Showing posts with label canser. Show all posts
Showing posts with label canser. Show all posts

27 October 2012

Gardening


A dozen or so of us
helped Eric with his garden
today.

A cookie jar
that he would take to his
wife, Elaine,
and say, 'The jar is empty,'
and she'd fill it
with wonderful home-made
cookies
sat on a shawl of hers.

Today, though,
the jar held Elaine's
ashes
and we gently and lovingly
scattered them in her
garden midst the rows
and plants now
fallow
awaiting the spring blooms.

And while some chose to
wash their hands after
scattering these holy ashes,
I did not,
preferring instead
to let them seep into my skin,
to take Elaine's spirit
into my hands
only to lift them up
to the sky
and commend her
to God.

05 October 2011

Keeping Vigil

This week a lovingly-made sachet [the purple square with butterflies at the base of the vase] of rosemary arrived from California. It is no ordinary sachet but a holy one for interspersed with the rosemary (for remembrance) are some of Kirstin's ashes. Before the snow falls, which could be any day, a couple of us will gather to commit them to God's care in the orchard at Church of Our Saviour, Killington, VT.

Church of Our Saviour is a tiny congregation that worships in a Norman-style 1895 stone church. Located on the Killington Flats, deep in a valley, the church has long ministered to the local community. These days, it is deeply involved in reaching out to those affected by the flooding caused by Irene. Some of the worst flooding happened here, as attested to in this photo:

(The pickup still is nose down in the pavement.)

In any event, Church of Our Saviour has historic connections with Holy Cross and some of the priests who have lived there have kept to the Benedictine way of life, labour is prayer. The church has had a working farm off and on and now there is a resident baker (who makes excellent fruit tarts which are sold at Monastery Greetings), who also is the church organist and maintains a Benedictine pattern of life. The church is always open for the way-farer and since the mid-1990s has revived its guest house ministry. There are now walking trails up above the church in the hills to enhance the sojourner's time.

So it is in this context that some of Kirstin's ashes will be interred. The apple trees had a good crop this year. Her life will become part of Our Saviour's.

Meanwhile, I keep vigil, placing the sachet by the 1000 peace crane arrangement that Kirstin received from her cat-sitter a year ago. Kirstin's laughter, stability, clarity and commitment to God and God's creation help me maintain steadiness and hope in this incredibly stressful time in my life.

'I believe in the Communion of Saints....' Don't know how else I could make it.

02 July 2010

For Kirstin


as she starts chemo today... for A who walks with her, and Kirstin's circle of prayer people...

16 June 2010

The Canser Beast


has raised its head again for our internet sister, Kirstin. For those of you who do not know her on Facebook, or her blog, Barefoot and Laughing, she lives in California, has graduated from seminary and works with the homeless. She just got this news: got the PET scan report back. Metastasis to lungs and bones, "several other places." Waiting for another doctor to call me back and tell me more. Prayers please.

She desires your prayers greatly.

31 May 2010

Happy birthday

in spirit to Naomi who would have been 27 today. She loved parties and so her family had one (I couldn't make it) with cake, volley ball and all the rest. Apart from the smoke from the forest fires in Québec, they had a glorious day on which to remember Naomi.

Here was the birthday girl two years ago today in a new Red Sox t-shirt, a silly crown on her head... celebrating a birthday we all knew in our hearts would be her last on this side of things. We just didn't realise she'd be gone two weeks later.

Naomi's lilacs, one at my place and one at her family's, have not yet bloomed but they are lush and green. The blooms will appear in and around her the anniversary of her death.

Meanwhile, the peonies are beginning to bloom. Not until two years ago did I really pay attention to them; now I do because they were in full bloom as she was dying. There is one peony blooming here as well as at church. They may also be in full bloom up at Naomi's house.

Two years.

Hard to believe.

But... it is what it is, as Naomi said early on in her canser struggle.

Hey, Naomi... stay with us in our hearts.

