Category: death’s lessons

Life’s Teachers in Disguise

by Linda Russell, posted in A Holy Whack, AHA moments, death's lessons

I know I may seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on the subject of death. But, really, when something happens that brings death to the forefront of my thoughts, the deeper revelation is always about life, the meaning of the fullness of life, the blessings of life, and its fleeting reality. 

The most basic question I return to over and over again? Am I living my life like I KNOW all of that? The answer is usually, “Not so much,” – and so, I begin again until I forget again, and then I am reminded…again! 

I must be forgetting too often because I recently had two powerful reminders from past experiences. Cherie Carter-Scott, in her amazing book, “If Life is a Game, These are the Rules,” offers her ten rules for being human. Rule #4 applies here: “Lessons will be repeated until learned.” I guess I’m a slow learner. So, let me try again.

A few years ago, Tom & I were driving home. On the highway, we swerved to miss hitting a dog that someone else had hit. It was still alive, so we went back. We waved traffic away from the dog so we could pull it off the road. Tom called the police, and we sat on the side of the road for thirty minutes while the dog lay dying. With the exception of its labored breathing, it never moved. The police never came, and the dog finally died.

seattle-humane-society

It was a pit bull with no collar. As I sat there, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a stray, if it was wild, if it was rabid. But none of that mattered. When once I would have been afraid of this dog, I was now stroking its head.

And my reminder about life? I was thinking about all the people who die this way. Every human being has been created in the image of God. All are loved by God. Yet, many die in obscurity, alone and broken.

This brings me to the second incident I recalled when a dear friend’s father died. Her parents had been divorced for years, and all of her siblings disowned him. They could never forgive him for the pain he caused them and their mother. But she stayed in relationship with him all those years. My own attitude towards him was cold and indifferent.

When he died, I went to the funeral service. There were a lot of people there, which surprised me. Then, another surprise! The service was on a Wednesday. People could leave work for a few minutes to pay their respects to the family, but surely they would return to work or their busy lives. When everyone was invited to attend the luncheon, most of them went. It was crazy. I went for a few minutes but had to leave. Okay, I really didn’t have to leave, but I did. My friend and I agreed to meet the next morning to go for a walk.

This is where God entered my cold, pathetic heart. When I met with her, she began to relate to me what had happened after I left. She had noticed that there were several people there her family didn’t know. As everyone was eating lunch, she asked if anyone wanted to share a story about her father.

Some began to stand up and talk about him. One was a waitress in one of his favorite restaurants. She said he was so nice and would listen to her talk about things that she struggled with in her life. Several other people from other places he frequented said the same thing.

So there I was…I stopped dead in my tracks and began to sob, “Oh my gosh. I missed a blessing! I refused to give your father the compassion and care he deserved, and I missed the blessing of the life he tried to live.”

Yes, he made mistakes, and yes, he hurt his family. But, over those years of separation from them, he became a different person, a better person, but for strangers, not his daughters. How sad and how common that is. By pushing him away and shutting him out of their lives, none of them ever healed.

In my long, often selfish lifetime, I have learned that there is really only one thing that’s important—love. Not love of things; love of God, ourselves, and others.

Thinking about those two incidents ushered God back into my thoughts about life and death:

  • Death does not care if we have left business unfinished, relationships broken, or children to be raised. It doesn’t matter if we are not ready or sit on promises to change.
  • It will take the weak with the strong, the humble with the proud, the saint with the jerk.
  • Death doesn’t respect wedding plans, vacation plans, or unmet deadlines.
  • It does not operate by a timetable we set, and is no respecter of age.
  • It does not discriminate between the most loved and most hated.
  • It may not wait for the most brilliant to cure cancer, bring peace to a troubled nation, or receive a Nobel Prize.
  • Denying that death is a part of life is like believing we still look like our high school picture.
  • We can’t rely on death to come when we are ready. We can rely on it to teach those of us who are willing how to truly live.
  • It can and should be a time of reflection. Have I lived well, loved well, forgiven — honestly – and sought forgiveness humbly?
  • Good or bad, I have touched the lives of family and friends, the mailman, and the grumpy receptionist at the doctor’s office. Have I left love and joy in the hearts of those I will leave behind?
  • I may have amassed wealth and recognition and may leave a fortune to my loved ones. All things they can pack away, gamble away, or throw away. But, at the end of the day...what have I left in their hearts?

Well, I’m not dead yet, so I can get back on track and try to live my life fully, love fully, and allow the ebb and flow of life and certainty of death to teach me what truly matters if I am a willing student.

And now, I will leave you with this awesome quote by Grace Hansen: “Don’t be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.” 

Death – Our Uninvited Teacher

Featured by Linda Russell, posted in AHA moments, Boldness in adversity, Consider trials pure joy!, death's lessons, Good Friday

I wrote the following Blog post on 4/2/2021 (Good Friday), having no idea that my husband would pass away just fifteen days later. The words are now more poignant than ever. I have added my thoughts since his passing at the end.

