the long way round to Candler..

Many years ago a French Jew moved to a small village in Germany and married Swiss Christian.  They had baby and hired English nanny.  Soon the little French German Gerta was speaking English better then either of her parents.


In 1939 a Cousin in Buenos Aires asked them to come help with his business.  It meant relocating overseas, but a consulate friend pulled strings to make it possible.  Soon the little German family found themselves in big South American city at a confectionery learning to make pies and cakes and pastries.  Many of the families that came in were Italitan so Gerta learned enough Italian to do business.    After a year her mother had had enough of South America and applied to leave.  The consulate friend denied the request saying "You can't leave with a war brewing." Gerta's mother had no idea.  Between working two jobs and raising a child she hadn't had time to read the newspaper.


I asked Gerta what would have happened to their family if they had stayed in Germany, or returned after that first year away.  "We would have died in a concentration camp." She replied matter of factly.


So Father took a second job and worked his way up to doing sales for the finest dressmaking shop in Buenos Aires.  It wasn't long before his connections landed Gerta a part time work in the couture dept.  And in the fashion industry Gerta met a young argentian student.  Luckily she spoke fluent Spanish at that point and they fell in love.  After graduation Paulo took a prestigious job as a scientist in Norway.  Gerta got a job in a furniture store and limped along with her French and English until she learned Norwegian.  After five years Paulo had made a name for himself and was hired by the United Nations.  They moved to New York City and lived there for 30 years.  


I asked Gerta if she missed the world travel.  "I've seen enough." She told me.  "The UN was just our base.  We traveled to Japan and Austria and Italy and Russia.... and other places I can't remember right now."


Twenty years ago Gerta and Paulo were returning home from vacation when the weather got bad.  All the hotels were booked in Knoxville.  A man at a gas station told them to head for Asheville before they got stuck on the road.  They were stuck here for 3 days.  Long enough to fall in love with it.  The next year they came back and soon had purchased a retirement home in Candler.


Which is where I met them.  Candler.  And I enjoyed every minute of the four visits I had with them before Paulo died and Gerta headed out again.  This time to a sister in Florida.


I have a plan for the whole earth, a hand stretched out over all nations.  Isaiah 14:26

vermont

There were thirty minutes before the wedding.  I stood on the porch talking to the bride's father.  He was nervous about the walk down and the "her mother and I's" so I was making small talk.
  
     "So are you from around here?"
    
      "No, we live in Vermont."

Well, I've been to Vermont once.  And can only remember one thing from my trip.  So I threw it out there.

     "My favorite part of Vermont is Waterbury.  The Ben and Jerry ice cream plant."

Sounds impressive right? He laughed.  "I worked there for years.  Senior management."

This man had just become my new best friend.  And lucky for him I'd read Ben and Jerry's Biography and their Value Driven Business book, so we began to talk in earnest.

Mr. Wedding Dad helped Jerry and Ben transition from local ice cream shop in the gas station to major factory and world wide distribution plant.  He was a taste tester for the new Cherry Garcia ice cream and was there when Jerry Garcia flew in to christen it.  He still sees Ben once in a while.  Along with the man that started Stoneyfield and the woman that started the Body Shop.  They were neighbors with local businesses that took off at the same time.

I could have talked all day.  We had flavors to discuss.  And the projected ice cream future. But then the wedding coordinator interrupted us with a pesky request to take our places.

You just never know who you might meet on a porch.

safe

We were watching our kids trick or treat when my sister-in-law chose a snickers bar from her daughter's bag.  "I have to make sure it isn't poisonous!" she explained chewing.  "Nope, you're safe."


 "You're out.  You're safe" were the constant calls ringing in the air from the dodge ball game next to my car in the school yard.


A school bus flashed it's red lights in front of me.  The girl getting out was timid to cross the street until the bus driver yelled "Go.  You are safe."


 And then I sat by a bed today and watched a woman dying.  Her skin was changing color.  Her breathing was labored and erratic.  Her family surrounded her bed.  "She was never without her Bible, " her son told me.  "She and the Lord was close."  "What was her favorite verse?" I asked, thinking I could read it out loud.  "She liked all of them."  he replied.