08 December 2009

Go watch this

Thanks to la bonne Grandmere Mimi



the description as it appears chez Mimi which came third or fourth-hand

Our daughter-in-law, Emily (MacInnes) Somers, created, directed and choreographed this in Portland last week for her Medline glove division as a fundraiser for breast cancer awareness. This was all her idea to help promote their new pink gloves. I don't know how she got so many employees, doctors and patients to participate, but it started to really catch on and they all had a lot of fun doing it.

When the video gets 1 million hits, Medline will be making a huge contribution to the hospital, as well as offering free mammograms for the community. Please check it out. It's an easy and great way to donate to a wonderful cause, and who hasn't been touched by breast cancer?

And a clarification from the comments section:

Sort of true and sort of false. According to Snopes - Medline does contribute a portion of profit on the pink gloves but will not be making a donation from hits on the youtube video.

13 June 2009

Into the second year

Yesterday afternoon from 3.00-4.30, we remembered Naomi as we marked the first year of her death (3.20 pm). In the Native American tradition we observed, she is now free, and we are free to speak her name again. In the Christian tradition, she has been a member of the Communion of Saints from the get-go. And so we blended Christian imagery in the blessing and sprinkling of water, the water of baptism and of life and resurrection, on the herb garden where her marker will go (we had hoped to set the marker yesterday on the one-year date but it was not finished), on the gathered people, we passed the peace pipe, we sang the mourning song we sang a year ago as we entered the church, we spoke those things we wanted to say to Naomi, we danced to mark the end of a year of sadness and welcome new joy, even though the grief will always be there, and Naomi's parents gave away favourite things of Naomi to those gathered, the start of a different type of letting go.


Before the ceremony, Naomi's aunt laid out these symbolic things: a coyote pelt (for wisdom) under the tortoise shell containing Naomi's ashes, stakes representing the four compass points, a stake on either side of the tortoise shell representing heaven and earth; tobacco for the pipe ceremony; sage for the initial smudging of the space and people gathered; herbs to offer at the end of the ritual.


After the ceremony came photo time (this family documents everything). Naomi's aunt is to the left, and her mother to the right. I am wearing a shawl Naomi was given at a gathering of the community — I wanted to wear it in lieu of a stole. In my hand is her first Scrabble game board. She took it with her to college and judging from the tattered state of the box, she used it a lot. I am honoured to have it. Maybe using it will actually help me win on occasion.


And here is crazy Mr Gifford a year later. He is a big leggy boy.

10 June 2009

A year ago tonight


I drove down to the hospital after vestry to see if Naomi was still alive. I met and held her new cat who, at the time, had no name. The hospice suite probably had ten of us hanging out with people in and out of Naomi's room. We had no idea how long she would live other than not for long. And so we all just waited. Our hearts all were breaking as the inevitable stared us in the face and yet we went through the pretenses of smiling for the camera, laughing as we could and just holding up one another.

Last week, I went up to the family's for what would have been Naomi's 26th birthday. We planted a mock orange tree, had her favourite birthday cakes and wrote messages to her.

I managed to find her cat, Gifford, snorkled down inside blankets because he's always chilly. He has turned out to be a big cat but still incredibly spoiled.


He is looking at me as though to say: Huh? What are you doing with that flashy thing in my face? And how come you pulled all the covers down and then pulled them back up again?

He apparently got spooked or something and jumped onto Naomi's mother's head, hitting her so hard that she thinks he either broke or bruised her nose and then planted all his claws into her head. Needless to say, he did not make himself terribly popular with that move.


Requiat, Naomi. Yes, this is the turtle shell pouch that holds her ashes. Gifford has pulled the blue jay feathers off it several times and the family has put them back. And there's now a small plastic blue jay at the left end of the shell pouch. The purple Guatemalan tela is from my last Sunday at Saint Mary's (or could be one that I gave her as a bookmark).

A friend of the family, J, wrote this poem which I have been reading since the 31st:

Naomi

Nearer to heaven she pulls
All witnesses of her
Orquidean beauty
Moonlight pales
In the wake of her eternal force.

This Friday, the one year mark, we will gather at the house, at the time she died and perform the Native first year ceremony and fling holy water liberally and hopefully place a marker with her name in the backyard.

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I think this reality underlies my fatigue in dealing with other people's stuff as I have been and shall be the rest of this week. Once Friday is past, I can start breathing again.

