously allowed. 

This morning, I’m thinking about God’s providence. How God is present with the court employees, investigators, privacy advocates, social workers, lawyers. I don’t know how next month or tomorrow will turn out.  But God does.  And with that knowledge, I will aim to do my part in God’s plan.  

Nov 7 2020 Update

So our loved one remains in the hospital.  They’ve finally gotten a bed in the inpatient unit, after too many days in the emergency room.  They refuse to see us, and have called only to ask for particular things they think they’ll need because they’re planning on moving out upon their release – social security card, money, socks.

It turns out that the investigator does not believe our loved one meets the criteria for a commitment hearing – harm to self or harm to others. I’d love to rant about how the stolen hammer to kill their husband, or the bottle cocked to throw at the police might constitute harm.  And I know there are lots and lots of other people who have actually harmed themselves, or harmed someone else, while my loved one hasn’t.  It’s incredibly frustrating, as this is their 7th hospitalization this year, ranging from 3 days to two months. Each hospitalization started with either a police or mental health assessment that they should be held and treated. But it’s a long way from a 3 day hold, to an actual commitment. 

Commitment means that a court has stripped away their civil liberties, and the state has assumed those inherent rights – freedom to come and go, freedom to take care as you see fit.  It is a really big deal for someone to be committed.  And while I’d love the assistance, perhaps I should be glad that my loved one isn’t as sick as those who are committed.  And I’m tired. 

So in mid-November our loved one will again be released from the hospital, and again – as of now – has no intent or interest in returning to our home. They have no intent – as of now – of allowing the hospital to share information about their treatment or release. Every preceding hospitalization has started the same, and every one has ended up with our loved one returning to our home; the alternatives are crap.   But it’s always been a bit of a hustle, to figure out when they’re being released, and what the plan is supposed to be.  We do get engaged when the social workers finally make a discharge plan when it involves us, but that seems to be late in the game. 

This time, things are a little different.  Mid-week, the investigator who suggested state commitment wouldn’t likely occur because standards weren’t met, contacted us to see if we’d considered or would reconsider guardianship.  This is another serious stripping of someone’s civil liberties, but it is done because they are incapable of making sound decisions. We haven’t decided, but either way, the next few weeks will be rough.  

Our loved one will still likely be released mid-November. If they change their mind and decide to return to our home, it’s only because there is no other better option, which will make for an unhappier return.  If we do decide to pursue guardianship, they’ll be notified, be given an attorney, and we’ll have a court date, after a couple weeks of investigation. If our loved one doesn’t want to provide a release of information for the hospital, I’m quite certain they wouldn’t be pleased with this option. 

As a parent, I absolutely understand we need to do what’s best for our kids.  This kid has a significant, lifelong illness, with significant lifelong implications. I want their life to be happy, and I want all the things we all want for our kids.  I don’t want to strip away liberties, but then again, I also don’t want them to be sick.  

This week, we decide how we want to proceed.  Regardless, we will also strive to salvage the relationship that is so splintered because of this illness. 

Yesterday, they called and asked for all of their social security money to be deposited in their own bank account. As their representative payee, it’s my job to help manage the money so it’s available for basic needs, so no. I was not willing to simply deposit the money in their account.  After a good amount of colorful language, we talked about coming to visit.  They asked us not to come today or tomorrow, but maybe later in the week.  All right, we said.  Please let us know if you need anything. And know that we love you.   I don’t need anything from you, was their reply.  Silence.   And then softer, I love you too.  

Nov 4 2020 The Practice of the Presence of God

We should not become weary of doing little things for the love of God. God regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which the work is done. We should not be surprised if in the beginning we often fail in our endeavors. In the end, we will develop a habit which will naturally produce acts through us without effort, to our exceeding great delight.

Brother Lawrence was a brother in the Carmelite order in Paris, in the mid 1600’s. He was relegated to working in the kitchen, a role he did not like when he began. He practiced many spiritual disciplines, but eventually threw them all out. He claimed that to assume a practice created a sense of division, between his everyday life, and his spiritual life. It also created in him a sense of failure, assessing himself as a failure, when he couldn’t sustain a practice as other Carmelites, or when he didn’t sense God’s presence.

Instead, he decided to practice the presence of God in his every day world. While washing dishes, chopping and preparing meals. And with this practice, he increased his sense of God’s presence in the every day. Eventually others sought him out to learn from him.

I’ve always liked the idea of Brother Lawrence, but it was only on this little trip away that I read the book. This is how I want to be, how I try to be.

Sometimes I get swept up in a spiritual practice. Sometimes it feels like it does give me a better sense of God, or a learn something about God or my relationship with God. Sometimes, like Brother Lawrence, I feel like I am not doing it good enough. Or I act like a cad until I start my ‘practice’, as if there’s a switch that’s been flipped.

Some of my practices – morning prayer, writing and reflecting, are done in a way that imbue the rest of my day (or at least my morning) with reminders of who and whose I am. I can walk through the valley of the shadow of death, fearing no evil, as the psalmist says.

