Church Banners for Ordinary Times

We Christians are in the midst of a long liturgical season called "Ordinary Time".  It has an associated color: green.  All colors and their associated seasons can be found at the ELCA link.

And from the Lutheran Missouri Synod:

Green is the appointed color for all but a few of the Sundays during these seasons. Consequently, green may be used an average of six to eight months of any given liturgical year!...Variety and change in shades of this color would go a long way in keeping the season fresh and "green." Changing the paraments every six weeks would complement the Sundays following Pentecost and their emphasis on personal faith that is living and growing.

Our church is sprucing up its sanctuary and adding color.  We are displaying rectangles and squares in varying large sizes, along with other appropriate paraments to bring a focal point to one large wall area.

Hopefully, these two pictures on 12 mm silk will be used as decoration to cover one or two of the nine foam boards.  Once all are hung, I will update this post and show the completed wall decorations.

Picture one: 25" x 36" unframed:

Picture 2: 24" x 24"

PPF submission

More to come!

Sparrows and Lilies of the Field

...joining in with Floss at her blog to write about the The Thrill of What You Already Have...

This will be an introspective post, so sit down with your coffee as you are invited to take more than a minute to read about a virtual friend and what she has written here about needing a summer job to help the dormouse and her husband get through the summer on a more even note.

After reading what the dormouse wrote, it stirred me into thinking about how God takes care of us in ways we can't even imagine.  This is what she says in part of her post and in quoting scripture:

I have spent a couple of nights lying awake worrying, ... I need to bring my worrying mind to rest and try to trust God... 

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?"

source

The "thrill of what I already have" is a powerful memory of my mother in the late 1960's.

To set the scene: she and I lived in a small, conservative Texas town.  She was divorced, coming out of an almost catatonic 18 month depression (remember, we did not have psychiatric drugs back then save for electroshock therapy).  We had just moved out of her parents' home where we had lived for two years, completely dependent on them. We had very little money, living in a small and very old rental house made of stone.

The memory which I want to recall as most impressive, however, is that of mother saying many times that if God could care enough to provide food for the sparrows and to clothe the lilies of the field in glory, that He would certainly take care of us.   And He did.  She died in 2000, and He continued to take care of her throughout her life, as she had always trusted.

source

Certainly not all of what gives us a thrill is on the physical plane, as this particular memory still gives me pause.  I think of mother speaking of the well being of the sparrows and the beauty of the lilies when worry begins it insidious way of worming into my soul, and I am always comforted.

Easter

The tomb is empty.  

Easter blessings to you readers.

Palm Sunday

The Easter Season begins today.

Palm Sunday and what it means can best be found from the Bible.

The MennoniteGirls say it all here on their website today.  Not only can the Mennonite Girls cook, they also know how to live life to its fullest!

Atonement: A Pause in Lent

Following up on the Theme for Bloggers put out by Floss at Troc Broc and Recup', here is an article that I find intriguing regarding Christ and the cross, which is what Lent is all about.  The article starts out with the question "what is atonement"?

Excerpts come from a published piece in RedlandsDailyFacts by Gregory Elder, a professor of history and humanities at Moreno Valley College (CA) and a Roman Catholic priest.

The term in English, "atonement," means what it sounds like, making things to be "at one," meaning humanity being made one with God. It is used many times in the Hebrew Scriptures and is found in words meaning roughly "reconciliation." 

In the Hebrew writings, it is made clear on a number of occasions that sin separates people from friendship with God, and the ultimate penalty for human sin is death, as God promised Adam in Eden. (Genesis 3:3)  But God is also merciful and allows people time to repent their sins; death is not instantaneous. In the Mosaic covenant, this separation from God caused by sin was remedied by animal sacrifice.

Father Elder talks about three different theories of atonement: the "ransom theory", the "satisfaction" view and the "demonstration" theory.  Regarding the ransom theory, I found this quite interesting, spurring me on to purchase the old C.S. Lewis classic on my Kindle for a re-read: 

The ransom theory was very popular in antiquity, and is often expressed by my patron saint, St. Gregory of Nyssa. It is a theme of the atonement used by C.S. Lewis in his book which was recently made into a film, "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe."

