Adventures in PC (Pastoral Care)
I was born to be a pastoral care visitor. That doesn’t mean I’m very good at it. I mean, you can be pre-wired to be a rocket scientist and fail Grade 9 physics because you skip class. My problem is not failing to show up – it’s failing to shut up. (I talk too much.) Still, I do love it. For me, its both the opportunity to make a new friend AND the chance to read a living book.
I was not born with a good sense of direction, however. More on that later.
I’m a pastoral care visitor for “Church of the Mother Hen” (not the real name) here in AZ. How did that come about? Three things happened. One, our pastor gave a sermon on the sheep and the goats. One of the sins of the bad goats is that they failed to visit the lonely and imprisoned. OK, being a Canadian, it might be hard for me to visit the imprisoned in the USA, but I could surely visit the lonely.
Two, my mom – Granny Marj – gave me full permission to go to AZ for six months of the year. Being 95, she could make an issue of it. But she doesn’t. If fact she insists Laur and I go while we still can. Says she, “Your Dad and I enjoyed our sixties, and you should too. Besides, what could you do that others can’t do?” True dat. And we can visit by phone, and we do. Three, I saw a sign on our church bulletin board – looking for volunteers for various areas, including pastoral care. Yee haw!
For whatever reason, whenever I volunteer to do something, I feel a need to perform a song and dance routine. I expect this is related to the years I spent applying for (and not getting) paying work in Sudbury. So, I write a cover letter and resume and include references. I offer to provide proof of my qualifications (pictures of degrees and certificates) and I offer to go for, and pay for, my own criminal records check.
Very sweet, the chair of the search committee kindly wrote me back and assured me I didn’t have to do an audition. Just show up for a meeting. I did. I was so excited! And what a wonderful group of caring people the care team is (which is as it should be, I guess.) I was given a list of four people the care team felt would like a visit. Yee haw! I was on this like beans on toast.
When I told my mom, we chuckled that when the four people heard who was going to be visiting them, they would claim to be instantly healed. Anything to avoid being visited by “Cathy Chatty” me. And I confess, I was a little sad (and a little suspicious) that all four of my people didn’t need to be visited because they were very busy with family and friends. Mind you, this was the Christmas season, so that does make sense. 😊
Next month, I struck gold. A new gal on the list welcomed visits in the Jelly Bean Happy Home (not the really name) she was staying at while her spouse was having surgery. I didn’t phone this time. I just showed up beaming - with a loot bag full of goodies including ginger ale, oatmeal cookies, a flower decorated pen, a word search, and a silly card. She didn’t dive under the bed when I arrived. (Granted, she does have limited mobility.) In fact, Zina (not her real name) was very glad to see me.
We had a lovely chat. We have more in common than not – including a great love of cats. I asked permission to visit her the following week and she readily agreed. I could not believe my good fortune. During the week I sent Zina a card with one of my favourite stories “Samuel Emmanuel – the cat who wandered into a church and became part of the pastoral care team. https://www.guideposts.org/friends-and-family/pets/cats/the-heaven-sent-tabby-cat
My second visit to Zina – I figured I could find her care home without a map. It was only a few blocks from me. I inconveniently forgot that the first time, I had had a detailed map, and it still took me a few tries to find the right road and the right house number. Off I went.
Bingo! Found the care home with no trouble at all. Pulled up in front of the house and was about to get out of the car when I noticed a sign with the words “B*tch Parking” in large letters. I thought to myself. “That’s odd for a senior’s facility…” And then I looked to my left and my right and saw many four-wheelers. I thought, “Why would frail seniors be going out on ATVs?” Hmm. Then I realized – wrong street, wrong house.
I drove up and down a few parallel streets until I found the large sign for the care Jelly Bean Happy Home – that didn’t have any slang words in it – and parked. Zina and I had another lovely visit. She is so appreciative of the care facility she is in, but so wants to go home. I get that completely – I love my Home Sweet Trailer. Though there is barely enough room here to swing a wheelchair.
She adored the story of Samuel Emmanuel. Said it brought tears to her eyes. “Oh no,” I thought. “I’m trying to brighten her day, not dampen it.” I think she could read my confused face, so she said, “Tears of joy, Jan.” Oh my. Who is providing pastoral care to whom?!
Back to the trailer to get things ready for having “snacks and chats” with friends.
Two lovely couples came over and we shared many stories and many laughs, But also some sadnesses. Our friends are ten-plus years older than we are and are beginning to experience health challenges – the natural wear and tear of having lived a generous and active life. I love my current life of exercise and volunteering and visiting, so much. I find myself mourning the end of it before it even happens.
And then I remember the UCW (United Church Women) of my home church back when we lived in Sudbury – All Peoples. Well into their 70s and 80s and even 90s, these ladies run Teas, volunteer with many good causes, and visit the lonely. In fact, at “roll call” you were asked to report on how many cards you had sent out and how many visits you had made.
Our most senior member and long-time organist, Irene (her real name!), has recently turned 100. She lives in an extended care facility and can no longer easily attend her beloved UCW meetings. Last I heard she is still making things for the teas, helping out with various activities at the facility, and having pastoral care visits with her fellow residents.
On a recent hike, I listened to a podcast about growing old. The documentary maker noted a study where people who suffered many afflictions of aging reported their quality of life, and this was compared to how their kids rated it. The old rated their lives as very happy; the kids rated their lives as rather miserable.
