Offer My Heart to the Least of These

Chaplain Amy Jones delivered this message as a sermon. She often uses the wheelchair as her working "pulpit" as it is the only seat available in most places. In her ministry as a hospice chaplain, Amy is clear that we are not strangers when the Christ in you meets the Christ in me. Thank you, Amy, for offering your heart to the least of these and that includes most of us.

She is sleeping right now. 
She is covered up to her chin in blankets… 
Always cold. 
There are not enough covers to swaddle this 
Daughter of God.

I gaze upon her face… 
Her thinning long gray hair is pulled back into a braided pony tail. 
A jutting chin… 
A furrowed brow… 
Jagged lower teeth all yellowed… 
which show her age… 
90 years. 
Every wrinkle on her face tells a story… 
She has weathered more storms than one 
should have to bear in ten lifetimes… 
She has remarkable strength.

I watch her breathe and sleep. 
She is unaware that she is being watched over… 
As I sit with her and absorb all that she had told me so far.

I cannot presume to know the depths of who she is. 
But what I do know about her… 
Her life has resonated with mine...

When I first met her, 
She had just been placed into a nursing home a week 
after her husband of 70 years died. 
Anguish is the only word that is even close in describing 
what her week had been. 
What I expected to be a “meet and greet” visit 
To establish rapport 
Turned into a life changing visit for me….

In this first visit, 
I expected to find a grieving widow. 
I expected to hear stories of 70 years of marriage. 
I expected to provide comfort 
In her hour of grief…

Sometimes it is best to walk into someone's life 
without expectations. 
As she did not meet the ones I had anticipated... 
She exceeded them… 
she had other grief to expel from her body and spirit. 
Ancient grief, in fact. 
What I experienced were the emotions of pain and sorrow 
That were buried deep within her spirit 
That they seemed to come from the very center of the earth. 
Her cries were deep. 
Her lament was loud and long. 
Even though she spoke softly…

I walked into the flaming cauldron of her heart... 
Without any kind of warning or shield for myself. 
I should also add that my immune system 
Was being compromised on that day… 
I knew I was coming down with bronchitis or something 
That was blocking my lungs from breathing deeply 
And exhaling fully. 
I could feel a fever making its way into my body. 
I was not strong when I met her. 
It took everything I had to listen to her and not collapse of exhaustion. 
I knew that I was completely spent before I went to visit her. 
It was probably that very thing 
that changed my approach to pastoral care… 
That my own vulnerabilities intermingled with hers… 
Her vulnerabilities spoke to mine… 
And I felt the full force of her energy… 
And her spirit…

When I left this first visit… 
I missed the next ten days of work… 
She literally knocked the breath out of me… 
Her sorrow was the emotional breaking point for me. 
I finally gave into the 
emotional exhaustion I had been experiencing for months. 
As I sought to regain my footing and balance again… 
This church... you... stepped in to help me find my footing… 
Chicken soup does a lot for the soul… 
Prayers... even more... 
I knew I was not alone in this work… 
But that you all were with me. 
We were in this together…

To come back to this daughter of God... 
This one... this single child... 
I could feel the chronic and deep anguish of her soul... 
She was going to die this way... 
with this frame of mind... 
I did not want to see this happen…my work was cut out. 
She did not deserve to die in the same anguish 
And despair 
She had felt her whole life… 
She deserved to be loved... 
She deserved to find this love and experience it 
before she left this world....

This is our purpose on this earth... 
To love 
and to be loved... 
The only thing that I could do... 
And our hospice team... 
All we could do was to love her to the point 
that we hoped it would permeate her being 
before she died.

I had no tools... 
no skill sets... 
Other than helplessness… 
And other than to just be with her in that moment... 
and listen... 
and sit by the fires of her soul. 
I didn’t know it at the time… 
but that was the very thing she needed… 
Many of my visits were silent… as she slept... 
I imagined that we were both sitting at the 
blazing fire of her heart, 
And sharing in what would arise. 
Even the flames and smoke of our hearts 
Rise up to the heavens… 
To God… 
As prayers...

Words are not necessary for God to know our hearts. 
All she needed was someone to share the fire with her heart… 
So we sat around the fire of her heart… 
And I listened… 
I listened through the flames… 
I listened when she spoke... 
Out of the silence she said... 
“Sometimes I just want to fly away 
And escape it all... that would be nice”…

So I mirrored to her a Psalm… 
A Psalm that I know she didn’t know existed... 
But one that I knew could give her assurance 
that hers was not the only voice 
not the only cry 
not the one voice in a wilderness of abandonment...