13 December 2008

Yesterday

It is hard to believe that six months ago yesterday, half a year, have passed since Naomi died. It was a glorious June day and now we are in a world encased in ice. A year ago she was praying for hope, going in and out of the little and big houses and wanting so to be home for Christmas (which she was).


Here she is with a good friend during Christmas break last year, 'chilleaxing,' as she called it.

Naomi, I hope you are chilleaxing to the max now... in the Native tradition, you're halfway there to the eastern door. In the Anglican tradition, you're already there in the Communion of Saints... regardless, you are here and there and in our hearts.

24 September 2008

The morning crankies


Go at the below Mad Libs style and fill in the blank.

I just can't believe how ADJECTIVE the US electorate is.

Meanwhile, I listen to NPR's report on polls and cringe thinking of how Hilary voters are going to vote for Sarah Palin, how hunters are going to vote for McCain, how people are going to go with McCain despite one of his managers getting paid by Fannie Mae, now under FBI investigation for fraud, and denied it even though he was getting paid by them monthly.

But we don't care about our presidents having brains (I don't care if the president is someone who 'is like me' or 'is someone I can relate to') or some shred of honesty, or worry about the Supreme Court, or how a $700 billion (is that right?) bailout of Wall Street with no strings attached, handing all of it over to the Executive Branch and the US Treasury, is going to affect our children's children, a 'crisis' created by avarice. Maybe this really is the sunset of the US empire.

Maybe I am grumpy because I have a painful canker sore in and around the site of my temporary crown. I can only think of Naomi whose chemo gave her such huge canker sores in her mouth so she couldn't eat. I sympathise. This is minor compared to that but does get in the way of swallowing.

Grump.

[later] from the Slate Doonesbury site:

"We do not support government bailouts of private institutions. Government interference in the markets exacerbates problems in the marketplace and causes the free market to take longer to correct itself."

-- Republican Party platform, 2008

Uhuh.

[even later] Maureen Dowd has a great one-liner about Mooselini: '[She's] the first pure Rovian Republican, grown totally in the petri dish of cultural crusaderism.'

14 August 2008

A year ago today (updated)


As the article below states, it was a year ago today that Naomi learned that she had cancer and this crazy, crazy ride began.

Her mother posted on the Caring Bridge blog this morning:

i don't know how many people are still getting notice of Naomi's site but i hope many of you are. Although i have not been able to do the updates as of my last entry on June 9th but i promise that i will soon. i just wanted to share with everyone that one year ago today we received the phone call, while Naomi was in the hospital in VA, that she had cancer. And so our jounery began and will continue for the rest of our lives. Our plans are to scan the senior speach that Alicia read, the reading from Jessica and many wonderful pictures of our last days together. Thanks to all of you who were a part of her life line and i hope you continue to be a part of ours.

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And today her mother gave me this sweet grass with the wind chaser and, most important, two blue jay feathers she found this morning.

I have it safely up high out of cats' reach and in a spot I can see it always, from my computer desk.

After dinner, I will scan two photos she also gave me that Frank took of me blessing Gifford and Naomi two days before Naomi died and just before the kitty shower that the nurses gave for her.

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I scanned just this one photo because the other is pretty much the same. Frank took it of me as I blessed Gifford — you can make out his little face below my right hand.

By the time I arrived on the scene, Naomi was worn out from all the photo taking (see previous post — the photos of her with her family, her pediatrician who delivered her, and her and the cat were all taken half an hour before I arrived). However, she specifically asked for a blessing of her cat (who was nameless at the time) and so I blessed him and then blessed her.

If you are wondering about the propriety of putting up such photos suffice to say that eventually her family is going to be putting them up on her Caring Bridge site. This is a family that takes photos of everything. So I don't think they would mind this here.

Motorcycle Run This Saturday

from the Gifford Medical Center:

Ride to benefit Last Mile Fund


RANDOLPH - Gifford Medical Center will hold its annual motorcycle ride for those in the last mile of life on Saturday.

The Last Mile Ride leaves Gifford in Randolph at 10.00 a.m. for a 100-mile guided tour that passes through Nfld (the intersection of Routes 64 and 12) around 12.45 p.m. The ride ends back at the hospital with a barbecue lunch, live band and prize awards for top fund raisers.

