METAPHOR FOR STEVE

Years ago, my husband and I discovered a wonderful place to unwind and regroup at a rustic inn located in a hiker's wooded paradise an hour or so by car from our home. While we were there, I had the most profound conversation with the owner of the inn, Ellen...

Ellen had taken over the management of the inn from her mother, Ann, who had died several months before from mouth cancer. The inn had long been a dream of Ann's, one that she had been able to bring forth in spite of countless obstacles; and just as her dream was coming to fruition, she became ill. During her transition from life on this earth to whatever "hearafter" she, I, or anyone reading this might believe in,she wrote a short book..."A Journal of a Dying", that chronicled her last weeks, and the love, support and care she received from her daughter and woman-friends as they accompanied her to that door through which only she could pass.

After learning that I had once worked with a hospice organization, and was at the time, both a doula and a nursing student hoping to study midwifery, Ellen gave me a copy of her mother's journal to read. I spent three hours of a rainy Saturday, snuggled in a chair by the wood stove in the common room of the inn, and devoured the book. Ann spoke clearly to me, and whoever else had the opportunity to read her words, "hear" her voice through the pages she wrote while she waited to step into eternity. The last chapter of the book was written by Ellen, as Ann had lost the strength to write. It was a bittersweet ending, but one filled with the joy and hope brought by knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this life is not the total of our experience...it's just the beginning.

I was so overwhelmed by the book, that I sought out Ellen to tell her how much I loved it. She responded with the most amazing thoughts. I can't remember her words exactly, but they were something like this...

"I knew you would appreciate it. I remember having my own children; and while my mother was dying, I remember thinking how similar dying seemed to labor...it's unimaginable pain; it's incredibly hard work; the people you love do everything they can to help you through it, but you know that, ultimately, the only person who can do this is you; and just at about that point, a "peace" comes into the room; a laboring mother seems to become unaware of what's going on around her...she's moved inside of herself, accepting the inevitable, gathering all her will and power to get this done; the dying person begins to seem as if they have one foot in this world, and one in the world they are about to enter; and then, just when you think you you can't take another minute, not another second of this, a life tumbles into the room, or through to the next dimension, and there is sense of profound relief. No more pain, no more struggling. Lots of tears...but also a sense of joy...as bittersweet when a loved one dies, as it is a celebration when a loved one is born. It's two poles of the same experience".

I was speechless (and if you knew me, you'd know how extraordinary that is). Ellen's metaphor was so profound to me. I've never forgotten it. Indeed, I'm privileged to see this miracle of transition several times a week as I nurse mothers through their labors; I remember seeing it when I worked in hospice, and I saw it when I held vigil with my mother, my brother, and my sisters as my father died.

And now I'm seeing it with Steve...a wonderful, anointed, learned man, a special friend, someone who my husband and I, although we don't see him often, will miss dearly when he dies. I wrote this entry for Steve, his beautiful (in every sense of that word) wife Sharon, and their three equally beautiful daughters. Steve is dying. He's fought his disease with all the strength and resources at his disposal; and now he's accepted, probably more fully than anyone else, the inevitable outcome of his journey.

It isn't fair! He's too young. He and Sharon were just getting back to that "just you and me, kid" phase of their marriage when the responsibilities of parenting give way to more time for each other, and a future filled with grandchildren, travel, and many more happy expectations. He's well-known in his field...his contributions are huge...and there were many more to be made; but those are my gripes. Steve seems to have made his peace with it. Here, I want to share parts of the last few entries he's made in the online journal he keeps to communicate to his family, and to scores of friends, clients, and colleagues who love him dearly...

+++++


Wednesday, April 30, 2008, 10:22 PM, CDT

This is such a strange and surreal time - standing in the gap between earth and
eternity. I feel that all I need to do is
take a nap or exercise and then everything will be
normal. Then I recall that I'm wearing a powerful pain
patch, taking anti-nausea medications, am getting IV
fluids for advanced and terminal cancer. I'm blessed
to have wise medical counsel so that I can experience
these beautiful though surreal days of quality.