(Psalm 55:1-9) 
Give ear, O God, to my prayer; 
Do not ignore my plea; 
Pay heed to me and answer me. 
I am tossed about, complaining and moaning 
At the clamor of the enemy, 
Because of the oppression of the wicked; 
For they bring evil upon me 
And furiously harass me. 
My heart is convulsed within me; 
Terrors of death assail me. 
Fear and trembling invade me; 
I am clothed with horror. 
I said, 
“Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! 
I would fly away and find rest; 
Surely, I would flee far off; 
I would lodge in the wilderness; 
I would soon find me a refuge 
From the sweeping wind, 
From the tempest.”

After reading those words... 
she said 
“That’s just what I would say. That hits the nail on the head”… 
I mirrored other laments to her… 
And I watched her posture change… 
She sat up... with her head tilted...and ear tuned in... 
As if listening to the ancient voices who joined with her... 
She was not alone... 
It was as if she realized that her prayers really could be heard… 
Her voice was heard…

She is that voice within all of us who sometimes cries 
From the depths… 
From the abyss… 
Wondering what to do when our faith is in crisis… 
Wondering if there even is a God who hears us... 
She gave voice to those places in us 
That we dare not speak… 
And that most of us don’t have the courage to go… 
But really… 
The only way out of those places is to 
Go to them and listen to their cries… 
and let them speak... 
And move through the valley of the shadow of death... 
Knowing that wherever we are in life...God is present... 
We are not alone...

Psalm 139...

“where can I go from your Spirit? 
Where can I flee from your presence? 
If I ascend to heaven, you are there. 
If I make my bed in the depths of hell, you are there. 
If I take wing with the dawn 
To come to rest on the western horizon, 
Even there your hand will be guiding me, 
Your right hand will be holding me fast. 
If I say Surely darkness will conceal me, night will provide me with cover, 
Darkness is not dark for you 
And night is as light as day; 
Darkness and light are the same…”

There is no place we can go 
Where God is not present. 
There is nothing we cannot say to God… 
Even in our silences, God hears our cries. 
The fires of our heart will rise to the heavens... 
Even when we feel abandoned, 
God is in the midst…

At the root and core of the center of this abandoned cry… 
Is the cry to be loved… 
The cry to be noticed… 
The cry to know that we matter… 
That we have purpose on this earth… 
It is only in being present to this cry 
That we can move through it… 
Either with ourselves or with someone else. 
And find our purpose...and find that infinite and comprehensive love of God...

Sometimes the only way the covered wounds of our heart 
Can be healed is if we open them up… 
Exposing them to the light that shines in the darkness… 
So as to risk being healed by God. 
And find the kind of love that exists 
And the kind of love we are called to have 
And to share… 
Everything else is just chaff which the wind drives away…

She opened her wounded and shattered heart in my presence… 
I was that light… 
We were that light together… 
We were present. 
This is what we do beyond these walls…

(pause)

She keeps saying to me that she’s held on for about as 
Long as she can… 
I know she does not want to die in this nursing home… 
But this where she died… 
All I could do is intermingle her sorrow with peace and love… 
This was my plan of care for her… 
Love drives out all fear… 
And the peace of Christ passes all understanding… 
All I could do for her is mirror this aspect of Christ’s character… 
As she mirrored the aspects of sorrow and despair… 
The suffering Christ… 
The Christ who cried out on the cross 
“my God, why have you forsaken me?” 
The reflection of Christ’s love will shine the eternal light 
Into the darkness of her soul… 
Christ’s love always wins… 
This I know…

She did not push pastoral care away… 
Although she had every reason… 
“as long as you don’t push religion on me, you can stay 
And just listen. 
God fell asleep at the wheel when it comes to people like me… 
I haven‘t spoke to God in 30 years because he doesn‘t listen.”

