California Dreamin 7

There was a time in history when a woman had to use some real ingenuity or creativity in order to achieve what they really wanted. Some would probably call it manipulation, but I don't!

There was once a woman, living in the late 1800's, in a far away country, who wanted to come to the United States, but her husband said no. He didn't want to leave his home country. The woman was disappointed, but didn't give up on her dream. She was the mother of 7 children, some of whom were approaching adulthood soon.

So, as her eldest son returned from WWI, she said, " Hugh, have you ever thought about what you want to do with your life?" He answered his mother, "Well, I guess work in the shipyards, like dad." She responded, "If I were a young man starting out, I think I would go to the United States." He thought about it for a few months, and eventually decided he would go to the US. He told his fiance, he would be there for a short time, work and earn enough money to send for her, which he did. He arrived at Ellis Island, and stayed with an aunt and uncle. His aunt and uncle said, "Do you know where in the US you would like to settle?" He said he wasn't sure. They said, "If I were a young man starting out, I would go to California, that is where all the new opportunities are." Soon after, he left for California. He worked hard for a year, and saved his money. Soon after, he sent for Sarah, to be escorted over by one of his brothers. They married in LA and settled down.

Hugh and Sam then worked and saved, and one by one brought all of their siblings over to the United States. Their mother then said to her husband, "All of our children are now in the US. What are we doing staying here?" The next 40 years or more, they lived in the United States with all their children and grandchildren around them.

Now, that's what I call a very smart woman!

What is it about our heritage, that is so important to defining who we are, in ways that are so innate that we cannot even pinpoint specifics until we go to the country where our ancestors came from, and feel a sense of "coming home" that is so strong, and yet so nebulous? My dad's side of our family came from Northern Ireland. The men were all finish carpenters/ cabinet makers. My great great grandfather worked in all of the old manor houses of England. My great grandfather worked in the shipyards of Belfast, and we learned a few years ago, that he did the internal woodwork on the Titanic. My grandfather and his brothers also worked in the shipyards of Belfast. My grandfather was the first of his family to immigrate to the US, through Ellis Island. He eventually began working for an interior designer in the Los Angeles area, and made custom furniture for many of the prominant movie stars. My parents' whole house is filled with his furniture, which will eventually be mine to pass on down to my son and his family. All cherished possessions.

But I am also a Scotch Irish Presbyterian. And I never quite understood quite how imbedded that is until my parents took my son and I to Northern Ireland this last summer. Just spending time with my cousins, driving around the countryside, driving by the home where my grandmother was born, and see it still standing, painted in yellow just like their home in LA that I remember; it made me have this strong sense of "being home" in ways that are hard to articulate, but it was there. Also, driving around Northern Ireland with Presbyterian Churches in every small town, and yet these are Presbyterian Churches who will not ordain women., reminding me that this is where I am from, but not sure whether I could live there;the romanticized dreams would cause a rude awakening, when I would be confronted of the the Reading the history of Northern Ireland, and learning of all of the Scotch Irish Presbyterians who were part of the formation of the United States.

So this year, for Christmas, as I thought of what to give my parents, especially my dad, I felt like it needed to be something of meaning, and definitely more than just a shirt, or sweater, or tie! So, a placque is being made with my grandfather's name and Northern Ireland on it, to be placed on the Memorial Wall at Ellis Island. A certificate with his name, place of origin, name of ship and date of arrival will be placed in our home, somewhere near the furniture grandpa made, and in this home where the past is meeting the future, carrying with us the parts of our history, our story, with a few steps farther into the future. . .

His name is Bo. Bo is Chinese and is an amazing young man, in any terms. When Bo was about 10, he was hit by a train, and lost his left arm below the elbow, and his whole left leg. He has never let that hold him back. He came to the US about 5 years ago in order to receive prosthetics to enable his life to be easier. But when this 10 year old boy got on the airplane that day, he boarded a plane he not only had never ridden, but one he had never seen. He boarded that plane with 11 people he didn't really know, and left his parents, brother and everything he ever knew. His adoptive mother asked him one day how he had the courage to leave everything he knew, and his response was a simple response of faith of a child. He said, "The Lord gave me a vision of a woman from the west who would come to save me. When I saw you, I knew you were her."

