Tuesday, August 20, 2013


Some days, out of nowhere, I feel fragile.

I don't know why...sometimes I want to say, "There's a disturbance in the force."  Is my dad around somewhere, poking through the veil between heaven and earth with a finger, a hand, an arm?  What causes this sense of being so fragile I might cry at any thought?  I did cry on the way to drop the children off at daycare this morning, crying along to songs from Lemonade Mouth, to "We Will Rock You," songs that do not elicit tears.

But when I feel fragile, I also feel more in touch.  More in touch with the delicate nature of life, of existence, of nature and movement and the atmosphere.  I feel more connected to the members of the congregation I serve, like I have a more expansive place now to hold their sadness, their anxiety, their trepidation.

I can count about 5 people right now I know who are making the slow decline into dementia.  It breaks my heart.  For some reason, when I thought about ministry, I didn't think about the encounter with the loss of minds, the loss of reason.  There have been times in the past week where I haven't been sure what is true and what is an apparition.  I try to just be with people, not to constantly tick off in my mind if what they're saying is accurate to reality or not.  Try to keep them safe, from wandering off down the hospital corridor to speak to "those people on the bench; I should go talk to them."  There is no bench, there are no people. Why does this happen to the mind later in life?  Is the mind worn out?  Parts gone missing?

God draw near, be with us, help us all.