This morning, I’m thinking about all the little ways I can practice the presence of God.

Personal update – my loved one spent four days in the emergency room, because there were no appropriate beds open in Portland. They will stay in the hospital for five days and then be released, unless one of two things happens. The first option is that they agree to remain for treatment for two weeks. If they agree to this, they will likely stabilize enough that they would be released in two weeks. If they don’t agree to this, the other possibility is that an investigator will determine that they are a sufficient risk of harm to self or harm to others that a commitment hearing is scheduled. Commitment basically means that their care and decision making is assumed by the State, for a period of normally six months.

Yesterday, the investigator informed us that they were not likely to recommend a hearing, as our loved one did not meet, or just barely met the standards for commitment. The investigator also tried to obtain the voluntary 14 day extension, with a yes, no, maybe, no, yes, no response. Hopefully today, we’ll find out whether our loved one is scheduled to be released in two days, fourteen days, or whether we are required to appear before a judge for a contentious and heartbreaking hearing.

We’ve been to a similar hearing before, and we were asked to testify that our loved one could not take care of themselves, and were a danger to self. All the while, our loved one sat at the other end of the arbitration table, complaining bitterly about our treatment, lack of love, and lies about their competency.

In any case, our loved one does not currently want to speak to or see us. Once they are moved from the emergency room, it’s likely we will obtain no information about their care or release, unless we are asked to appear at a hearing. It is likely that our loved one will walk out of the hospital far from stable, with no housing, and no plans to return to our home.

I can do nothing about any of this. Except walk through my day practicing the presence of God. When I talk to the social workers, or try to talk to my loved one. When I get ready for morning prayer. When I go downstairs and get that first lovely cup of coffee from my hosts. When I check the news. God is present. Undoubtedly.

Nov 2 2020 Psalm 130

Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice


After a very busy few days, I’ve escaped to the home of old friends out of town. I sleep, eat, return to daily prayer and writing, and sleeping more. Last week, I worked hard on pulling together our annual church convention, and with COVID, it was all online. That included figuring out how to assure the attendees of the meeting were the registered delegates, how to vote, worship, and celebrate our retiring bishop. There was a whole team working on it, and everyone worked and stressed. But the convention, held on Saturday went quite well, with participation from people throughout western Oregon. That would have been enough to warrant a few days of recovery.

Meanwhile my loved one was increasingly symptomatic. The police arrived at our home on Thursday night, in the middle of the night, because our loved one had called the police on us. They arrived, she screamed, they listened, they left, she yelled more.

Friday night, I went to bed early to be ready for Saturday’s convention. In the morning, we discovered that our loved one had taken a glass flower vase and thrown it into the street, leaving glass all over. We checked their room, and it was empty, a mirror broken in the bedroom. At that, I headed off to my 7 hour meeting.

When I got home, I learned from my husband that our loved one was outside the local hardware store, along with police and paramedics. I rushed up there. It turns out that our loved one had first walked to a stranger’s house about ½ mile away, and gone to the door asking for a hammer so they could kill their husband. The startled homeowner called the police. My husband had already called the police and alerted them to our loved one’s absence, so when they received this report, they knew who it was. Several hours later, our loved one apparently walked about a mile to hardware store, in stocking feet, and took a hammer and walked out of the store. They proceeded to the grocery store, where they stole some food and beer. By this time, the police had arrived responding to a call from the hardware store. When confronted by the police, our loved one resisted and threatened, and eventually was handcuffed and put in the back of a police car. When I arrived, my husband was talking to the police and our loved one was sitting in the car.

The plan was to transport them by ambulance to a psychiatric unit, and likely admit them. Being over 21, and refusing to give us information, we may or may not be notified of when and where they’re transferred, although I suspect the investigator will call to learn more, and we may get information then.

Meanwhile, my husband and I have been asked to participate in a parent subcommittee for legislation designed to clarify the standards for involuntary commitment, and since Friday, we’ve both written one page statements in support of the proposed legislation. The current legislation is vague enough that it has effectively been defined by the county, state and federal courts who’ve heard cases about ‘harm to self’, ‘harm to others’ and ‘unable to meet basic needs’. Where we live, it has been effectively defined as imminently at risk of suicide, homicide, or serious injury because of inability to care for oneself.

There is strong and committed opposition to the proposal, primarily from people with ‘lived experiences’ or people with mental health issues. Unfortunately, from my perspective, the people who are opposed to the legislation are not as sick or unaware as my loved one. My loved one may not homicidal, but I’m deeply saddened that I saw them walking away in handcuffs be immediately, an image I will never forget. They need treatment before they are handcuffed, and certainly before they actually harm themselves or others.

And so today, I rest. I pray. I cry out to God, and wait patiently. I’m not at all certain how this is going to resolve. I will take care of myself so I’m ready for whatever’s next.