This young man has endured painful surgeries, to extend his bone in order to fit the prosthetic leg. He has endured painful infections, that left him sweating, but he never complained. He has simultaneously had the fun loving shenanegans of a child, and the seriousness and maturity of someone far older than himself. One day during the coffee hour at his church, I found Bo riding his wheelchair at the top speeds down the handicapped ramp, coming down from the sanctuary. When it was suggested to him that he could really get hurt doing that, he just smiled. I am sure as soon as I turned my back to leave him, he took one more ride. Who needs Disneyland?

Oh and speaking of Disneyland, my son and I took Bo and his adoptive mom to Disneyland. Because they are not from LA, I drove us there. Unbeknownst to me, Bo was watching my speedometer on the trip down. He was overheard telling one of his friends, "Pastor Sue was going 80 on the freeway. She had to get us to Disneyland FAST!" You have to love him!

As an 8th grader, a little over a year ago, Bo was given a special award for academics. It was the highest academic award for all of the Junior Highers in the community where he lives. He wanted so desperately to walk down on his new leg to accept the award, but was not able to because it was too painful. He went down on crutches, with great pride and great humility. He walked down the aisle as the whole auditorium stood in applause. Peers and parents, teachers, administrators, and community representatives. Throughout all of these surgeries, challenges, and even learning a second language, this young man has always had straight A's. He is aiming for MIT for college.

I had the honor to be this young man's Associate Pastor, and now our families are family to each other. I consider it an amazing honor to know him, and I just sit with great expectation to see what the Lord will do in and with this young man. I have a feeling we will all be reading about him in the years to come. You go Bo!

His life has been tragic. Filled with lost hopes, unfulfilled dreams, and very little love experienced, and now he is dying. In and out of mental hospitals, no defined faith because his family never really practiced. His brother feels bad about the life his brother has had, and in his own way he has tried to do the best he could to make it as easy as possible. I would imagine he has felt helpless.

Tonight, Stephen is dying. He is wide awake and aware of the fact that he's dying. His brother came to see him and stayed for awhile, but then not knowing what to do, he left, to go home and have a glass of wine with his wife. He says he will come back tomorrow IF he's still with us. So, in his helplessness, he has left his brother alone, grateful that the hospice staff is there, to do what he is unable to do.

So his nurse sat at his bedside, quietly watching him, and being attentive to whatever he might need. She said, "He has been alone his entire life. He is not going to die alone. " As his chaplain, I spoke words to him of blessing and assurance that God does love him, even if he had never realized it, and encourged him to reach out for God.

Is it possible to feel so empty for someone, and yet so full for your own life? I think so. Even with the failures, pain and disappointments in my own life, I am rich, with a family that not only loves me but shows it to me in tangible ways. I have a wonderful circle of friends, a calling on my life that gives me fulfillment, and also hope.

May the Lord bless you and keep you,
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you.
May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Be at peace, Stephen. A peace that passes all understanding and a peace you have never felt before.

There once was a brother and sister who were 4 and 5 when their mother left them. They were the youngest in their family and had 1/2 brothers and sisters. Their dad married again, to a woman who was not very loving to these children. Eventually, that relationship also didn't last and this time Dad left. But dad left these children with a stepmom who didn't love them, and who treated them horribly.

The boy grew up and went to Vietnam, probably to get away from home; scared, confused, and intensely angry, which was the beginning of 35+ years of alcohol anddrugs. Maybe it was to numb the pain, or maybe to avoid the truth of his life. He died tonight. With a sister, a half sister and some friends from work surrounding him. They told him of their love for him. They told him that it was o.k. to go, to a place where he could be at peace, and have no more pain. He tried to speak back to them. Although his words could not be understood, his attempts were so sweet. He received the sacrament of the sick, and ashes for Ash Wednesday. He died with a kind of smile. Somehow the anger had dissipated, at least a little.