(Pixabay image)

Every death diminishes me

Every Good Friday, we are called to remember the brutal beating and crucifixion of Jesus. He walked in the midst of those deemed lesser and unimportant. They experienced his love and compassion for them. But he walked a lonely road to his death. Sure, a few dared to walk with him (ahem…the women!). But many, his disciples in particular, scattered for their own safety, feeling powerless to stop it from happening.

Also, we are reliving the horrific facts of George Floyd’s death during Derek Chauvin’s trial. Hearing the witnesses’ testimony as they broke down and grieved over watching Floyd die has been excruciating for many. Most witnesses were strangers to him, yet they all spoke of feeling helpless and guilty that they didn’t try to help him. Even though they also knew they were powerless to do so.

Jesus was innocent of any crime. George Floyd was not. But the fact remains that neither deserved to die so violently at the hands of others.

So, I sit and contemplate how their deaths have impacted me. As a professed Christian, I am called to emulate Jesus’ radical love in every aspect of my life. I mostly fail, but I keep trying and longing to be more like him and less like me.

And George Floyd? I didn’t know him and likely never would have, nor would most of us, if not for witnessing his horrific death on the daily news.

In those beautiful and poignant words of John Donne, “No man is an island; entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind.”

That is a fact of God’s making. We are all interconnected – like it or not. The death of another, be it a loved one or a stranger, should call us to stop and take inventory of our own lives. Every funeral I attend does that for me and often shines a light on my failings to be Christ-like to others. Thankfully, every day is a new day – a day to begin again.

Wake up!

So, here’s what I will contemplate and pray about and hopefully act on daily. It doesn’t have to be Jesus who calls us to be better, kinder, softer, and to live and love more fully. It can also be the death of a stranger we have never met that wakes us from sleepwalking through life.

Facing the realization that we will also die (sorry if that’s news to you) – maybe sooner than later (sorry again) – should cause us to ask ourselves if our houses are in order and, more importantly, what we are leaving behind because…

Death doesn’t care

Death does not care if we have left business unfinished, relationships broken, or children to be raised. It doesn’t matter if we are not ready or sit on promises to change. It will take the weak with the strong, the humble with the proud, the saint with the jerk.

Death doesn’t respect wedding plans, vacation plans, or unmet deadlines. It does not operate by a timetable we set and is no respecter of age. It does not discriminate between the most loved or most hated. It may not wait for the most brilliant to cure cancer, bring peace to a troubled world, or receive a Nobel Prize.

Denying that death is a part of life doesn’t change its reality. We can’t rely on death to come when we are ready. But we can depend on it to teach those of us who are willing how to truly live.

Death can and should be a time of reflection.

Have I lived well, loved well, forgiven — honestly – and sought forgiveness humbly?

For good or bad, I have touched the lives of family and friends, the mailman, and the grumpy receptionist at the doctor’s office. I may have amassed wealth and recognition and left a fortune to my loved ones. All things they can pack away, gamble away, or throw away. But, at the end of the day…what have I left in their hearts?

So now?

As I contemplate the reality that my life has changed drastically, my beliefs have not.

The suddenness of my husband’s death has not made me fearful or anxious, as I know God’s love and care for me have always been steady and unchanging, even when I have so often failed to appreciate it. But, at the same time, it drives home the fact that my own life is not guaranteed beyond this moment. So, what does that mean?

My life is filled with many moments of disbelief that my husband is actually gone. I’m sure that will continue for some time. But, in the midst of that, as I daily make decisions about how I am to “live and move and have my being” (Acts 17:28) – I am discovering my better self, my true self, not the self on display when others are watching.

I am asking critical questions that will surely determine my life’s direction, purpose, and focus for whatever time I have left here. How will/should I live my life moving forward? What do I want my loved ones to remember when I’m gone?

God longs for us to use the gifts he has given us to leave the world better than we found it. How will I do that? How will I serve in this time of such need and suffering? Every moment of every day allows us to grow in love and compassion for all those we encounter on this journey.

There truly are gifts in the midst of our goodbyes. What do I want mine to be? What do you want yours to be?

Welcome to My Groundhog Day

by Linda Russell, posted in A Holy Whack, AHA moments, Boasting, death's lessons, Groundhog Day, Humility
(Groundhog Day movie)

I recently celebrated my seventy-fourth birthday. I think seventy-four years is a loooooong time to be doing the same dumb things over and over. I also think God agrees! That’s surely why he’s intent on repeating himself until I – hopefully (hope springs eternal) – change.

