We are reminded every once in a while, aren’t we?
And it’s a very painful reminder too, isn’t it?
WE DON’T KNOW E V E R Y T H I N G. . .
In fact, sometimes, we barely know, anything.
I think we are at our most dangerous when We KNOW,
When we know that We KNOW,
When we bet our lives WE KNOW
that we most likely have the ability to A C T like we KNOW NOTHING!
And do you know what we KNOW the very least about?
Death.
Wait, we do know that death occurs when the heart beats no longer, when brain waves are flat, when there’s an absence of pulse, when the lungs don’t inhale/exhale.
D E A T H
But. . .
We are not talking about Death
We are talking about YOUR DEATH!
I was in my second year of Seminary taking a Clinical Pastoral Education Class. Near the end of the Unit, after spending my time at the University of Kentucky Medical Center, my Supervisor asked me what I wanted to do with this training.
Hospice was a fairly new concept, but I was intrigued by death and dying and companioning those who are intimately walking that path.
I told my supervisor that I would like to possibly use my Clinical Education Class to do Hospice Chaplaincy.
I still remember his smile…it was a slow one that gently spread across his face, wrinkling his cheeks and squinting his eyes, showing his teeth.
He held it there in my gaze for just a few seconds, those few seconds that last an eternity in your mind.
He cleared his throat and asked me a question that I’ll never forget–now neither will you:
“WHAT ABOUT YOUR DEATH; HAVE YOU THOUGHT OF YOUR DEATH?”
And then with one simple statement, my life changed,
“YOU CAN’T HELP ANY ONE ELSE DIE, YOU CAN’T WALK THEM DOWN THAT PATH UNLESS YOU’VE DEALT WITH YOUR OWN DEATH.”
Good words then, great words, still. . . .
I’m going to die, so are you.
We know it.
We know we know it.
We’d bet our lives that we know it.
But, but for the life of us, we act like we just don’t know it.
So I practice. I practice dying a little each day. With each visit, each funeral, each ache, each pain, each disappointment, each hurt, each good-bye, ‘see-you-later, with each moment of perfect peace, each night, just before I go to sleep. . .
. . .and begin again each morning I wake up. . .
Until, until I don’t. . . .
