It is so common, yet so foreign.  It is an essential part of our human existence, yet it is so un-human.

Death….

A week ago, my 93 year old Nana fell and broke her hip.  She has always been a tough cookie, resilient like nobody’s business.  At first she was doing well; up and walking the day after her operation.  But I found out today that she is rapidly declining and may not have long to live.

In addition to her hip fracture and old age, she also has Alzheimer’s disease.  She has long outlived the expected time for people diagnosed with this form of dementia, yet even she is not immune to its ravaging effects. With all this change and upset to routine, she is confused.  She is combative, she is lost, she is resistant.  She hasn’t been eating or drinking and has ceased to participate in therapy.  Her lungs are beginning to show signs of pneumonia. The palliative care doctor explained that she probably has a few weeks to live at most.

I know that death exists. I know that it is inevitable.  I just don’t know how to respond to it.

I have been spared experiencing any deaths in my rememberable childhood.  My other grandparents passed away when I was very young, and we were distant from them, both geographically and emotionally.  My relationship with my Nana has been equally distant.  She wasn’t the lovey, dovey type of grandma who tells stories and makes you cookies.  And so I don’t feel the same sort of closeness that others might know with their grandparents.

However, in her old age, and my young adulthood, I have come to care for her in a different compassionate sort of way. Like I might one of my dear patients.  I helped her whenever I was home. I would visit her, show her pictures, reminder her of who I am and how her family loves and cares for her, ease her fears, calm her anger, and listen to her incoherent tales.  I love my Nana. I don’t doubt that.  But I just doubt my ability to understand death and the fact that it is potentially so imminent for her.

I don’t wish for her to die, but I don’t wish for her to be sad and in pain.

I don’t know how this will make me feel.  I don’t know if the way I feel will be right.

How do I support my family through this?

I feel fortunate that I have been spared experiencing death up until this point.  Yet at the same time I feel so afraid and confused as I stare into this void.

A seemingly strange and completely random thought.  Yet it stumped me.  I have yet to find an answer.  So I am hoping that writing about this conundrum will help me come to some sort of conclusion.

As I mulled over this question, I thought about my husband and his job as a pastor.  He is a worship leader and also leads the college/career and children’s ministries at our church.  I then realized that this makes me a pastor’s wife.  (Eugene has been a pastor for almost our entire relationship, yet I somehow never came to the realization that once we were married I would be a pastor’s wife.  I think this reality doesn’t get through to me as I see myself as an entirely unfit human being for this role.) I then began to think of other pastors’ wives that I knew  and acknowledged that when THEY do the dishes and clean the house and make the food and raise the children, then are doing ministry by proxy because they are supporting and enabling their husbands to preach and spread the gospel.  So their efforts at home are a secondary, yet direct form of ministry.

Somehow though, I don’t see my doing housework as ministry.  Maybe it’s because I fail to identify myself as a  pastor’s wife.  Maybe this is because Eugene is still in school and only doing part time ministry.  Maybe this is because I just feel completely inadequate for the admirable, demanding, full-time role of being a pastor’s wife.

Maybe it’s because we don’t have children, and so housework still just seems selfish.  I can’t tell anyone “I’m doing this for you so that you can play and have a fun childhood and learn and grow to be a good person!!”.  I’m just doing it for us.

I know that the dishes must be cleaned.  I know that the laundry must be folded.  I know that the floors must be vacuumed and the beds made.  And I also have a pretty good feeling that this stuff is good and that God is happy when we do it.  It’s about good stewardship.

I just don’t see the correlation.

Not yet anyway.

So, can monotony be ministry?

Mankind curved in on itself

Simple, but so precisely true.

It was inspiring, beautiful, and hit a spot deep within my heart.  Yet, I feel as though despite how much I look for how to live fully and meaningfully, I can’t seem to find it here.

Today, I simply feel as though my soul is dying.

Physically I feel weak, yet my limbs move on robotically.  Emotionally, I am empty, yet so full of concern.  Mentally, my thoughts incessantly swirl yet I find no peace.  And spiritually I am dry.  As dry and dead as the dust and concrete wasteland that I live in.

How do so many people live here?  Why do so many people live here?  There is such a glaring lack of good and true beauty here that I can hardly imagine living through another day of it.

I feel that my soul is crying out against this ugliness.  I need beauty in my life.  I need life.  Everything is dead and empty here.  Occasionally there is a glimpse of  hope in the smile of a stranger, or the sun trickling through a scare tree or two.  But for the most part, I feel as though this place is barren, blank and soulless.

I need clean air.  The fresh, lively scent of dark fertile earth, the brush of leaves, bark and flowers, the rush of an ice cold stream.  I need signs of life!  Both natural and human.

I need something to tell me that despite how short and sad and difficult this passing life can be, that it is all worth it.  The times of joy, beauty, goodness and truth are worth it.

This is beginning to sound like a hippy, earthy ecological rant and it’s not.  It’s just a cry from my soul longing for what’s real.  I want peace, life, beauty, love, goodness and truth.  But despite what I may think, I’m not going to find those in a weekend in the mountains.

My soul is crying out for what is real.  It’s longing for something deeper than this shadowy, tainted reality that I know.

I yearn for heaven.

For all the pain, sorrow, and evil to cease.

But not in this life.  This life is full of brokenness.  So I will cling to the moments of goodness, know that there is more to come, and find a way to thrive.

There’s nothing like trying on underwear to make you feel just great about yourself!!

The lyrics were: “Nothing ever doesn’t change, but nothing changes much”, and as I contemplated them, I realized how precisely they express the thoughts and feelings within me.