This ransom theory, that Christ paid the ultimate sacrifice for the sins of mankind by giving his life for those who accept his divinity, and canceling out moral debts of humans, is the one I was taught from the cradle.

But as Father Elder postulates, no matter the theory behind atonement, all give pause.  And all views have been excellent fodder for homiletic points for Christ's work on the cross regarding His forgiveness of sin.

 As  As Floss says in relating to the horrific killings in her own backyard in Toulouse last week  

One thing I do know is that people who spend more time forgiving the little things are better practiced at forgiving the big things. 

 To be at one, to be forgiven, and to forgive, to be at peace...atonement.

Ashes: Lenten Song and an Offering

Special thanks to "bunnits" over at Art In The Wind, who not only told me about this song, but also tracked down the lyrics and sent them via email. The song is "Ashes" by Pat Conry.

1. We rise again from ashes, from the good we’ve failed to do.

 We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew.

 If all our world is ashes, then must our lives be true,

 an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

 2. We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts,

 the gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt.

 Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view,

 an offering of ashes, an offering to you. 

 3. Then rise again from ashes, let healing come to pain,

 though spring has turned to winter, and sunshine turned to rain.

 The rain we’ll use for growing, and create the world anew

 from an offering of ashes, an offering to you. 

 4. Thanks be to the Father, who made us like himself.

 Thanks be to his Son, who saved us by his death.

 Thanks be to the Spirit who creates the world anew

 from an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

While this plays, I am reflecting on that which may be "given up" for Lent.  If the abstinence of the substance or activity is given up, it is called sacrifice.

And if the mere act of not succumbing to a temptation is given up (which is likely not in our best interests anyway), why is it then termed "sacrifice"?

It seems that sacrifice has many depths...pausing to consider.

Please visit Floss at the blog where she has sponsored a theme of writing during Lent.  Her left sidebar links to others who are writing on the theme of "A Pause in Lent".  Reading others' thoughts does give pause. Reread the second verse of Ashes; my favorite.

A Pause in Lent

For Christians, the Lenten season is a time for reflection.  The forty days of Lent generally represent the forty days that Jesus spent in the desert in prayer and spiritual anticipation of his Passion, Death and Resurrection.

However, the Apron Senorita says...

The 40 days of Lent, which precedes Easter is based on two Biblical accounts: the 40 years of wilderness wandering by the Israelites and our Lord's 40 days in the wilderness at which point He was tempted by Satan.  Each year the Church observes Lent where we, like Israel and our Lord, are tested. We participate in abstinence, times of fasting, confession and acts of mercy to strengthen our faith and devotional disciplines. The goal of every Christian is to leave Lent a stronger and more vital person of faith than when we entered.

 Words and images, thoughts and reflections going along with the Lenten season include the Cardinal Virtues (and theological virtues) of:

Valour
Generosity
Liberality
Diligence
Patience
Kindness
Humility

...as suggested in Floss's blog.  She is inspiring others to write on this theme of A Pause in Lent during the coming weeks.  Please check her out; she has quite a following, writing from France.

For a post on a Lenten theme the day after Ash Wednesday, I refer to Philip Yancy's book What's So Amazing About Grace? when he writes about Bill Moyer's documentary film on the hymn "Amazing Grace". Moyers was sitting with Jessye Norman in her dressing room prior to a concert in London in Wembley Stadium.  She was scheduled to sing this song as the closing act which was to conclude a twelve hour concert for rock music fans.  This is from page 282 of the book:

"..(the crowds was) already high on booze and dope...The crowd was restless.  Few recognize Jessye Norman as the opera diva.  Alone, a capella, she begins to sing, very slowly the opening verse...A remarkable thing happens in Wembley Stadium that night.  Seventy thousand fans are singing along, digging far back in nearly lost memories for words they head long ago. 