Let me say that God has done some pretty incredible work in my life! And there have been significant changes over the years. But there is one thing, and unfortunately, it is the main thing I have struggled to submit to: humility. Oh sure, I can lay claim to superficial humility. You know, that surface stuff that implodes the first time some jerk gets on my bad side!

And so, like our poor friend Phil, I go to bed every night with good intentions and wake up the next morning finding myself stuck in the same place.

I recall that moment in the movie when Phil said to Rita, “I have been stabbed, shot, poisoned, frozen, hung, electrocuted, and burned, and every morning I wake up without a scratch on me”? That would make a great metaphor for my life, except for the “without a scratch” part.

My Groundhog Day consists of continual lessons in humility – or lack there of. Ready? Buckle up!

I was once a concept of God’s wild and magnificent imagination. I can envision all the angels in heaven dancing for joy at the sight of every single creature God brings to life. Then, without warning, I was plopped into a broken world, and life immediately began re-creating me into the person God no longer recognized. And the angels fell silent.

Through life, I too (metaphorically), “have been stabbed, shot, poisoned, frozen, hung, electrocuted, and burned”. First, by a mother God entrusted with my care who was mean and abusive. Later, by my own attempts to simply survive in my brokenness.

My focus was not on living with joy, and the fullness of life promised to me. My focus became a matter of enduring the next worst thing, like Phil waking up every day in a world that never changed. Everything this Original Creation was supposed to be, became unrecognizable.

Like Phil, I tried to end my pain too. I didn’t have a groundhog strapped to my steering wheel, and it wasn’t on railroad tracks. Instead, it was me drunk in my little MG on the highway, praying that I would crash and die. Phil’s reaction when his attempt to kill himself failed was, “Ah, nuts.” Mine was the same. I think my exact words were, “Great! I can’t even do this right!” I remember getting out of bed the next morning and going off to work: same empty life, different day.

Over the years, since that not-so-fatal day, much has happened. God has continued to work in my life, considering my incessant resistance to the death of my own will. We have been through so much together! When I think about what he has managed to accomplish in this continual wrestling match, it has been nothing short of a miracle!

After Phil described his torture, he exclaimed that there was “not a scratch on me”. I couldn’t say that, but I did think that “not a scratch on me” meant that on the outside no one ever noticed what a mess my life was. Considering that has made me, and God, very sad.

But luckily, God isn’t a quitter and doesn’t give up on us. As long as that is true, I’m always hopeful for a new beginning. I know God is ever so gently loosening my white-knuckled grip on my stubborn self-will and shining an uncomfortable light on my lack of humility.

Of course, as is God’s mysterious way, and because I have been in total denial of my lack of humility, I am confronted almost daily with examples of “Who do you think you’re kidding, Linda?”

I had to sit with that and realize the truth of my whining and whaling and lashing out at anyone who has pushed my ever so fragile buttons. It came from many years of always being on the defensive. And, if I’m listening, I hear God say, “Humility…Linda. Let’s give it another try.”

Here’s what God has been showing me in the process of mediation, prayer, and experiences that provide the litmus test of how I’m doing. I think it’s some pretty awesome stuff.

What I believe has set this entire process in motion began years ago with my hospice training and work with dying patients. You get a much different perspective on life when you sit with the dying.

When I began my work with Hospice, I made it a practice to tell people I was a “volunteer chaplain” – I had to get it in, and technically it was true enough because of my past schooling and training. But, I was ever so profoundly admonished by God. He rolled his eyes and repeatedly shook his head at my need to pump up my false self.

Then, the more I sat with dying patients, the more I realized how little it mattered. No one ever said, “Thank you for being a chaplain.” They said, “Thank you for coming.” That’s all. They thanked me for my presence, not any vast wisdom or knowledge I thought I possessed and they needed to hear.

They were dying; they couldn’t have cared less about my degrees or accomplishments. I witnessed what was really important to those with so little time to fool with ego, pride, and self-centeredness.

This should be a powerful lesson for anyone who thinks that God does not want to be deeply involved in our lives. It has happened too often for me to believe otherwise. Now, if I can just get out of his way, perhaps humility is not impossible – even for me.

I hope and pray that I will continually strive to surrender to God’s Love and be the empty vessel he desires.

We are all called to love, to have faith and trust and hope, to be filled with joy and peace, and humility, which underlies it all. None of this is remotely possible if it is not born of a heart filled with awe and wonder at God’s magnificence, power, and glory. None of it!

Consider Matthew 3:13-17, “Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, yet you are coming to me?”

There is a whole bunch of humility going on there! John the Baptist never felt worthy “to tie Jesus’ sandals (Mark 1:7)”. How often are we willing to decrease so Jesus can increase?And think of Jesus himself allowing John to baptize him. He wasn’t a sinner and didn’t need to be baptized. Yet he humbled himself before everyone to lead the way to his Father.