And so I listened. 
I spoke to God for her… 
I became her voice to God… 
I prayed her prayers for her... 
She and I were not strangers when we met… 
The Christ in her recognized the Christ in me… 
And we talked… 
We shared holy conversation… 
And we ministered to one another… 
This is how it is supposed to be in this life… 
When the Christ in you meets the Christ in me… 
we are not strangers… 
We simply have to learn to listen to the dimensions 
Of Christ’s character… 
And align ourselves with the heart of Christ. 
And move in tune with Christ’s spirit… 
Which moves and sways us in directions that we cannot anticipate… 
We simply need to be attentive to his heartbeat…and ours… 
And move together in unison… 
Not to go off on a tangent…

In one visit… 
When she was awake, 
I said… 
“You know, if I could, I would find a big old rocking chair 
And just hold and rock you… you can do this in your mind and heart… 
Just imagining God as that mother with arms who will 
Hold you and rock you…” 
She said… “I like the sound of that. That would be nice…”

It was not until what was to be my last visit with her 
That I was able to actually hold her and rock her… 
She was crumpled in a fetal position on the edge of her bed… 
Head in her hands… 
Covering her face… 
And I have to say that this was always her posture… 
Being crumpled over… 
It was the loneliest image I have ever encountered in this work…

So, I simply sat with her for almost two hours in silence… 
With hymns playing on my I Pod… 
Just holding her, 
Rocking her, 
Loving her... 
Being the arms of God to her. 
She responded by leaning up against me and receiving love… 
She let her head rest on my shoulder...

I left her with words of love… 
Words of thanksgiving for her life… 
For her wisdom… 
Thanked her for all she taught me… 
And how much she touched my heart… 
And kissed her on the forehead… 
Telling her I loved her with the love of Christ… 
I prayed for her, and asked God to hold her close… 
And to love her down to the last cell of her body… 
I thanked God for her and for her gifts of wisdom 
And all that she had taught me. 
I thanked God for not giving up on her 
And for understanding where she was. 
I asked God to heal her heart 
And love her through the sorrow. 
She responded by saying “thank you for sitting with me. 
I feel better.” 
It was a wordless visit for the most part… 
But a visit that was filled with healing…

It would be the last time I was to see her, 
as she found the ability to let go. 
She didn’t have to hang on to this life any longer.

If she has not taught me anything else, 
She taught me to bring my heart with me… 
And be as vulnerable as she has felt throughout life. 
And show it to her 
And offer it to her… 
I could only love her into death. 
Christ was present as someone 
who is beautiful and steadfast in love… 
And who held his arms out ready to catch her when she relinquished her hold on this life.

As I have thought about this concept of offering to her my heart… 
It has occurred to me that I am offering my heart to Christ… 
The Christ in her… 
The suffering servant… 
The one who is acquainted with grief… 
The one who has been forsaken… 
The one who has been abandoned… 
Left for dead.

(Isaiah 53:3-5) 
<em>She was despised and shunned by us. 
She was a woman of suffering, 
Well acquainted with grief 
And familiar with disease. 
As one who hid her face from us, 
She was despised, 
We held her of no account. 
Yet it was our sickness that she was bearing 
Our suffering that she endured. 
We accounted her as plagued, 
Smitten and afflicted by God; 
But she was wounded because of our sins, 
Crushed because of our iniquities. 
She bore the chastisement that made us whole, 
And by her bruises we were healed…”</eM>

We found her. 
We... the hospice team. 
We... the church. 
We loved her. 
We bound and dressed her wounds. 
We picked her up and rocked her. 
We pampered her and poured out all of the compassion 
of our hearts on her. 
She crept into all of our hearts… 
When we found out she had died... 
Her nurse and I held one another and cried. 
We celebrated what we gave her, 
That we, together, caught this woman 
In our arms… 
And loved her into death.

We... the hospice team... 
saw the violence that she endured throughout her life… 
And what she bore… 
And what she represented… 
As being that abused child, 
That oppressed woman… 
Those who live on the margins... 
That fatherless woman who only knew 
a father who dispensed violence 
Rather than love… 
She was that one who lived in poverty and destitution… 
Believing that joy and love were illusions... 
We caught the sorrow of her heart 
as she let it go… 
And we held her. 
We shared her sorrow and intermingled it 
with peace and compassion. 
We loved her. 
We gave her the experience that peace and love 
Does exist in this world… 
So she could let go in peace... sorrowful as it was...

I can only believe that at the moment of her last breath, 
That she was able to give her broken heart to God 
As her offering… 
Knowing that she could trust, 
Knowing that God was not to blame… 
But that God was waiting for her to let go of her life 
And receive an eternal life of wholeness, peace and love.

Chaplain Amy Jones shares these thoughts out her ministry as a hospice chaplain. Amy is a chaplain with Providence Health and Home Services, Beaverton, Oregon. She is endorsed by The United Methodist Endorsing Agency and an elder and member of the Northern Illinois Annual Conference.