When we've been there then thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We've no less days to sing God's praise

Than when we first begun.

Jessye Norman later confessed she had no idea what power descended on Wembley Stadium that night.  I think I know.  The world thirsts for grace.  When grace descends, the world falls silent before it.

A Kid's View of the Christmas Story

Thanks for sending this my way, Dottie.

Excerpted from the book "Peace Like a River"

by Leif Enger:

When I was born to Helen and Jeremiah Land, in 1951, my lungs refused to kick in. 

My father wasn't in the delivery room or even in the building; the halls of Wilson Hospital were close and short, and Dad had gone out to pace in the damp September wind. He was praying, rounding the block for the fifth time, when the air quickened.  He opened his eyes and discovered he was running - sprinting across the grass toward the door. 

"How'd you know?" I adored this story, made him tell it all the time. 

"God told me you were in trouble." 

"Out loud? Did you hear Him?" 

"Nope, not out loud. But He made me run, Reuben. I guess I figured it out on the way."

I had, in fact, been delivered some minutes before. My mother was dazed, propped against soggy pillows, unable to comprehend what Dr. Animas Nokes was telling her.

"He still isn't breathing, Mrs. Land."

"Give him to me!"

To this day I'm glad Dr. Nokes did not hand me over on demand. Tired as my mother was, who knows when she would've noticed? Instead he laid me down and rubbed me hard with a towel.. He pounded my back; he rolled me over and massaged my chest. He breathed air into my mouth and nose -- my chest rose, fell with a raspy whine, stayed fallen. Years later Dr. Nokes would tell my brother Davy that my delivery still disturbed his sleep. He's never seen a child with such swampy lungs. 

When Dad skidded into the room, Dr Nokes was sitting on the side of the bed holding my mother's hand. She was wailing -- I picture her as an old woman here, which is funny, since I was never to see her as one --and old Nokes was attempting to ease her grief. It was unavoidable, he was saying; nothing could be done; perhaps it was for the best. 

I was lying uncovered on a metal table across the room. 

Dad lifted me gently. I was very clean from all that rubbing, and I was gray and beginning to cool. A little clay boy is what I was. 

"Breathe," Dad said. 

I lay in his arms. 

Dr Nokes said "Jeremiah, it has been twelve minutes." 

"Breathe!" The picture I see is of Dad, brown hair short and wild, giving this order as if he expected noting but odedience. 

Dr. Nokes approached him. "Jeremiah. There would be brain damage now. His lungs can't fill." 

Dad leaned down, laid me back on the table, took off his jacket and wrapped me in it -- a black canvas jacket with a quilted lining, I have it still. He left my face uncovered. 

"Sometimes," said Dr. Nokes, "there is something unworkable in one of the organs. A ventricle that won't pump correctly. A liver that poisons the blood." Dr. Nokes was a kindly and reasonable man. "Lungs that can't expand to take in air. In these cases," said Dr. Nokes, "we must trust in the Almighty to do what is best."  At which Dad stepped across and smote Dr. Nokes with a right hand, so that the doctor went down and lay on his side with his pupils unfocused. As Mother cried out, Dad turned back to me, a clay child wrapped in a canvas coat, and said in a normal voice, "Reuben Land, in the name of the living God I am telling you to breathe."

... excerpted not only from Leif Enger's book PEACE LIKE A RIVER, but also from the book AT THE STILL POINT: A LITERARY GUIDE TO PRAYER IN ORDINARY TIME by Sarah Arthur

The Beggar's Slippers

Abraham Verghese brought the story of the beggar's slippers to my attention in Cutting for Stone.  It is worth a reprise here.  (Chapter 29 is the reference point for this story.)