I believe that shortly I will be called into eternity. I will be
called by a new name and go to a place that has been prepared for
me. I will recognize my new name when I hear it. When we
encounter God, there's always a change. and often a struggle accompanies this transformation (ed. emphasis mine)
I'm living the struggle, encountering God in
new ways, being changed...


Friday, April 25, 2008, 04:37 PM, CDT - Greeting Friends and Family,

An interesting thing has been happening. Various persons have
responded to our current circumstance by saying that they feel
called by God to show love in a special way to us. I'd like
to put this in a larger context. Think of the words like
calling, promise, covenant. One way God calls us to serve is
by specifically laying on our hearts something that we can
promise to another person. For example, someone could say, 'I
promise to look out for you in your dating relationships with
young men in the absence of your father.

So times like this transition between earth and eternity
provide a special summons to think through these
opportunities. I want to challenge you to think about how
God may be calling you to make a divinely inspired
commitment, promise, or covenant to someone's needs that
you are keenly aware of and you are equipped to serve. Is
God speaking to you?

In this simple and practical way we are loving one another.
And that's what it is all about.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008 10:38 PM, CDT

Greeting Beloved. This is the most important message I've yet
sent to you from my perspective. This morning I h ad a most
surpassing spiritual experience. I want to place it into
three parts (1) the context, (2) the message, (3) and the
experience.

(1) The context is that we had just decided to pursue hospice
care in order to have quality of life for the remainder of my
life rather than furter treatments or interventions since my
diagnosis is terminal. I see th is as an opportunity to
celebrate the transition between earth and eternity. So with
this backdrop I went to sleep at 12:30 AM and awakened at 5:30
AM with an incredibly crystal clear message. The message
follows:

(2) Peace.
Life Death
Live a good life.
Do Good.
Accept Salvation through Christ.
Die.
Live Eternally.
Peace.

(3) Lastly let me convey the experience. I had the most
overwhelming experience of PEACE that I have ever had in
my life. So my wish for you is that you too find Peace
as God calls unto you.

I love you. thanks for your ceaseless prayers and support.
Steve.

+++++


This is the best way I could think of to pay tribute to such a
remarkable man, and his beautiful family...to share his words in context with the words Ellen shared with me all those years ago. In response to Steve's
encouragement to make a "covenant to someone's needs"...that I am "equipped to
serve", I'm blessed with several, at least. My estranged friend Kathy will be getting a bouquet of yellow roses on her 50th birthday this month (she's from Texas); I'm seeing my husband, and my love for him in a whole new light...and my life in a perspective that, while it is full of potential and possibilities I now
remember to remind myself is a gift, just as it is in the here and now; and I'm blessed
to be "equipped" to provide nursing care to women as they labor to bring their
babies into the world. I'm blessed to be able to say that this is my calling.

Steve's calling was to help people heal their relationships...with their partners, their families, their God, their selves. He continues to do so in no less
a profound way than he did while he shared his gift in countless books, journal articles, or, most importantly, face-to-face sharing with those he felt called to serve...and who felt called to reach out to him. His work has "given birth" to renewed marriages, healed relationships, and a unique form of therapeutic communication that is being taught and used with great success all over the world.

I can't quite bring myself to say the the words..."I will miss you, Steve". Because your presence will always be strong in your written works, and in the love you shared with the people you guided through pain to healing. It will be strong in my memories of your voice, your smile, and yep, that little sigh of frustration I could just barely hear, and that oh, so subtle quizzical look on your face when I just wasn't "getting it".

Steve, I "get it" now.

And I thank you.

Thanks. It seems like such a tiny word relative to all you have done for us.

That is how you loved your God; that is how you loved everyone who ever had the
privilege of meeting or knowing you.

And yes, that is certainly what it is all about..