Thursday, 22 October 2015

Bound for Heaven: No More Tears



You need to read this story all the way to the end! I wrote this almost 18 years ago. Wow, what a powerful memory! I needed to be reminded of how God works within our weaknesses and inadequacies. I also needed to be reminded how not to believe the lies that so easily discourage us from continuing on.



Thelma Daisy Jean Dillon 


I knew something wasn’t quite right the minute I stepped off the elevator. Thelma wasn’t in her usual spot. She always had her wheelchair placed beside the elevator where all the action was. Worry began to creep in. During two years of visiting, I had not once seen Thelma absent from her accustomed spot. Being away for three weeks on holidays only added to my sense of foreboding.

I started visiting the nursing home when my son was four months old. He had been an instant hit! Everyone fell in love with little Rafael – Raffi for short. Some days I felt over-whelmed by the sea of hands reaching out to cradle him. However, baby Raffi seemed made for this special task – he thrived on all the affection.
Thelma also thrived on the affection Raffi so effortlessly reciprocated. Every week I delighted in watching how her eyes would light up at his presence. “Oh, what a darling,” she would coo. “What a sweetheart!”
 
As a toddler, Raffi still drew the crowds. I would just sit back and play second fiddle. Thelma, peering through her thick glasses, was the first to lavish him with complements.
“Oh, my, what a handsome boy,” she said, while leaning on her cane. “Look at those beautiful blue eyes. He’s going to be a lady’s man when he grows up.”  Thelma always gave a knowing wink.
Then there would be games of Pat-a-Cake and nursery rhymes to recite. When it was time to go, Raffi would wave good-bye to “Grandma Thelma” – a title we reserved for no one else at the nursing home. Everyone else was Auntie.

As a new Christian I had felt a strong calling to visit the elderly. The Lord had placed love and compassion in my heart for these precious people who faced constant health battles along with the boredom that comes with institutionalized living. The staff certainly does their best, but some of the residents just don’t have families to visit them. Babies and young children at the nursing home are like a breath of fresh air.
What I hadn’t counted on was the pain of losing dear friends. But out of that pain the Lord had some valuable lessons for me to learn.
 No, Thelma wasn’t in her chair by the elevator that day. The other ladies had their regular time with Raffi. Then off I went to the TV room.
 No Thelma.
 I went to her room.
 No Thelma.
 I peered up at the name written above the bed. That wasn’t Thelma’s name!  It was some one else’s name!
One of the staff members in the room noticed my distracted state. “If you’re looking for Thelma, she passed away on Saturday.”

I just stared back in disbelief. It hadn’t registered.Then I became angry because the worker seemed to be smiling at me condescendingly. I imagined her thinking, “Oh what a naive person you are. The names on the bed change all the time. Soon you will get used to it.” 
Not knowing what else to do, I wheeled the stroller out to the elevator. Then on impulse, I went back to the nurses’ station. We spent some time talking about Thelma. She had been everyone’s sweetheart. The head nurse tried to hold back the tears that were starting to overflow. “We will really miss her,” she said. “You become so attached to them.”

Then I wondered if I was in so much pain, how the staff managed to cope. I only visited once a week for a couple of hours. Many of the staff would be there eight hours a day, five days a week. 
 “Yes, we will miss her,” the head nurse continued, wiping the tears away. A short moment of silence was suddenly broken.
“Thelma Daisy Jean Dillon.” 
The words rang out with a profound sense of finality. The head nurse had just paid tribute to Thelma with a final declaration of her full name. Thelma was not just another patient. Not just another room number. Thelma had been a person who had been loved. The nurse then went back to work with all traces of emotion gone.


 With no funeral to attend I guess I needed a sense of closure. At home I spent some time grieving. At one point I grew depressed. How could I keep on visiting the nursing home? All these people I was becoming attached to were on the brink of entering death’s door. Seeing the hearses coming and going didn’t help either. Once I even held the door open for two funeral attendants pushing a gurney.

But the Lord began to comfort me. I was also filled with a sense of awe and reverence as the full impact of my very last visit with Thelma began to sink in. There had been several instances when I doubted the good of my visits. My mind would wander something like this: “Oh, I’m not doing much of anything here. What is the point of being here? I’m not leading anyone to Christ. I might as well just quit.”
  
As a new Christian I guess I had grandiose visions of leading flocks of people to Christ on enthusiasm alone. An entire visit at the nursing home would pass and there wouldn’t even be any mention of Christ. Oh I had heard the bible scriptures on resting in the Lord and on being an empty vessel to be used by the Lord, but I guess I was still striving and not resting. Sometimes it takes the heart a bit longer to catch up with what the mind knows.


“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith,  -- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so no one can boast.” 
 Ephesians 2:8-9.
I had read this verse many times but had not understood its full meaning. That “still small voice” broke through all the lies. “If all I asked of you was to offer comfort, shouldn’t that be enough?” The Holy Spirit was starting to convict me. Full of repentance, I cried out to the Lord, “Show me how then!”