Money raised from the annual ride benefits end-of-life patients like Naomi Drown of Nfld, whose last days were spent in Gifford's Garden Room suite for dying patients.

Naomi grew up in Nfld, the oldest of six children, energetic and outgoing. She danced, participated in school plays, and was artistic and athletic, playing soccer and softball. She loved Scrabble, her American Indian heritage and being involved in her central Vermont community.


.... in March of 2007, when she moved to Virginia to begin life on her own, athletics were again a part of the mix. She worked as an aquatic director in a fitness facility.

It was there that the young athlete suffered an injury. "She was jumping rope and broke her foot," her mother Sandra recalls.

Thinking it was a minor, hairline fracture, Naomi waited before visiting a Virginia doctor. When she did seek medical care two weeks later, an X-ray revealed what medical professionals there thought was an infection in her foot. Surgery was scheduled.

"They were going to scrape the bone and take out the infection, but when they got in there, they knew that it was a tumor," her father Frank says.

A biopsy was taken and on August 14, 2007, at age 24 Naomi was diagnosed with cancer. The Virginia doctor told Naomi at her bedside and then immediately phoned her parents in Vermont.

"I just started screaming, 'no,'" her mother Sandra recalls at hearing the news her daughter had cancer.

"Get her home," was family's next reaction, says Frank.

Sandra flew to Virginia the following morning, packed up Naomi and her things, and drove back to Vermont for a 10-month battle with an evil even greater than first imagined.

Naomi had Ewing's sarcoma — a rare cancer that affects both bone and soft tissue and generally is found in children during puberty when bones grow rapidty. And, worse yet, Naomi's cancer had matastasized.

Tumors were found in her spine, shoulder, and lungs.

"When I brought her back (to Vermont), there was an 80 percent chance that she would be cured. Once it metastasized, it became a 20 percent chance," Sandra says.

Ups and downs, elation and devastation, and lots of travel, followed.

The family put 40,000 miles on their car driving between Beth Israel Deaconness Medical Center and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in Lebanon, NH, and Gifford Medical Center in Randolph.

After a bad reaction of a chemotherapy drug, Naomi initially showed drastic improvement, the family says. "We had this epiphany of hope," Sandra says.

Then bad news again. The cancer was growing and spreading again, and Naomi was getting sick. Her blood and platelet counts were falling, leaving her susceptible to illness. Finally at the end of April she had to stop chemotherapy.

Pains, fevers, difficulty breathing and hospital stays at Gifford, — the Drown's longtime health care provider — followed.


"She went into the hospital on Mother's Day, and she had pneumonia, "Sandra says, tears springing to her eyes, as she relates her daughter's decline.

Naomi returned home only twice after that — once in May for her sister Aurora's 10th birthday and then on June 8th for sister Alicia's baccalaureate. Alicia was chosen as a speaker, and her speech was about Naomi and her disease. On oxygen and in a wheelchair, Naomi listened as Alicia spoke of the fleetness of time. "I learned about time, how precious it really is and how little we have, how every moment should be cherished and used to its fullest because who knows how long it will last, and before you know it, poof, your moment's gone," her speech concludes.

By the end of that evening, Naomi was back at Gifford. She hoped to live until Alicia's high school graduation on June 14. But she ran out of time. She died on June 12.

Naomi wanted to return to Gifford's Garden Room following her sister's baccalaureate because she was in respiratory distress and scared. "Gifford had become her safety net. She felt very comfortable there," Sandra says. "Her feeling that comfort gave us a point of relief."


The Garden Room includes a private patient room with French doors opening to the hospital's Courtyard Garden and a small living area for family members. Naomi celebrated her 25th birthday there.

"I planned this huge surprise party," Sandra says. "The room was overflowing with family and friends. It was wild."

And when Naomi returned to the suite on June 8, it again was filled with loved ones. At least 30 family and friends converged on the Garden Room for Naomi's last days. "Everybody was there," her father says.

They slept on pullout couches and cots, were fed by the hospital's kitchen staff and sat with her in the garden. "We love to be outside," Sandra says.