I leaned close to pray for her.  And then the phrase I had heard all day suddenly seemed so appropriate. Because we are giving her up.  To God the Restorer, the Umpire, the Crossing Guard.   "You are safe Betty.  You are safe.  You are safe.  You are safe."

In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.  Psalm 4:8 NLT

power

I charted by myself today.  Big step.  I've been learning and apprenticing for weeks trying to learn the cumbersome computer system.  Usually my preceptor is close by to question or to help.  But this afternoon I was on my own.


I rocked for a while.  Then I messed up.  Charted a whole patient and my conversation with her daughter.  Saved it.  Locked it.  Then realized that for that patient I had talked to her son.  The daughter belonged to the next patient.   Arrgh.


But I knew what to do.  I called the IT desk, gave my name and number and asked them to "give me the power" to make a correction.  No kidding.  That is the phrase we use.  I've listened to my preceptor do it several times.  But this was the first time I'd asked for the power.


A moment later I was able to unlock, unsave, fix my mistake, resave, relock and move on.  What a little power can do!


On the drive home I shared my mishap with my mom.  She immediately made a connection to the spiritual power we need.  The Power.  The power to unlock, undo, fix, resave and move on in real life.  I remembered something I had read earlier -"that when we are overwhelmed and in need of some kind of escape there is a power greater than ourselves that can restore us to sanity."  Oh yeah,  time to make another kind of call.

God gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Isaiah 40:29

plan B

Our team met this morning to synchronize our care plans for our patients today.  Doctors, Nurses, Social Workers,  and Chaplains.  This quote was read to the group.

Life is all about how you handle plan B.


We realized that being in hospice was never plan A for any of our patients.  But here they are.  How will they handle it?

Someone next to me whispered "Plan B?  I think I'm on Plan Q!"  I had to laugh.  I'm a long ways from plan A myself.

But that little quote has given me lots to think about.  Life is unpredictable and uncontrollable.  Things happen.  To everyone.  How well do I roll with the changes?  How open am I to learning from my mistakes and moving on?  How can I do better at making the best of a situation?

Life is all about how you handle plan B.

lit from within

Our home visit took us winding up a gravel road to a tiny, old house with a beautiful view.  We were greeted at the door by Robert who led us to his beautiful wife sitting quietly in the kitchen.  June has advanced alzheimers.  She smiled blankly at us, but didn't say a word during our visit.


Robert told us about moving to the area 73 years ago.  His mother knew no one and was happy to find another new mom living next door.  For years she would bring her baby, Robert, to the side of the yard and talk over the fence with her neighbor.  And her neighbor brought her little girl, June.  While their moms talked, Robert and June would play with each other through the fence.  As they grew up together the teasing began.  "You and June are going to get married one day!"  "And we did."  Robert said simply. He worked through high school and then bought land across the road from where his parents and June's parents lived.  They built a tiny house that they could afford together and raised four children in it.  All four children live within three miles.  And still gather every Sunday for dinner after church.  For 55 years Robert and June gardened and canned and cooked and entertained together. 


 "Course June can't garden any more.  She doesn't have the strength. We haven't been able to go to church for the last 4 months."  Robert told us matter of factly.  I was struck by the premature loss.  After all these years to go from partner to complete caregiver.  I felt depressed as I looked into the cramped living room overcrowded with memories and a hospital bed.


"How are you holding up?" I asked, bracing for the normal tears, anger, loneliness.  "Me?  No complaints.  We have had  the most blessed life together.  Family, friends, church.  Being able to see the mountains and the trees every day. We are so lucky."


Really?  Poverty, struggle, age, sickness....and you have no complaints? 


That morning I had glanced through an US magazine that had detailed celebrities in trouble.  Gorgeous, rich, glamorous, living in mansions, flying to exotic locations, driving expensive cars, yet addicted, divorcing and in court.  Upgrading their faces and pumping up their images. The contrast between the article and the visit stunned me.


100 years ago German composer Richard Wagner wrote "Joy is not in things; it is in us." 


Today that hit me again, in a new way, that joy is a fire lit from within.   An old house and a deadly disease can't snuff it out.  And wealth and fame will never substitute.


Robert's warm contentment changed my pity to admiration and awe. What a rich, rich man.


I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.  John 15:11