Palliative Care

Palliate: to ease (as in a disease) without curing.  

The first things I would like you to consider in these thoughts today are the lyrics to this popular 1970’s song by Jackie DeShannon: 

Think of your fellow man

Lend him a helping hand

Put a little love in your heart.

You see it’s getting late

Oh, please don’t hesitate

Put a little love in your heart.

And the world will be a better place…for you, and me, you just wait and see…

Take a good look around

And if you’re looking down

Put a little love in your heart.

I hope when you decide

Kindness will be your guide

Put a little love in your heart.

And the world will be a better place…for you, and me, you just wait and see. [Just] put a little love in your heart . . . put a little love in your heart.   

I have often thought, and expressed, that if we just had something like the words of that song, or an inspirational proverb, or poem or prayer, or image of a good and kindly person who portrays those sentiments to fill our minds during its ‘down time’—like a screen-saver—how much more likely it would be for us to ‘go and do likewise.’   As Jesus gave us His example and enjoined us, “As I have loved you, love one another.” That is palliative care.
 
It was curative care when He performed His great Atonement for us. He did both.

I have recently become friends with a lovely lady named Cynthia who portrays those qualities.  She is a resident (and has been for a dozen years) of the nursing care facility where my mother resides and where I visit 4-5 times per week.  Cynthia has had many severe challenges over the years (now including virtual blindness) but has always rallied and is a veritable ray of sunshine to those who have had the privilege of meeting her.  She told me recently, but without complaint, that she has wondered why she has been preserved so long (yet she is still a young woman).  It is very clear to me why.  She can, and does, affect others and make them want to try to be more like her: welcoming, cheerful, uncomplaining, thoughtful, insightful, listening, positive.  She has much to give.  She does not put her candle under a basket, but rather gives light to all in the house.  

So, “take a good look around and if you’re looking down” put a little love in your heart and maybe you’ll see Cynthia, and your “world will be a better place.”  That is why she is still here. She came there to receive palliative care; she gives it to any who come into her presence, as does her roommate Ann.

Thanks, Cynthia--and Ann. 

Confessions of a Mormon Bishop

I served for several years as a Mormon bishop.  One of my former ward members sent this to me and I pass it on to you.  Most of what Bishop Hill writes could have been written—probably less elegantly—by others of us who served in this heart-wrenching, humility-producing, life-changing capacity.  What a blessing it was for us, and I hope the members of our wards.  I have inserted just a couple of things in brackets [ ] to clarify matters a bit from my own personal experience.  Otherwise, much of his experience was my experience.  Ron Miller, 23 March 2013 

by Russ Hill on March 19, 2013

I pulled into my driveway at 12:30 this morning.

I sat in the car in front of our dark house for a few minutes.  Everyone inside was asleep.  The whole neighborhood was still.  And yet my mind was racing.  So many questions.  So many emotions.  Sadness.  Hope.  Inadequacy.

Welcome to the life of a Mormon bishop.

Like pastors, priests, and clergy in other religions, those of us asked to serve as a bishop in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints spend hours behind closed doors meeting with people who allow us into the darkest corners of their lives.

They come to us for various reasons. 

Because of guilt.  Because they have lost hope.  Because they have been betrayed.  Because they don’t know where else to go.  Because they feel worthless.  Because the person they are isn’t the person they want to be.  Because they have questions.  Because they have doubts.  Because they believe in a forgiving God yet feel disconnected from Him.

They come and sit in front of me.  Some hesitate.  Take a deep breath.  And grasp for courage to say out loud what they have been hiding inside for days, weeks, or years.

Others almost run in.  They spill before I sit.  They’re anxious to clear their conscience or announce their doubts.

Each one is different.

For hours every week I sit.  And listen.

I did not ask for this opportunity.  I never considered I might someday have an office in a church. I have [R.M.—have had some] no professional training for this position.  I am not a scriptural scholar [R.M. –I   try to be one for one simple purpose—to serve my God and my brothers and sisters more adequately.]  I have not walked through vineyards with robe-wearing monks.  And, if you’re wondering about vows of celibacy let me introduce you to my four kids.

All I did was answer a phone call.  Show up for a meeting.  And nod when asked if I would serve.

I don’t sometimes wonder why me.  I always wonder why me.

And yet they come.  Share their stories.  And look to me for wisdom.

I’m not sure any of them have learned from me. [I believe some have because both I and the person sitting across from me have, on occasion, felt the Holy Spirit very strongly.]  But, I have learned so much in the hours I’ve sat in that office listening to them.

I have learned that we believe it is a strength to conceal weakness.

I have learned that it is easy to want others to overlook our flaws as we expect perfection in them.

I have learned that it is hardest to show compassion and grant forgiveness to those closest to us.

I have learned that while curiosity is a strength it can also be a curse.

I have learned that we are creatures of habit.

I have learned that faith is a muscle.

I have learned that it is far easier to deny deity than to deny desire.

I have learned the mystery surrounding death forces a consideration of spiritual matters.