Giving comfort didn’t come naturally to me. Hugging people that were not in my family seemed distasteful. But the Lord was faithful and He did show me the very next day. The last day I ever saw Thelma.


 It was a blue day in the nursing home. Everyone seemed to be weeping! Two ladies began a cat-fight. One was left with wounded pride and tears. Awkwardly I put my arms around her and gave her a big hug. To my surprise, she stopped crying and came back for another one! “Hey, I can do this!” I thought. God was helping me. I had asked for help, and He gave it to me!
 I later found Thelma, sobbing to herself. Gone was her joy and spark for life. I guess she knew it was her time to go, even though I didn’t know. I just thought she was feeling sad. Even so, my soul felt the depths of her pain, sorrow and despair. I held her and rocked her and comforted her. She just kept crying and did not even notice little Raffi sitting there. I asked the Lord for some words of wisdom, because I felt so inadequate in the face of her suffering.

“Do you believe in God?” I asked. She nodded yes.
“Do you believe in Jesus?” I asked gently. She nodded yes again.
“Have you asked for forgiveness of your sins?” Once again she nodded yes, unable to speak because of her tears.
 Her eyes expressed the agony of tiredness, pain, defeat and depression. These sobs were the deep heavings of a life at the end of its journey.
So I told her about a much better place where there is no more tears, no more pain, no more suffering and no more sadness.The bible tells us in Revelation 21:3-4:

 “Now the dwelling of God is with men and He will live with them. They will be His people and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
  
For the first time I saw Thelma’s eyes light up. A flicker of hope kindled in her despair. A bit of joy replaced the sadness. Thelma spoke for the first time. “I can hardly wait,” she whispered. “I can hardly wait!” I gave her a tissue and she blew her nose. Then she played a little with Raffi. That was the last time I saw Thelma Daisy Jean Dillon.


I left feeling encouraged that the Lord had listened to my prayer and had taught me how to offer comfort.  Three weeks later after our family vacation, I discovered Thelma’s name missing and learned of her death. The full significance of my last visit with Thelma dawned on me in my grief. The Lord had used me to comfort one of His own on their final journey to be with Him.  I thought of this verse:

 “Let us not weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.”
 Galatians 6:9,10.

I was humbled. Ever so humbled. Never again would I look down on my visits. There is a time and place for spreading the gospel, but there is also a time and place when hugs are enough. I know now that God can use broken vessels that are not perfect. I also know that spreading the gospel does not necessarily have to be words. Actions speak louder than words.  I no longer strive so hard. I do my best to follow in Jesus’ example, trusting that God will let me know when someone is in need.
And one day I will be in that same place with Thelma Daisy Jean Dillon where there is no more tears, no more pain, no more suffering and no more sadness. 
© Tavane Nelson, Dec 1997.





Venice,  Florida 2014 trip.
 

During that time of volunteering at a seniors home, I was so excited, that I printed off brochures to hand out to people in case they were interested in bringing babies to visit seniors. I've also been with groups that bring their pets as well, which was a big hit. Here it is below:



If you have a heart for seniors and have a baby perhaps this is an opportunity for you to work in the mercy field.
 
NURSING HOME VISITING 

Of course there are always seniors in nursing homes who can't get out and love to have visitors, especially during the day, regardless of whether you have children are not.

After visiting with my baby at the Hilltop Manor, I have discovered that no one else in the city is doing this. (Or none that I have heard of).  I feel this is a wonderful opportunity for those interested in volunteering their time. There is a definite need here.  There are also many Portuguese seniors who can't understand English.  I wish I could speak to them! 

POSITIVES: 
Everyone loves a baby!  Everyone wants to reach out and hold the baby. Babies are especially good therapy for those who are bed-ridden, catatonic, or suffering from Alzheimer or dementia. A baby will get a smile or response out of those who don't normally respond at all to any stimuli. 

No organization is necessary. Just call up whatever nursing home is closest to you to see if they are interested in having you. Fill out a volunteer sheet, get a police check and you're on your way.

Can be tailored to meet your needs. Volunteer what days or times you want. I find two hours works best to make the rounds of each floor. If the baby is bad, you can leave when you like. If you have to change a diaper or breast feed, there's staff and senior's lounges all over the place.

Older babies have short attention spans and so do seniors. Many of the seniors only need a one minute visit -- that is enough to keep everyone happy!  My longest visit lasts five to 10 minutes. If you have a busy schedule (like most of us) visiting seniors is easy to schedule. You can visit one or twenty.

Friendships develop. Those seniors who don't need chronic care have much wisdom and friendship to offer.  This is an opportunity to offer comfort and love. 

NEGATIVES: 

Some seniors love to handle the babies. I give them free reign! Some people might be more apprehensive. Be a good judge. I support the baby's weight or have them sitting. 