Abu Kassem, a miserly Baghdad merchant, had held on to his battered, much repaired pair of slippers even though they were objects of derision.  At last, even he couldn't stomach the sight of them.  But his every attempt to get rid of his slippers ended in disaster: when he tossed them out of his window they landed on the head of a pregnant woman who miscarried, and Abu Kassem was thrown in jail; when he dropped them in the canal, the slippers choked off the main drain and caused flooding.  Off Abu Kassem went to jail...Abu Kassem might as well build a special room for his slippers.. Why try to lose them? He'll never escape. The slippers in the story mean that everything you see and do and touch, every seed you sow, or don't sow, becomes part of your destiny.

Abraham Verghese has one of his characters say this regarding the topic of making up for absences:

I made up for...(father's)... absence by hoarding knowledge, skills, seeking praise.  What I finally understood ...is that neither my sister nor I realized that my father's absence is our slippers.  In order to start to get rid of your slippers, you have to admit they are yours, and if you do, then they will get rid of themselves...The key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don't.  If you keep saying your slippers aren't yours, then your'll die searching, you'll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more.  Not only our actions, but our omissions, become our destiny. (Cutting for Stone, Chapter 29)

Over the years, I have tried to rid myself of many pairs of (emotional bondage) slippers: sorrow, grief and regrets are woven into the soles and fabric of my tattered slippers.

After I realized several pairs of "slippers" were mine for a lifetime, they wore better.  Even the calluses caused by the slippers have become part of me.  I look at them with curiosity and reluctant acceptance. Tough layers of skin... would I want to rid myself of those experiences that caused the calluses?   The slippers worn are not comfortable, yet have softened my heart and helped hardened my insecurities.  My own tattered slippers have helped mold me into one of God's loved, flawed, creations.

Chemo Hats and Interpreting Sickness in a Unique Way

This is the second one off the hook:

The same pattern of crocheted hat finished this week from this free Bernat pattern:

Here is another:

These hats are, of course, for my daughter Julie.  Julie had her first chemo treatment this week, along with the requisite anti-nausea drugs.  After three days post treatment, she is still not keeping anything down. Sigh.

And speaking of sickness and how we deal with it, I am borrowing this from Abigail at Abigail's Alcove:

...When I found out that my newborn needed emergency abdominal surgery, I immediately asked to have her baptized. If my baby girl had to undergo all of that suffering, I wanted it all to mean something. I wanted her incorporated into the mystical body of Christ. I wanted her hurt to save souls.

A birth defect is different from the ordinary effects of sin. My baby girl didn't get hit by a bullet or poisoned by an environmental toxin. The Creator of the World, the One who lovingly knit together my baby's body in the womb decided in His infinite wisdom to drop a purl stitch in the formation of my baby girl's intestine.

Futher reading can be found here by Abigail about her infant daughter's sickness.  It is well worth the read, and gave me pause after digesting her interpretation of why this birth defect happened to her child.  I hope you take the time to read it.

Maundy Thursday

What is Maundy Thursday?  In short, it is the day commemorating the Last Supper with Jesus and his disciples.

More information about the word "Maundy" from here:

1. (obsolete) A commandment.
2. (obsolete) The sacrament of the Lord's supper.
3. The ceremony of washing the feet of poor persons or inferiors, performed as a religious rite on Maundy Thursday in commemoration of Christ's washing the disciples' feet at the last supper.
4. The office appointed to be read during the ceremony of feet-washing.

Jacopo Bassano (1542)

Jacopo Bassano's Last Supper, painted in 1542, is one of the masterpieces of 16th century Italian painting. Instead of the elegant grouping of figures in Leonardos' painting, which inspired it, this dramatic scene features barefoot fishermen at the crucial moment when Christ asks who will betray him, and the light passing through a glass of wine stains the clean tablecoth red. Recent restoration has only now revealed the extraordinary original colours, which had been heavily painted over in the 19th century, when the emerald green and iridescent pinks and oranges were not in fashion.

and about the dog at the bottom of the painting:

The themes painted by Bassano are predominantly religious but in the Mannerist style he includes many every day articles, rural people, barns and farmhouses. His work is devoid of the grand temples, the silk and furs of his contemporaries; Bassano’s depictions are of normal people, undertaking daily tasks. Many of his works are Franciscan in content, full of nature and animals, the focal points of his pictures are often surrounded by detailed images of farm animals, dogs and cats. His painting Two hunting dogs tied to a tree is credited with being one of the first animal portraits in Western art in existence.