Most of the very old said they were ready to “go” anytime. But would then add something like, “But not tomorrow. My great granddaughter is coming to visit, and I wouldn’t want to miss that.” Or “But not this week. We’re having a guest speaker and I don’t want to miss him.” There was always something to look forward to.
Something to think about when giving your kids power of attorney. 😊
I was not born with a good sense of direction, however. More on that later.
I’m a pastoral care visitor for “Church of the Mother Hen” (not the real name) here in AZ. How did that come about? Three things happened. One, our pastor gave a sermon on the sheep and the goats. One of the sins of the bad goats is that they failed to visit the lonely and imprisoned. OK, being a Canadian, it might be hard for me to visit the imprisoned in the USA, but I could surely visit the lonely.
Two, my mom – Granny Marj – gave me full permission to go to AZ for six months of the year. Being 95, she could make an issue of it. But she doesn’t. If fact she insists Laur and I go while we still can. Says she, “Your Dad and I enjoyed our sixties, and you should too. Besides, what could you do that others can’t do?” True dat. And we can visit by phone, and we do. Three, I saw a sign on our church bulletin board – looking for volunteers for various areas, including pastoral care. Yee haw!
For whatever reason, whenever I volunteer to do something, I feel a need to perform a song and dance routine. I expect this is related to the years I spent applying for (and not getting) paying work in Sudbury. So, I write a cover letter and resume and include references. I offer to provide proof of my qualifications (pictures of degrees and certificates) and I offer to go for, and pay for, my own criminal records check.
Very sweet, the chair of the search committee kindly wrote me back and assured me I didn’t have to do an audition. Just show up for a meeting. I did. I was so excited! And what a wonderful group of caring people the care team is (which is as it should be, I guess.) I was given a list of four people the care team felt would like a visit. Yee haw! I was on this like beans on toast.
When I told my mom, we chuckled that when the four people heard who was going to be visiting them, they would claim to be instantly healed. Anything to avoid being visited by “Cathy Chatty” me. And I confess, I was a little sad (and a little suspicious) that all four of my people didn’t need to be visited because they were very busy with family and friends. Mind you, this was the Christmas season, so that does make sense. 😊
Next month, I struck gold. A new gal on the list welcomed visits in the Jelly Bean Happy Home (not the really name) she was staying at while her spouse was having surgery. I didn’t phone this time. I just showed up beaming - with a loot bag full of goodies including ginger ale, oatmeal cookies, a flower decorated pen, a word search, and a silly card. She didn’t dive under the bed when I arrived. (Granted, she does have limited mobility.) In fact, Zina (not her real name) was very glad to see me.
We had a lovely chat. We have more in common than not – including a great love of cats. I asked permission to visit her the following week and she readily agreed. I could not believe my good fortune. During the week I sent Zina a card with one of my favourite stories “Samuel Emmanuel – the cat who wandered into a church and became part of the pastoral care team. https://www.guideposts.org/friends-and-family/pets/cats/the-heaven-sent-tabby-cat
My second visit to Zina – I figured I could find her care home without a map. It was only a few blocks from me. I inconveniently forgot that the first time, I had had a detailed map, and it still took me a few tries to find the right road and the right house number. Off I went.
Bingo! Found the care home with no trouble at all. Pulled up in front of the house and was about to get out of the car when I noticed a sign with the words “B*tch Parking” in large letters. I thought to myself. “That’s odd for a senior’s facility…” And then I looked to my left and my right and saw many four-wheelers. I thought, “Why would frail seniors be going out on ATVs?” Hmm. Then I realized – wrong street, wrong house.
I drove up and down a few parallel streets until I found the large sign for the care Jelly Bean Happy Home – that didn’t have any slang words in it – and parked. Zina and I had another lovely visit. She is so appreciative of the care facility she is in, but so wants to go home. I get that completely – I love my Home Sweet Trailer. Though there is barely enough room here to swing a wheelchair.
She adored the story of Samuel Emmanuel. Said it brought tears to her eyes. “Oh no,” I thought. “I’m trying to brighten her day, not dampen it.” I think she could read my confused face, so she said, “Tears of joy, Jan.” Oh my. Who is providing pastoral care to whom?!
Back to the trailer to get things ready for having “snacks and chats” with friends.
Two lovely couples came over and we shared many stories and many laughs, But also some sadnesses. Our friends are ten-plus years older than we are and are beginning to experience health challenges – the natural wear and tear of having lived a generous and active life. I love my current life of exercise and volunteering and visiting, so much. I find myself mourning the end of it before it even happens.
And then I remember the UCW (United Church Women) of my home church back when we lived in Sudbury – All Peoples. Well into their 70s and 80s and even 90s, these ladies run Teas, volunteer with many good causes, and visit the lonely. In fact, at “roll call” you were asked to report on how many cards you had sent out and how many visits you had made.
Our most senior member and long-time organist, Irene (her real name!), has recently turned 100. She lives in an extended care facility and can no longer easily attend her beloved UCW meetings. Last I heard she is still making things for the teas, helping out with various activities at the facility, and having pastoral care visits with her fellow residents.
On a recent hike, I listened to a podcast about growing old. The documentary maker noted a study where people who suffered many afflictions of aging reported their quality of life, and this was compared to how their kids rated it. The old rated their lives as very happy; the kids rated their lives as rather miserable.
Most of the very old said they were ready to “go” anytime. But would then add something like, “But not tomorrow. My great granddaughter is coming to visit, and I wouldn’t want to miss that.” Or “But not this week. We’re having a guest speaker and I don’t want to miss him.” There was always something to look forward to.
Something to think about when giving your kids power of attorney. 😊