Naomi had free massages and acupuncture for pain management, and in the early morning hours of June 10 welcomed a rather unlikely but anxiously awaited visitor — a hairless kitten.

Her family had the kitten flown in. Frank drove to the airport in Burlington in the middle of the night to retrieve it, and the following afternoon, hospital nurses held a "baby" shower for the cat that the family has since named, "Gifford."


"It's a boy," read balloons. The kitchen staff brought up a large cake and "literally the whole corner of the room was gifts for Gifford," Sandra says, smiling at the memory.

"Stuff like that would really have been unheard of someplace else," she says. "Those are the memories that will be with you forever."

It had been Naomi's and her family's wish for her to die at home. On June 11, they came by ambulance to their Union Brook address, where cars lined the streets and the house bustled with family and friends.

A post on a blog Naomi maintained during illness reported her death the following afternoon: "Our sweet Naomi passed away this afternoon at 3.25 p.m. surrounded by her loving family. She passed peacefully and was in no pain. Heaven has a beautiful new angel today."

Many of the special services Naomi received while at Gifford were paid for the by the hospital's Last Mile Ride fund, which was created with money raised each year at the ride.

Pam Fournier is Gifford's palliative care manager. "We try to tailor care to the families and what they need," she said. "For me, the Last Mile Ride fund made things possible. It just helps me think outside the box."

Having the daughter's needs met meant the world to Sandra and Frank. Knowing motorcycle riders from Nfld and many other area communities helped provide those services through participation in the ride is all the more meaningful, Frank says.

A former rider himself, Frank recalls the saying popular with particularly Harley enthusiasts: "'Ride to live. Live to ride.' It fits what they're doing for the Garden Room, because the Garden Room in a lot of situations is the last ride."

"God bless you for doing this," he tells motorcyclists joining Saturday's ride.

For more information on the ride, log onto www.giffordmed.org, or call 802.728.2380.

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The Drown family today

Frank Drown of Northfield describes his late daughter, Naomi, as “a girl not afraid to speak up. And she was a very likable girl.”

“A very lovable girl,” corrects 10-year-old Aurora, Naomi’s sister and Frank’s second youngest daughter.

The Drown family is equally lovable, and incredibly loving. Close knit despite their size – now five kids and mother and father – the Drown family has spent the two months since Naomi’s death on June 12 at age 25 living out some of her final wishes.

She had hoped to make the family’s annual trip to the beach in Maine this year, and so the family went, coloring shells in her memory and tossing them into the ocean. She wanted to clean out an old herb garden behind the family’s home and plant it anew, and so they did. She wanted to go camping, so they went. And she wanted to go to Parc Safari in Canada, and so the family is planning to go.

Weekly visits from a home health therapist help the family cope. And while talk of Naomi brings tears to mother Sandra Drown’s eyes, much of the discussion and family interaction is surprisingly upbeat, warm and laughter-filled.

They still have “Gifford” the cat. Naomi, who was allergic to cat fur, wanted a hairless cat. Her family found one just days before her death and named it Gifford because it had stayed with her during her final days in the Garden Room for dying patients at Gifford Medical Center in Randolph.

Now five months old, the cat, which feels like the fuzzy skin of a peach, is all ears, bulging eyes and scrawny legs. The family carries him around the home like they would any beloved pet and joke that “he’s so ugly, he’s cute.”

12 August 2008

I must go to the hills again

FINALLY! Today was one of those Vermont days for which we all live. There was no way I could continue to sit in the house in front of this computer. However, I couldn't jump in the car and drive somewhere to go up something interesting like Hunger Mountain or Camels Hump. Not enough time and my wrist is way too sore for poling up something. So I headed out the back door and up to Cheney field, a large open expanse of field that now is owned by the town but used to be where the Cheney farm was. I have special affection for Cheney farm because one of the descendants who grew up there was a member of the parish. He had the most amazing blue eyes.... he lived a very simple life, one would say poor, but he was a sweet person. He died in 1998 (?) and his ashes are now in our columbarium.