I have learned that observance of the Sabbath recalibrates perspective and improves judgment.

I have learned that most of us bear scars from the failure, disappointment, and fear in our lives.  And, we prefer to wear long sleeves.

I have learned that to deal with life’s pain most of us choose one of the following: alcohol, drugs, pornography, [virtual or cyberspace ‘reality’ or escape] or spirituality.

I have learned alcohol and drugs are the easiest path.  As long as you’re willing to never stop drinking, smoking, or swallowing. [And if you do the path broadens and descends.]

I have learned pornography is highly addictive and has nothing to do with sexual appetites and everything to do with escape.  And that the habit is never overcome in isolation.

I have learned that we feel like a failure when we make mistakes even when we profess a belief that the purpose of this existence is to make and learn from them.

I have learned that forgiveness is the greatest gift we can offer someone.  And ourselves. [And can receive freely from our loving God upon our sincere repentance. 'Come,' He implores.]

I have learned that many know about Jesus Christ but more of us could make an effort to know Him.

I have learned that the strongest among us are those with the cleanest mirrors.

I have learned that the sins of parents profoundly affect children.  And are often repeated by them.

I have learned that affection from parents profoundly affects children.

I have learned that most communication between parents and children is what psychologists call “superficial.” Strong relationships are built on the “validating” variety.

I have learned that children desperately desire parents who listen.

I have learned that churches are not museums or catwalks for perfected saints but rather labs for sinners. [Just as life is not a playground, but a laboratory.]

I have learned that “tolerate” and “love” are two very different verbs despite what popular culture professes.

I have learned that there’s more sadness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned there is more goodness in this world than I had realized.

I have learned that to be happy is a choice.

I have learned those preoccupied with serving others have less time to count their problems.

I have learned that a habit of one brief moment of spirituality a day can alter one’s entire direction.

I have learned that we want God to grant us space to make decisions but step in to stop others, nature, mortality, or illness from hurting us or those we love.

I have learned those who have made more mistakes have a great gift.  Empathy.  Now to the matter of searching out someone who hungers for it.

Indeed, I have learned I have much to learn.

The names of those I meet with will never be known.  Confidentiality demands I never disclose their stories.

But, late last night as I sat in my car on the driveway I decided I should compile a list of what the people I meet with are teaching me. [The list goes on, and will go on, each day as we are willing to be taught.]

And, I wanted to share it.

The Thrill of Victory; the Agony of Defeat

Probably every native-born American sports fan over the age of 30 is familiar with that iconic phrase uttered by sportscaster Jim McKay as he opened ABC’s Wide World of Sport television program from the 1960’s to the late 1990’s.  

That the agony of defeat is felt by every athlete and other competitors in the arena of life is not contested.  That it should be felt is another matter.  My experience in life has confirmed for me the counterpoint cliché, ‘It is not whether you win or lose, it is how you play the game,’ truly does trump the thrill/agony response.  The winner/loser dichotomy is a fiction. 

Let’s look at the realities.

Every baseball M.V.P gets out at bat more often than he gets on base.  Every skier or skater falls down or slips more often than they achieve a personal best or a gold medal.  In golf, more first putt attempts are missed than are made. Even elite basketball players rarely make better than about 60% of their competitive shots. Most research and development ideas do not become technological ‘successes’ on first attempts.

Contrary to the ‘absolute’ notion, most ‘victories’ are relative.  ‘Defeats’ are also relative.  There are many variables that lead to so-called victories or defeats.  The playing field, so to speak, is not always level.  Not only are the competitors often unequal in height, or weight, or strength, or body composition, or mental acumen, or coaching, or opportunity to train or compete with equal equipment or under optimum conditions, or provided equal financial support, but sometimes the ‘victory’ or ‘defeat’ hinges on such things as a ‘good bounce,’ plain luck, or a sound night’s sleep, or injury, or bad (or good) calls by officials, or distractions by fans, or by emotional distractions or changing weather conditions, or equipment deficiencies, or by supporting players, or fan influence,  or investment support, etc., etc. 

Success in school or in personal relationships or the business world is fraught with the same kind of variables.  Where one is born or lives, into what kind of family support system, under what kind of school environment, the quality of one’s teachers or one’s opportunities, one’s network of friends, one’s role models, one’s health, etc., all factor in.  

A win doesn’t always go to the ‘better’ player, or team, or person or even idea.  A loss is not always deserved; and certainly many ‘losses,’ when one gains perspective, are not losses at all but instead are springboards to growth.  Indeed, we should learn from every outcome—good or bad. 

How a person responds to challenges—artificial as in sport or imposed upon or fallen into as in life circumstance—is the greater measure of whether one is a ‘winner’ or a ‘loser.’  For ‘winner’ or ‘loser’ there should be no defeat if engagement in the contest was done fairly and to the best of one’s ability. 

The apostle Paul, as usual,  had it right: "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed" (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). 

Every child or man or woman is not a winner—but everyone could be.  Just check your premises or criteria.