Reading that Scripture was like a one-two punch. No, God doesn’t punch, but I’m telling you, he flicks! I have been flicked often enough to know. And it hurts. Because he’s not flicking my head, he’s flicking my heart!

When we go our own way, we obey the parts of God’s command that are easy and discard the parts that don’t appeal to us: Love your neighbor – check, love your enemy – scratch – is it any wonder God hates that? Are we putting forth an image of ourselves – more importantly – an image of God that others can use to justify their own sinfulness?

I want to say that I have finally conquered this one, but I know better, and I’m pretty sure there will be another lesson tomorrow…

                                   and the day after that…

                                                                          and the day after that!

It’s funny; the Scripture verses here are not new to me. “HOLY COW, I never knew God felt so strongly about THAT!” – Liar! It has just been an inconvenient truth, demanding something I have not been willing to submit to. I pray that is all changing. The power of humility lies within each one of us. We have no excuse to believe or act otherwise.

Waiting for Tomorrow Are Ya’?

by Linda Russell, posted in AHA moments, death's lessons, life is short, Life's Choices, Oh death where is your sting?

(Originally posted 8/08/2012)

https://tenor.com/view/the-holiday-kate-winslet-iris-hate-my-horrible-life-horrible-gif-4754640

Some day you’re going to apologize to your neighbor (who hates you, by the way, for other reasons) for backing over his cat and blaming it on the mail carrier.

Some day your humdrum existence will magically transform into the fairy tale life you have always dreamed of.

Some day you will hit the lottery and buy your neighbor a new cat. Okay, you won’t do that because you’ll move to a deserted island where you won’t have any neighbors.

If you believe one morning you’ll wake up and your butt will have fallen off as you slept – that’s right – you’re delusional. (You might want to lay off the chocolate darlin’)

Wanna know where I’m at as I write this and why my thoughts went where they did? I am sitting with a dying hospice patient. I’ll call him Fred. I can’t show you a picture of him for obvious reasons, but I can show you a picture of the wall I’m staring at in his room. It’s 2:30 am, and I have been staring at this wall for two hours.

I don’t know if Fred has any family, but no one visits him. He was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease when I first met him, so we were never able to communicate. I have no idea what he did for a living, but for now, he is my teacher, like all the patients I see.

I know what you’re thinking. How could someone who has lost the ability to respond to their environment or converse with anyone teach you anything? How could they impart words of wisdom like Mahatma Gandhi, shine a light on injustice like Martin Luther King, or inspire Jesus’ call to “serve the least of these” like Mother Theresa? Well, they can’t….

They can sometimes do more – at least for me – at this moment.

When I meet a new patient, I first look at the pictures in their room. Some, like my dear mother-in-law, have their walls and shelves cluttered with family pictures. They make for great conversation. But here’s my buddy Fred with four blank walls.

What am I supposed to do with that? I have discovered that that is the wrong question. The real question is – what is God wanting to teach me here?

It is no coincidence that at this very time, I am reading a most profound book by Kathleen Dowling Singh, “The Grace in Dying”.

So, what am I finally learning at this late stage in my life? What I have grown to believe from Gandhi, King, and Mother Theresa, has been personified by Singh and Fred.

Singh’s book moves from words on a page to experience that reaches the depth of my heart as I sit here with a dying man. I have grown to appreciate that this is Holy Ground and that God is truly present here.

I sense that God is trying to tell me during these times to review my own life. He calls out to anyone with ears to hear, “You’re gonna die too. Maybe even today. So, get your act together!”

Because I have a warped brain (DUH! Surely you know that by now), I had to laugh because that reminder sent me to this cartoon. It’s a Hallmark card.

At this stage in life, considering priorities is surely in order, don’t you think? Can we stop obsessing over things that don’t…actually, never did...matter? Stop dwelling on old hurts, lost opportunities, and someone else’s expectations? Stop striving for more and more of what someone else will trash before you’re cold in your grave? Stop trying to control everything? Stop shadowboxing? Donate those skinny jeans that will likely NEVER fit you again (geeezzzzz)?

Singh tells us, “When we are deeply aware of our own impermanence, every fleeting moment is recognized as precious. Our desire to be present in each moment amplifies. Meditating on death instantly calls us to question on the deepest of levels. What am I doing? What do I want? What does this all mean?

Contemplating our own mortality…our precariously impermanent existence can call us to complete and thorough accountability. It can call us to instant reordering, a rearranging of our priorities and our intentions. It blocks off all of our habitual detours into denial.”

The bare walls in Fred’s room don’t tell me anything about Fred, but they signify two realities for me: (1) To ask honestly if my life has been empty and void of significance. (2) God always offers us a clean slate – to begin again if I have failed to fulfill my purpose.

Thank you, Fred. In your dying, you are teaching me how to truly live while there is still breath in me.

Now, go in peace…I pray…into the hands of our loving and merciful God.