I decided to park myself in the northeast corner of the field, up close against the forest that leads to the mountain ridge to the east. Looking north, here, one can see the Worcester Range. The large bump is Hunger Mountain which, amazingly, I haven't gone up yet this summer. Fall, I will.


Looking to the west. Beyond the ridge is Camels Hump. When you drive over the ridge, you can see it, but from here, you have to get much, much higher in order to see it. The group of buildings to the right of the picture is our school complex; right by it also is the Catholic church. The one road you can make out in the middle of the photo (not to be confused with the powerline cut further to the right) is the one that leads up to Naomi's house. Her family lives about 1800 feet above where the church is located. Today makes two months since Naomi died and it has been a year now since she was diagnosed with Ewings. I spent a bit of time looking out that way....


We sit on top of a mountain of slate. Here's one of the quarries, right up behind the church. Someday I need to bring down some small pieces down as coasters. It still amazes me to see all the slate.

So I stayed up on the field for about an hour, reading, gazing to the north, west and south and simply enjoying the beautiful day.

Then I came down the former ski area liftline (when I first moved here, the towers were still up for the chair lift). It is incredibly steep as is most of the ski area. The university closed it in the early 1990s because insurance cost too much. My brother came here in the early 1970s to compete in nordic skiing and jumping and went off the jump at the university and ate at the predecessor of the restaurant where I had lunch (breakfast actually) on Sunday.

Now the thunderclouds are building up in the west. We'll surely get a storm later on. I read somewhere that the eight inches of rain we had in July would translate to 15 feet of snow. How about that!

11 July 2008

Friday cat blogging

returns!!!


And 'Meh' to you, too.


The World's Best Cat Sitter found the blue chenille cover at a yard sale for $1.00. We think it enhances Miss Agatha Birch Funky Paw's colouring. And the WBCS also bought her that toy. (MABFP has yet to figure out that these things exist for play.)


On one of the hot, hot days, la Doyenne decided to lie upside down in her basket under the chair.


Likewise, the Kid tried to turn himself around in the basket and got all turned around instead.


La Doyenne demonstrates how one properly should sit in the basket. This is a post-prandium post.


See how well my orange friend has healed? His fur is almost all grown back.


I went up to visit Naomi's family today since tomorrow will mark a month since she died. Gifford, who now is four months old, spent the entire time on my lap during my visit. These aren't great photos because I took them myself but you can see that he's still happy with his funny paws (his toes look like fingers). He apparently is a total goof, shadow boxing, dancing around on his hind feet, and if he's not playing, constantly on someone's lap.


He is a warm little fellow. I didn't hear him purr but he purrs and talks quite a bit when his people are outside. Note his striped tail. He has been adopted by everyone in Naomi's family; he is not lacking for attention. Even their dog washes his face; he looks rather surprised when that happens.

Naomi's family is doing. They've planted a herb garden — she had wanted to do that and had talked about working in it. Well, she's working there in a different way. Her death still touches and affects us all.

21 June 2008

A minuet of a different sort


The purchase of a syringa minuet, i.e., a minuet lilac, a miniature late-blooming, butterfly-attracting, sweet, sweet-smelling lilac, didn't take very long yesterday but planting it will take the rest of the day. There's figuring out where to put it; then there's chopping down two maple saplings, then digging up the roots (making sure not to stretch my poor thumb ligament the way I did Memorial Day when I landed hard on a root with the shovel and my thumb gave whereas the root didn't), getting rid of the blackberries nearby and finally trying to dig its hole which undoubtedly will entail some rock excavating. This is known as planting shrubs in the hardscrabble soil of Vermont.

However, once planted, if happy, this lilac will be a way to remember Naomi because it will bloom around the time of year that she died. Normally, I plant bulbs to remember people but I wanted something more substantial in this case.

The yellow/black butterflies are already flying to it and settling in its trumpet-like flowers, getting the nectar they need. These butterflies were prevalent on the flowers outside of Naomi's house the afternoon she died and so the butterflies will remind me of her, too.

On another day I will photograph the shrub in its place; for today, the image is one dragged off a web page somewhere.

