For a friend in hospice care

Death has become a more common part of life since we moved into our retirement community. That makes sense as all our neighbors are older. But being “common” doesn’t lead us to make friends with death. Death still jolts and stabs. And even though we believe in heaven and have the hope of reunion, our grief is real. The passing leaves a hole.

A good friend died just a few days ago and I’m still trying to settle my heart around that reality. Her passing did not surprise us. Janice had been struggling with cancer for several years, and earlier this year she and her husband decided to stop the chemo and try to live as fully and freely as they could with the time she had left. It was a good decision. The courageous way Brian and Janice faced death while choosing life has been a tremendous example to all of us.

But when she went on hospice care, we all knew that the time was drawing close. So we, her friends, tried to spend all the quality time we could with her. So much so that Brian eventually had to make a schedule permitting visits by two friends a day. (Family, of course, was there at all times.) In the last weeks, I got two of those scheduled visits. The last was on the day before Janice died. She was by now unconscious, but I sat by her side, read her a poem, and prayed with her. Brian, her sister, and a son were there, too. It was holy ground.

Following is the prayer/poem I wrote and read to my friend. It flows from images in the 23^rd Psalm, a passage that reflects God’s compassion and care for his children. A passage that shines a light of hope into the darkness, a light that ultimately vanquishes death.

 

Prayers for a Friend in Hospice Care

-1-
I hold you in my heart
which is a good place, my friend,
because Christ is in me,
the hope of glory.
You and Jesus are at home
in my heart, surrounded by glory.
Brian is there, too, of course.
Jesus has his arms around
you both. My prayers
blow in on a Spirit wind,
ruffle your hair, carry
the fragrance of hope.

Breathe in that fragrance, my friend.

-2-
What started out as the valley
of the shadow of death turns
out to be a glen in a redwood forest.
Morning light streams through the trunks,
floods the small space where you stand,
listening. The tall trees around you
are all at prayer.

-3-
I see a table in the forest, set
with beautiful dishes, real silver, and crystal
goblets. You and the people you most love
are seated, expectant, and, yes,
hungry. Soon the food appears.
The united chefs of The Red Lobster,
The Olive Garden and Tenderloin
seem to have collaborated, as angelically
gorgeous waiters carry in all
your favorite food. After a brief thankful
prayer, you dig in, conversation
temporarily suspended, though the sense
of companionship remains.

Somehow you all manage to ignore
the others, those peeking at you from around
the trunks of the surrounding trees
--pain, fear, death, defiance, defeat.
As your satisfaction and gratitude grow,
those others turn to mist, fade into the ground,
vanish. Soon all is light, all is beauty,
all is joy.

-4-
I ask the Lord to fill your cup with

Faith

in who he is, who he has always been
for you, who he promises to be in your future,
forever and ever, life without end.
Let faith light your way forward.

Hope

that all the faithfulness of the past
and all the promises for the future
shine here in this present moment.
Let hope’s light flood your being today.

Love

clearly revealed in the people
who surround you, who have become
God’s hands, arms, feet, and face.
May your love be released to bless
them back. To bless your Lord.
Let love’s light shine into
and out from your heart.

May your cup overflow. Faith. Hope. Love.

-5-

I see your friends, Goodness and Mercy,
sticking with you through the thick
of plenty and the thin of want.
They’re always there,
sometimes giggling, sometimes weeping,
sometimes running ahead
to hack a new path
through the brush,
sometimes walking alongside
to talk and laugh and wonder with you.
Often they follow close behind,
not always perceptible, but there
nonetheless.
They’ll be with you,
they tell me,
for the rest of your life.

-6-

And you will dwell
in the house of the Lord
forever.