Bugs and viruses. There's always the chance of picking up something in an institutionalized setting. But so far we haven't  caught anything!

Monday, 20 July 2015

Ode To Stuff





ODE TO STUFF:

Oh Stuff, how I hate thee, let me count the ways
Thou hast swallowed me whole, I don’t want thee anymore
I can’t breathe and thy existence wastes all my days
I can’t move: thou hast surrounded me
I see thee from lofty heights, down into the valleys and to the depths of the seas

I suffer from thine presence, from whence can I hide from thee?
Thou dost stalk me in my sanctuary, and keep me from my one true love
I try my utmost to keep thee at bay, but thou dost latch on to others
Oh Stuff, thou art a parasite!
I beseech thee to have mercy! Break the bonds that entangle and entwine!

Thou harlot! Offering false love that leaves me empty and hollow
Oh Stuff how I hate thy skulking and slinking from room to room
Thy trickery and deceit is draining; thou dost hide for days then flaunt thy self-importance
Oh Stuff, thou have grown fat and useless!
 The sheer agony of what to do with thee! Shall I send thee away? Shall I banish thee?

Oh Stuff, how I hate thee, let me count the ways
I have untold tales of betrayal, and truths too dark to reveal
There has been unwanton lust betwixt us and I have broken, hurt and used thee
So now I cast thee from my life
Thy seduction and allure bring only loathing. Henceforth our paths will cross no more.


© Tavane Nelson, July 17, 2015

STUFF



Stuff:

It suffocates me.
I don’t want any more stuff. It swallows me whole.
I can’t breathe anymore.
Please, take all my stuff. I can’t move.
Look at all the stuff. Look at the mountains. Look in the seas, look at the “E” stuff.

I want to be free. Of these things.
That suffocate me.
How much do I need?
I get rid of my stuff.

Boomerang.

It comes back inside, somehow.  Funnels back through others.
 It’s creeping back here and there and there and there.
Times four.

I hate stuff. It owns me.
 My time and my energy.
I move my stuff from one place to another.
I buy stuff for others.
I organize my stuff.
I agonize over my stuff.
I store my stuff.
I pour over my stuff.
I break my stuff.
I fix my stuff.
I clean my stuff.
I forget about some of my stuff.
I stumble upon old forgotten stuff.
I search for stuff,
Even stuff I already gave away.
I buy new stuff to replace the old.
I buy useless stuff.
I throw stuff out.
I recycle stuff.
I give stuff away.
I buy the stuff I gave away
And on it goes…..

Deep down do I really hate stuff?

Show me Lord, how to make peace with stuff.

© Tavane Nelson, July 17 2015


As I get older, getting rid of stuff seems to preoccupy much of my time. With three grown children still at home and a household total of five, I’ve started to hate stuff so much, that one poem wasn’t enough! I had to write two of them, to get it out of my system.



I believe the first part of life as an adult is about gathering. The last part of life is about purging. The problem is, I can’t seem to get to the purging because as soon as I empty one closet, it’s filled back up within a week. I think I could happily live a minimalist’s life if I could. A few years back, I went on a trip to Cuba. We could learn a few things about recycling from the Cubans! With the US trade embargoes, Cuban citizens are the masters of making do with little, and making what they do have last a long time.  For example, almost all of the vehicles are from the 1950’s era. The Cubans take loving care of those vehicles, constantly fixing, and repainting, because there are no other options. This Cuban farmer was so proud of his truck, that it was part of his farm tour for the tourists.




I watched a newscast on how our electronic waste was being shipped to third world countries, and I was devastated. Three years ago, I owned a Blackberry that went kaput. I took it to get repaired, and they told me it was cheaper to get a new one. It was only two years old! I went on the internet, and two hours later repaired the faulty antenna by taking the back off and following the instructions using a teeny tiny screwdriver.

Same story with my dishwasher. My husband told me to get a new one as it had stopped working, and the repair charge was astronomical. After searching the internet on how to fix a dishwasher that won’t drain, I found the answer. There was water in the bottom pan that had triggered a sensor to prevent drainage. After unscrewing all the panels, and mopping up the water, voila! Three years later the dishwasher is still going strong.

Of course, it’s human nature to sound all high and mighty, and I’m sure if all my stuff was gone, I wouldn’t be able to live without a lot of it. Oh well, I can at least try to simplify my life. My grandmother pretty much gave all her stuff away in her old age. I hope I can be at that point sooner than later. The older I become, the more I feel like an alien living on this earth, because I know my permanent home is in Heaven where Jesus has prepared a room for me. I need to keep my eyes focused on those things that have eternal value and stuff just gets in the way.

Do Not Love The World:


Do not love the world or anything in the world.1 If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world--the cravings of sinful man,3 the lust of his eyes4 and the boasting of what he has and does-- comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away,5 but the man who does the will of God6 lives forever.



1 John 2:15 – 17.