Apropos of earlier digging endeavours, all thirteen of the asparagus planted Memorial Day are sending up tiny asparagus shoots. They survived! In a couple of years we'll be able to enjoy them (as long as the blackberries don't take over as they are wont to do).

There's so much to do outside and I still also have to buckle down to prepare my talks for El Salvador next week, ay. However, it's a gorgeous day so I am throwing caution to the wind and going digging.

[update] It is now raining gently on the newly planted lilac. As predicted, it took far longer to prepare its site than to purchase it. I dug up one nice flat rock that now is part of the retaining wall by the asparagus and then I started digging up another big rock. But it kept going on and on and on... and when I tried to dig deeper for the lilac, there was more rock. I gave up because we think I had hit ledge. Meanwhile, there were more roots to get rid of (from two maples that Compa chopped down). All told, planting the lilac was a three-hour procedure. It will live near another lilac, Miss Kim, also a fragrant, late bloomer. Then, if you line up Minuet with Miss Kim and look back up at the house, you will see the garden-variety plain lilac that came from someone's back yard years ago.

Err, now it is not raining so gently. So I stay downstream until it eases up. I know cats have been fed by the world's best cat sitter and I can work on tomorrow's sermon here just as well as up there. If I tarry long enough here, I will simply stop at the hamburger stand en route home ;)

17 June 2008

Let It Be

There are lots of flowers out that are associated with Naomi...


First, glorious peonies. I never really paid much attention to them but I should because there is a huge peony farm in town that is famous. Toward the end of Naomi's stay in the hospital, the staff picked three huge peonies that stayed on the night table in her room and then travelled home with her. And they are out in the garden at her family's house.


The poppies are coming out in the backyard. These are flowers associated with Naomi's uncle, Everett, who used to razz me on the garden and its weeds. After he died, one of his daughters said he'd send me a sign. That spring just one poppy bloomed. Six years later, there are about ten blooms. I picked one and put it by the statue of Mary in the church for this morning's service.


This is the turtle shell that holds Naomi's ashes. Under the shell is a soft leather pouch that is lined with felt.

Her aunt made it. The back story is that Naomi bought the shell at a powow and was going to make a bag out of it. She and her aunt had talked back and forth about it but Naomi never got around to doing it. So after Naomi died, her aunt worked night and day to finish it. The blue jay feathers are because the chief said that Naomi was like the blue jay, loud, insistent, in your face (smile), and colourful.

The stole is the ES one I bought last year. The family liked it.

This morning's liturgy was a most amazing service. The church was packed, SRO. At the beginning, Naomi's mother and aunt smudged the church with sage and sweet grass. Then we processed in singing a mourning song. One of Naomi's friends spoke as did her father. Little Gifford kitty was in a snuggle pouch on Naomi's father's chest. The high school choir sang 'For Good,' and Naomi's two older sisters and cousins sang (to a CD) Alison Krauss' song about crossing the River Jordan, 'Away Down the River.'

The most powerful and unscripted part of the service came at the end: after the commendation and after I censed the turtle shell pouch with the burning sage and sweetgrass, a young man started to sing 'Let It Be.' By the end of the first refrain a few people had joined in. Then people started to sing the next verse and more and more joined in for the next refrain. By the time we got to the end of the song, almost all of the 260 people there were singing. The song got stronger and braver, almost a manifesto of we're not going to go quietly, we're going to keep on singing. It was powerful, unifying and, really, uplifting. I had placed the song there in the liturgy as a way of letting things be, of settling things down but the congregation took it otherwise and I am moved by what happened.

A liturgy can be planned out, orchestrated, but once it begins to unfold, it becomes organic, moving at its own pace. Each liturgy has its own personality even though a simple structure outlines it. This morning is one such example where within a specific congregation and moment, a liturgy took on a life of its own. There's no way we could ever replicate what happened and so it will remain special and unforgettable.

Tangentially, I hope that some of the people who showed up this morning realise that the local Episcopal Church is not totally stuffy, can be flexible but still provide a liturgy that is dignified and respectful.

16 June 2008

Just six days ago

Just back from Naomi's folks, working out the order of service for tomorrow. Her father gave me these two photos taken last Tuesday night when I went down to the hospital post vestry meeting.