Once there was a young man, a new creation. He has arrived in a new and different place. It is strange, because he has no semblance of fear, anger, sadness, pain, abandonment, or confusion. He is surrounded by love, welcomed and doted upon; his mere presence is celebrated. He has clarity of thought, he has a happiness unlike anything he has ever known. And he wonders what he was ever so afraid of. He has a kind of smile. It's a smile of peace.

First of all, I am back after a long hiatus. One of my DPS friends challenged me and so I got on the stick. Thanks, OMG.

So, lately has been challenging at work. Our management is rather chaotic, and everyone on the team are doing 3 jobs at once, thus doing none of them well. Today, I was going to do an inservice on Death and Dying for the staff of a facility over an hour from our office.I set out and hit massive traffic. . . it is LA afterall! I had given myself enough time to get there, but also had times where I was sitting still on the "Freeway." I call the facility to let them know I am going to be about 15 minutes late, and was informed that we weren't scheduled for another couple of weeks. She had another group there who had already begun another inservice. At the time I was 1 and 1/2 hours into the trip, and 15 minutes away from the destination. I am not sure whether the staff development director double scheduled herself, or whether our marketing people messed up, or a combo of both, but I was really mad. So I fussed and fumed and vented to a friend, and went home to do some paperwork, not being in a frame of mind to be pastoral.

But then, when I arrived home, and vented a bit more, I called a friend whose father was dying to see how they were all doing. I spoke to Pete who told me about his dad's death, and how peaceful it was, but more than that, were his other comments to me helped me to get things in the right perspective.

You see years ago, when I was first beginning in Hospital Chaplaincy, Pete and his family lived across the street from me. I was in my last year of seminary, and I would often go over to visit and discuss life with Pete and Sue. One day, Sue called me and asked me if I could come over to talk to Pete. His best friend had died in his arms. I was finishing a term paper that was due the next day. I wrestled with what to do, and decided that if I ever let a term paper overrule the need of a brother or sister, that I should give up ministry now. I went and spent about 5 hours, that moved as if we were in some kind of a time machine. It was a profound time for all of us, discussing faith, life, death and dying, grief, . . .

Well the years passed and we have both moved, and keep in touch through Christmas letters and occasional phone calls. One of which was last night, when I called to say hello and learned Pete's father was dying, and that Pete had actually almost died last year, and went through this amazing renewal of faith. So Pete says, " I cannot tell you how much it amazes me that you were the only one there for me when my best friend died. And now, we haven't talked for so long and yet you call, when my dad is dying." He went on to express love and appreciation, and told me he had so much to share. We committed to get together soon for one of our soul talks that happens once every 15 years or so!

But suddenly, perspective came back, that the little pieces of life and work that bring annoyances; the traffic jams and spending 2 1/2 hours in the LA traffic for no purpose, the management team that is fragmented, etc. doesn't hold a candle to having been able to touch another's soul. So, I am grateful.

Lest anyone worry about the youth of today and how they are going to turn out, let me assure you, that there are at least two 11 year old boys with good heads on their shoulders. While on our way for a weekend at our cabin in the mountains, my son and his friend began talking about the things that were important to them. Since sports are their passion, they began talking about the values held by so many of the professional athletes that somehow 89 million over 5 years isn't enough.

But then my son's friend began to tell the story of a little boy in his class at school, that made this whole "Money is everything" perspective more personal. It seems that the boy in his class comes from one of the wealthiest families in our community, but his parents are never at the school for his special events, because they are always working. One of the projects for his class was to make a family crest. This rich young boy did the assignment, but his parents were the only parents in the room that couldn't recognize their own son's family crest. I had a deep sadness for that boy, and for his parents, and the lonliness they must feel. Maybe a lonliness that they don't even recognize yet. But then my son's friend said: "I would rather live in a cardboard box and know that I have a loving family around me, than to have all the money in the world." I told my son's friend to remember that lesson, because it would most likely become one of the most important lessons of his life.

The Rich Young Ruler asked Jesus, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" And Jesus asked him to go out and sell all he has and give it to the poor." The rich young ruler walked away sad, because he was very wealthy." Jesus said, "How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God." Luke 18