Ash Wednesday 2011 and Links

Most of the web sources speak of Ash Wednesday and Catholics.  But ... how about Lutherans, Episcopalians, and other Christian denominations and their observance of Ash Wednesday?  We observe it with ashes placed on our foreheads, also.

From Pie and Coffee, a thoughtful link with this passage included:

When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites. They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you”  –Matthew 6:16-18

from 24 US News:

Traditionally, the ash is a sign of repentance and carry the cross of ashes tell the world that you repent of your sins. The ashes were mixed with holy water burned the remains are made of palm leaves of the state of this year’s Palm Sunday service.

from People for Others:Change and conversion are not the same thing…

Change is required of us all. No one and nothing can stand still, cemented in the place, the work, the era that we had come to take for granted. However comforting the thought, however desirable the situation, what I am now, where I am now, will not always be.

Grace

Grace

is the force that infuses our lives and keeps letting us off the hook.

It is unearned love - the love that goes before, that greets us on the way.

It's the help you receive when you have no bright ideas left, when you are empty and desperate and have discovered that your best thinking and most charming charm have failed you.

Grace is the light or electricity of juice or breeze that takes you from that isolated place and puts you with others who are as startled and embarrassed and eventually grateful as you are to be there.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace -- only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.

by Anne Lamott

A Christmas Thought on Being Thankful

What is it all about?

Go here for a ponder.

Rudy Favard, 17, cradled Sammy Parker, 8, as he carried him upstairs. (Essdras M Suarez/Globe Staff)

Christmas Blessings to all, especially to the caregivers among us who often give more than gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Father Plough Shares at Christmas

This is taken from a series of homilies written and compiled into a spiral bound book "Father Plough Shares" by Fr. James Plough of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Grand Junction, Colorado:

...What did Joseph and Mary hope for on that first Christmas?  Remember that they were on a journey; they were away from home  They faced an uncertain future.  They lived in darkness.  The story of Bethlehem inevitably suggests a comparison between that moment and our own.

Our moment is a time of darkness, to be sure.  We face an uncertain future from weapons of mass destruction and shadowy networks of international terrorists.  Has the world ever known a more dangerous time than now?  The holy family had less to fear from the wicked King Herod than we do from today's radical extremists.  The holy family trusted that God's word to them would be fulfilled, that Mary would bear a son to be named Jesus.

...The story of the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem, taken in a particular place and in a particular moment of time, reminds us each year that our personal lives and the communal lives of nations are also journeys, moving always into an uncertain future, remembering the past and renewing its wisdom, but never simply repeating the past, a journey made in faith and trust, confident that the final word of the story will be one of light shining in darkness and life triumphant over death.

A Christmas Angel from Nebraska

This is a Garrison Keillor writing appropriate for the season:

...My own Christmas vision appeared three days before Christmas, in a deli on 10th Avenue in New York, where a rather elegant young woman was managing a herd of eight teenaged boys, ordering their breakfasts from the lady behind the counter. The boys spoke Spanish, which the young woman translated into English for the counter lady. I'm standing there, waiting my turn, observing. The boys are docile, cautious, soft-spoken, and then it dawns on me that they are so because of brain damage, mild retardation, however you want to put it, and the young woman is their hired shepherd. A teacher's aide, perhaps. Probably minimum wage. She is lovely, green-eyed, dark hair spilling down on a puffy parka, red wool scarf, and her English sounds very Midwestern to me.