Finally, you can see little Gifford's face. (He sat on my lap the whole time I was up at the house this morning.)


I don't think she'd mind this up — if she had had the energy, she might well have put it up herself since she loved this little guy (I have intentionally cropped the photo very close, however, since he is a little guy). This was taken Tuesday afternoon. You can see little Gifford settled into her lap. He truly is an angel in disguise.

How long ago all this seems. Thank you one and all for all your prayers. As you can imagine, the family still needs them big time.

Calling hours are this afternoon, 2-4, and this evening 7-9. So do light candles or however you express prayer so as to carry them through this part of the ritual. Thanks.

14 June 2008

High School Graduation


Since I have been given these days off from Executive Council, as hard as it is not to be there, I participated in small town rural Americana by attending the high school graduation — the class of 2008 is a whopping 58 students. I was going to sit with one family but when Naomi's family saw me, they wanted me to sit with them up front in the first row. It was one of those pastoral calls so up to the front row I went.

I dumbly asked why they were up front; how long had they arrived beforehand? And they said that they had asked to have the seats reserved so that Naomi could see her sister graduate. Instead, I sat in her seat. Um.

I think Gifford is going to come to the service on Tuesday. As long as he has a good tight harness on or is in a cage, he is welcome to be there. I anticipate the service will be SRO, all the more for keeping it short and sweet.

So, after graduation, I attended two parties for the two students from the parish. At the second (chez Naomi), I closed the car windows but totally forgot about the roof window. It dumped for about five minutes and I didn't give it a second thought. The interior of the car isn't too wet, demos gracias a Dios.

Now to work on a sermon that I had no plans on preaching because I was supposed to be away tomorrow.

12 June 2008

Requiat Naomi


There is a new star in heaven, one for someone who journeyed there too early in life.

Naomi died at 3.25 this afternoon with all her family surrounding (or on) her bed. Little Gifford kitty was there before, during and after her death.

She was anointed with oil of chrismation as the final stage of the journey begun in baptism (marked and sealed as Christ's own for ever) and, as her family is also Native American, the room in which she died and the people surrounding her were smudged with sweet grass and sage.

Gifford is now serving as the family therapy cat. He has a huge responsibility.

Thank you one and all for all the prayers you have offered on Naomi's and her family's behalf. They are aware of it and will need prayers more than ever because they are beginning a raw, agonising journey of a different sort.

11 June 2008

Naomi's cat


Here's the little guy, still without name, who has been an angel in disguise. He is so, so good as he is passed around from person to person, settling down into their lap, and happily purring. He is so leggy that when he curls up, you can't tell which leg is which. When placed with Naomi, he snuggles right in, knowing that she is his special person. They've discovered if you cover him up with something, he'll quiet down right away. He has been nursing on her, the only person who has had that honour. And while Naomi is heavily medicated, she will scratch him.

I thought he might be super ugly with all his wrinkles but after holding him for a while, his little funny face began to grow on me. He has short whiskers that tickle. And what a motor.

The most important thing is that Naomi is thrilled with him. She really is.

And he has more goodies than any other cat in Central Vermont because the nursing staff had a kitty shower for Naomi.

But do know that things are very serious for her so keep praying.

[update] After going off the heavy-duty antibiotic, Naomi had a slightly better night. She is cognisant enough to have made the decision to come home to her family's house so the transport will take place at 11.00 this morning. Do hold her in prayer during this critical moment.

And they have decided to call the cat, Gifford, as in the hospital where she first met him and where she received such excellent care, namely having him in her room.

Evidently a dying Vermont farmer was allowed to have his favourite cow in the garden right outside the French doors in the patient's room. I tell you, this hospital is super.

[later update, evening] Naomi survived the transport and now is home. So, too, is little Gifford who now is in his forever home, surrounded by people who will love him. Oh, for some he takes some getting used to with his 'baldness' (his fuzz feels like felt). But he really is so cute and Mr Personality. He loves to snuggle... and then start to knead and nurse.

As for Naomi, she is fragile enough that I am postponing or not even going to Executive Council. It's the right thing to do... especially since the family has requested it.

The photo from the web looks very much like Gifford.