The two complementary/contradictory statements in the phrase reflect my current grief: Change is here and change is hard  AND despite all the trouble, things never really improve that much.

Change is always happening, and it is typically with reluctance and pain that we endure it. Change is an inevitable, unstoppable, juggernaut that is both exhilarating and terrifying.  In my mind, I know that change is good; it is all in God’s hands and so I can trust that whatever change occurs must be for our ultimate good.  However, it is just plain annoying.  Change is exhausting to me.  And as much as I am excited about the path that my life is taking, I feel as though I simply don’t have the energy to keep up with it.

The other sentiment is that “nothing changes much”.  Despite the process, the transitions, the growth, the trouble, pretty much life will always be the same.  Babies are born, and people die.  There are happy moments, yet bad things always happen. The sun rises and then it sets. There is never enough time in the day, and entropy always wins.  My life is consumed with my graduate program, yet in the end of it all I’m really no different. I’m still just a girl with a limited time to live.  Each day is different.  Each day is the same.

I feel as though I am walking the thin line between excitement and cynicism, and I fear that soon I may tire and fall to one side.  Nothing is untouched by change, but its impact scarcely translates.

This is becoming metaphysical mush, so I should sleep now.  Only to get up again….

I have this nuisance, no…that sounds too trivial.  It is a bother, yet it is serious.

I have a companion that I do not wish to have.  Yet I cannot seem to rid myself of it.

It follows me around, some days more than others.

There was a time when this companion was all consuming.  It took up every moment of my day, dictated my schedule, defined my identity, and even controlled my thoughts. It’s powerful force compelled me to be motionless, joyless, and hopeless.  But Someone had pity on me, and introduced me to some new friends.  Their names were Moderation, Balance, Hope, Self-Esteem, Grace, Rest, Assertiveness, and Peace.  As I got to know them, my old companion seemed to bother me less. Its presence diminished and I was liberated from its constant, suffocating existence.

Although I have grown,this companion is still alive and well.  Despite the fact that I do my best to avoid spending time with it, occasionally it will show up in my life uninvited.  Typically, I cannot predict when it will come: often without warning in the midst of me enjoying my other Friends.  Yet other times, I can almost guarantee it will make an appearance at a certain time.

I’ve learned that this companion is much like a shadow.  It is always with me regardless of what I do.  At some points, during the noonday of my life, it is beneath my feet and I joyfully forget about its existence.  But at other times…during the early mornings and evenings of my life.  When things are about to begin, or others are coming to an end –  stress, change, transition –  this shadow lengthens, grows, and stretches far beyond what I can see.

I am in another morning of my life.  It is a bright and beautiful morning, and the day has so much hope and excitement to offer.  Yet my shadow is long and ominous in the early light, and at times like this it is hard to remember that eventually it will shrink.

I have come to accept that throughout the days of my life, this companion may always be with me. But I will strive to remember that even the dark, lonely depth of the long shadows will pass.  I will cope with the companion, but I will not be controlled by it. I will acknowledge it, but I will not acquiesce.

For now, I sit in the shadow and hope the sun will rise high…

I was lying in my house as a depressed blob for the majority of today.  I was paralyzed by insecurity, worry, fear, self doubt, and simply a lack of motivation to do anything.

I was feeling down, and although that is a simple statement, and an easily recognizable emotion I was baffled by my situation, unable to arrive at any conclusion as to why I felt that way or what I should do about it.  Hence my paralyzed, blobbish state.

I come from a past of suppressing my emotions.  Throughout my teen years, I felt as though expressing my emotions, or allowing myself to truly feel them was weak, messy and immature.  So I stuffed them in.  Kept them in for years, until last summer they came exploding out into a dark pool of depression.

Since that episode, I have learned much about healthy expression and balance.  Yet at times I am still confused about what to do.

Do I ignore what I feel, soldier on, and possibly explode later on?  Or do I allow emotions to wash over me, and potentially collapse from succumbing to unnecessary darkness?

I think there is a balance, and I am striving to capture it.

I feel that God gave us our hearts and our minds to balance each other out.  Our hearts feel deeply, and the power of emotions is incredible because it motivates us to do things that our minds alone would not agree to.  However, without the guiding logic and wisdom of a mind, emotions would lead us to passionate, reckless destruction.

Today, I was allowing my emotions to control me.  Yes, I felt sad, and I still do, but an emotion is merely a signal or a motivator for something to change.  In and of itself, an emotion is not a problem, nor is it a solution.

So here, I am choosing for my mind to get back into gear and whip my heart into shape.  Yes, Victoria, you may feel as though what you’re going through is overwhelming. You may feel as though you are not good enough and never will be.  But stop and recognize what you have, and do not waste another minute feeling sorry for yourself when you know that this too will pass.   Be thankful that you have a sofa to be a blob on!  Then get up and CLEAN IT!  This day is too precious for you to whine it away.  Acknowledge your feelings, take them for what they are, then move on.

Thank you, Mind.  I needed that  ^_^

Not only am I returning back to life in the sense that I am returning to the reality of school and work and living independently, I am also hoping to come back to life in the spiritual sense.

It has been a while since I’ve experienced the fulfilling and motivating closeness with God that I once knew, and I have only myself to blame.  I am harming myself by not devoting the time to maintain and grow my relationship with Christ, and I am failing in my calling to exemplify His love to others through my life.

And so, as this week ends, I hope to also end my  old, apathetic ways and begin the new week with a rejuvenated soul and positive outlook.

As a negative person by default, I expect this to be a challenge and would greatly appreciate your prayers in this endeavor!

I want to encourage you as well, to make the remainder of this summer meaningful, productive, and a blessing to you and others.

Let us not let another day go by living it half-heartedly.