The boys want muffins for breakfast except one boy who earnestly desires a sesame bagel, toasted, with cream cheese, but the deli is all out of sesame, and this is a cruel disappointment to him. He really was counting on it. When you are 14 and so desperately vulnerable in the big city, you do pin your hopes on certain small pleasures. His face crumples and he is about to melt, and the elegant young green-eyed woman puts her head down next to his where he sits slumped on the deli stool. Her pale cheek against his cheek, she murmurs to him and a string of his enormous tears runs onto her face and she wipes it away and says something in Spanish that makes him laugh. And then I notice at the end of her red scarf, the word "Nebraska." Nobody would wear this in New York except a Nebraskan.

I might've asked her a few questions, but she had turned her street face toward me, and so I didn't bother her. A girl from the prairie using her Spanish to care for damaged boys in a callous world where, contrary to everything the Savior said, the poor and powerless get short shrift -- in the U.S. Senate and elsewhere — and she is sharing the tears of the sesame boy and making him laugh. She's my Christmas angel. I hope she gets to go to a party and sing and dance until 3 a.m.

The Stewardship of Pain

You probably have a book, or poem, letter or picture you sometimes review to keep your focus on what is important in your life.

I would like to share this missile with universal meaning. These are excerpts from a sermon by Fredrick Buchner, whose "many books include the critically acclaimed The Sacred Journey, Whistling in the Dark, and Godric, which was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. The New York Times has called Fred Buechner the finest religious writer in America."  (Source: 30 Good Minutes)

The Physician, Pablo Ruiz (Ciencia Y Caridad, Barcelona, 1816-1897)

Someone once said to Buchner:

"You have had a fair amount of pain in your life, like everybody else. You have been a good steward of it."

That phrase caught me absolutely off guard -- to be a steward of your pain. I didn't hear it as a compliment particularly. It is not as if I had set out to be a steward of my pain, but rather something that happened.

I thought a lot about what the stewardship of pain means; the ways in which we deal with pain. Beside being a steward of it, there are alternatives. The most tempting is to forget it, to hide it, to cover it over, to pretend it never happened, because it is too hard to deal with.

Buechner goes on...

Stewardship of pain. What does that mean? I have thought a lot about it. I think it means, before anything else, to keep in touch with your pain, to keep in touch with the sad times, with the hard times of your past for many reasons. I think it is often those times when we were most alive, when we were somehow closest to being most vitally human beings. 

Keep in touch with it because it is at those moments of pain where you are most open to the pain of other people -- most open to your own deep places. Keep in touch with those sad times because it is then that you are most aware of your own powerlessness, crushed in a way by what is happening to you, but also most aware of God's power to pull you through it, to be with you in it. Keeping in touch with your pain, I think, means also to be true to who in your depths you have it in you to be -- depths of pain and also in a way depths of joy, because they both come from the same place.

Continuing: 

Pain can become a treasure if we treasure it to the point where it can become compassion and healing, not just for ourselves, but also for other people. If you want to see that sort of thing in operation, the treasuring of pain, the using of pain to the healing of yourself and others, someday attend an open meeting of AA or any of the related groups. That is exactly what those people are doing, sharing their hurts, their experiences and their joys.

And remember the cross. It seems to me that the cross of Christ in a way speaks somewhat like this same word, saying that out of that greatest pain endured in love and faithfulness, comes the greatest beauty and our greatest hope.

Read the entire writing of Fredrick Buchner here at 30 Good Minutes.  It is good to remember.

Better yet, listen to his sermon on your computer by clicking on his recording back in 1992.  It can be found at the top of the website.  His voice is comforting yet authoritative.

Remembering Rivka

Rivka, an amazing, generous, loving, faithful, Zionist (blogger friend) who went to Israel a while back, wrote a post Called "Choose Life" that can be found here.  She believed so much in fighting that dreaded disease of cancer that she made herself available to speak publicly about how to treat adversity while continuing to live the good life.  Rivka has several YouTube videos that can be viewed here and here and here and here.

In her words, on her blog, she says about herself:

Diagnosed with DCIS (stage ZERO breast cancer) at age 39 (June 2005). Three surgeries and 2 years later (July 2007)... I became a statistical anomaly: breast cancer mysteriously metastasized to my bones, liver and lungs. 2 years later (July 2009), we discovered metastases in my brain.

Diagnosis: Cancer is a "chronic illness." You can live with it.Translation: I hope to be on chemotherapy for a LONG time!

Sadly, Rivka's battle ended this weekend.  Her many friends sat Shiva for her and her funeral was Saturday night at 10 pm in Jerusalem at the Kehillat Yerushalayim Beit Hesped in Givat Shaul, Jerusalem, across from the Herzog Hospital (on Har Hamenuchot). Over 1000 people attended.  Loudspeakers allowed those outside the building to hear tributes to Rivka.

To learn more about Rivka and her strong faith, I would encourage you readers to go to her blog and read over her past few years of writing and encouragement.  Her blog can be accessed at http://www.coffeeandchemo.blogspot.com/ if you are not used to clicking on links.  Again, the web link is the same: CoffeeandChemo.

I did not know Rivka personally, but she had a very positive impact on my life.  Likewise, here is what Baila, another virtual blogger friend, said (go to Baila's blog here):

Some of my friends think this whole blogging relationship is just plain weird. They wonder why I talk to "strangers". They don't quite understand why I am so saddened by a death of someone who, in their mind, I barely knew. It's hard to explain to you non-bloggers. I don't quite understand it myself. But after blogging for some time, we find that the lines of our real and blogging lives somehow blur. RivkA wrote so honestly about her disease and her struggle that I feel like I did know her. I will miss her--I checked her blog daily, even before the last week. She posted almost everyday.

Baila said it well and I agree with her sentiments.

Rivka ended almost all of her postings this way:

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism, RivkA

(June, 2009)

I believe this is what her friends say now and may I also say that her battle is over and Rivka, may you rest in peace.

Please daven (or send happy thoughts) for the memory of RivkA bat Yishaya.

Remember Albom's book: The Five People You Meet in Heaven?

Generous Omi, thank you for picking my comment from your posting a few weeks ago, and sending me such a nice box full of goodies.

You might want to read about the amazing occurrence here that Omi and her dog were lucky enough to encounter...spoiler alert: a $500 table she coveted 11 years ago she now owns.

Back to the treats that Omi sent: at least 30 items including little soaps, trinkets, books, charms, buttons, yarn, magazines, pin cushions.  Oh, my!  She even sent extra goodies because she knows they can be passed along to our local hospice patients.

Which leads me to the wonderful thing that happened yesterday while Libby and I were visiting a very ill elderly woman in her last hours of her long life;  and hence, the title of the blog post.
                                                                  
                                                                The Event

Our patient (Mrs. A) was not rousing when Libby and I arrived at the nursing home, along with our special friend and new hospice volunteer, Mary.  The aides said she had been asleep all morning and they could not awaken her, and that likely she had only a few more hours of life.

Libby licked Mrs. A's hand and I talked to her, placing my hand on her shoulder.  Within five minutes, Mrs. A. began a very lucid conversation, and talked about how her daughters had come from long distances over the weekend to visit with her.  Mrs. A. petted Libby and continued in conversation with us for 20 minutes more. The nurses and aides were surprised that she rallied to raise her head and talk with us.

After Mrs. A was fully awake and conscious of her surroundings, an elderly woman was brought in to the room by her middle aged daughter.  The visitor was in a wheelchair, connected to oxygen and had a bit of difficulty in speaking due to lack of breath, but we understood within a few moments that this visitor was Mrs. A's long time best friend.

Mary, Libby and I excused ourselves with heartfelt goodbyes and returned to our car. 

Mitch Albom  in his book The Five People You Meet in Heaven posits that we are all connected to another, and that an action undertaken by one person is destined to have an unanticipated and often life-changing influence upon someone else.

Perhaps the reason for our simple visit and leaving a small gift was simply to awaken Mrs. A. so that she could see her best friend and talk a bit with her before she left this world.

Makes sense to me.