The Holy Week, Hamilton, Hospice Compilation...

Friends... indulge me, you know I get hyperfocused on certain ideas. Or ignore me, this thread may not be your jam. All good.

Holy Week is precious to me. Having been born on Good Friday and believing deeply in the message of Easter, I love Holy Week. Even if you don't share my faith, I think there are powerful and universal lessons in Holy Week.

"Hamilton" is beyond entertaining to me. It is a masterful show and score that also represents certain themes that I hold dear and believe in deeply.

Hospice is my passion and the level of healthcare where I have learned the most as a nurse and a person.

Holy Week, Hamilton, Hospice... a four day thread....

Today is "Maundy Thursday" or "Holy Thursday". The day of the Last Supper with Jesus and his disciples. IF you want pure biblical knowledge, this isn't the Facebook page for you. BUT, if you want to know what strikes me about this day and how I experience it in "Hamilton" and in hospice care, let me explain.

I have always believed that one of the most precious gifts that hospice can provide is allowing loved ones time (sometimes quick) to say goodbye. To complete life's work. To prepare.

At the Last Supper, Jesus was trying to say goodbye to his disciples. He knew the fate that awaited him. So he brought his precious friends together and shared a special meal.

"Maundy" is from the Latin word "to command" and Jesus commanded his dinner companions the thing he most wanted them to carry on: "Love one another as I have loved you" Jesus knew in the coming days there would be a lot of noise in his disciples heads but this command had to be clearly said and purposefully delivered.

In "Hamilton", one of the most poignant scenes and powerful songs (IMHO) is when George Washington tells a disbelieving Alexander Hamilton that he is not running for re-election. In the song "One Last Time" George Washington 'commands' Hamilton to write Washington's farewell to the nation that he helped create. At first, Hamilton, like Christ's disciples, rejects any notion of the beloved leader stepping away from their role but Washington, like Christ, stands firm on his purpose to step away and allow the created legacy to carry on without him.

For my two cents from experience, goodbyes matter. Even though they are sad.

"If I say goodbye, the nation learns to move on,

It outlives me when I'm gone..."

"Love one another as I have loved you"

Holy Week, Hamilton, Hospice... more to come...

Welcome to Day 2 of Holy Week, Hamilton and Hospice (aka: my strange fascination)... Today is Good Friday, the day Christians commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. (Today is also first day of Passover- blessings to all who celebrate).

Good Friday is arguably the saddest day of the Christian calendar, it's really only palatable now because we have the luxury of knowing Easter will come on Sunday. On the day of the crucifixion, that was not known, and the pain of the loss for those that loved and followed Jesus was unimaginable.

"There are moments that the words don't reach,

There is suffering too terrible to name

You hold your child as tight as you can

And push away the unimaginable..."

"It's Quiet Uptown" is undoubtedly the most haunting song in the "Hamilton" score, as it is what plays after Hamilton's son is killed in a duel. I've only seen "Hamilton" performed live once but I can tell you the audience is breathless and silent as the bereaved sing their pain.

A child killed. A man crucified. Unimaginable.

Many of the families I came to know as a hospice nurse, that allowed me to be a part of a very sacred journey with their loved one were going through the unimaginable. I've had the privilege of being at the bedside for several deaths but I can tell you that the last breath isn't typically the moment that is the most devastating. It is the finality of the moment the body leaves the home or facility and is covered or wrapped for the last time that is.. unimaginable.

"There are moments that the words don't reach

There's a grace too powerful to name

We push away what we can never understand

We push away the unimaginable.."

In "Hamilton" it is only when Eliza takes Alexander's hand that we feel a modicum of peace because we know by that action they will grieve together. On the day of Jesus's crucifixion "standing by the cross of Jesus were His mother, and His mother's sister and Mary Magladene" (John 19:25)

So maybe the Good Friday lesson of Hamilton, Holy Week and Hospice is the most simple- in the moments of the unimaginable, pull together. Hospice professionals know with certainty the importance of presence in those moments of greatest difficulty. Grief, in all its iterations, before Hope can be restored, can be so isolating. Let's try- maybe?- to make it less so..

Day 3 of Holy Week, Hamilton and Hospice.. (my strange fascination). Thanks to everyone for the kind words on the past two posts- seems like Jesus and show tunes has a bit more resonance that I might have realized!

Today is Holy Saturday, the day in between, the one in which we are held in pensive suspense. I have said before I think Holy Saturday is where we live, holding space between hope lost and hope restored. I don't know a living soul who cannot reflect on at least one period in their life where they were in between the "holy shit, what just happened?" and "you know, I think I am going to be ok" and just managed to put one foot in front of the other.

I wasn't sure which song from "Hamilton" I felt best delivered the message and feeling of Holy Saturday, and then it became obvious. "Wait for It" (yes, that's really it, "wait for it" ) Lin Manuel Miranda has said it may be the song he is proudest of and when performed live, it packs a wallop. Sung by Aaron Burr, the misunderstood everyman of the story, "Wait for it" is a lament about endurance.

"Death doesn't discriminate

Between the sinners and the saints

It takes and it takes and it takes

And we keep living anyway

We rise and we fall and we break

And we make our mistakes

And if there's a reason I'm still alive

When everyone who loves me has died

I'm willing to wait for it (Wait for it)

I'm willing to wait for it..."

Look around (see what I did there, Hamiltonians), suffering is indiscrimnate. Illness and misfortune can be indiscriminate. Grief and loss are universal. "And we keep living anyway, we rise and we fall and we break.."

The brand of the original Holy Saturday is marked by quiet waiting or pregnant expectation and yet I believe the Holy Saturday is the hallmark of endurance and survival.

As a hospice nurse, people always ask me "how do you do it?" I have never known quite how to answer that because I am not really sure why I chose this and love it so much. I am sure, however, that I do it because it matters to the people that need the help and if they can endure their present circumstance of illness or impending loss then I can be present for that. In fact, I really can't imagine not.

One of my dearest patients is living in Holy Saturday and has been for a few months now. The things in her life that made her unique and gave her joy are mostly gone, but she is still here. She is a faithful believer is Jesus and is more than ready to go to Heaven, but for right now, we have to "wait for it.." Waiting for it defines faith in its most essential way.

Peace. See you tomorrow.

The grand finale to Holy Week, Hamilton and Hospice- more "H's"... He is RISEN! Happy Easter!! Hope restored!!!

Easter Sunday, the stunning conclusion to the greatest story ever told. The song choice for this last entry is probably pretty obvious, "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story"

"And when you're gone, who remembers your name?

Who keeps your flame?

Who tells your story?

Who tells your story?

Who tells your story?"

There are A LOT of messages to unpack in "He is not here: For he is risen" (Matthew 28:6) and I could go on all day about the beauty and power of the resurrection, but the final song in "Hamilton" does such a beautiful job representing something my hospice experience taught me well and that is the importance of legacy.

One of the reasons I believe hospice care is so important when done well is a peaceful death, while sad, allows a family to grieve the life that was lost and not just the way it was lost. I have unfortunately been present in ICUs and ERs for sudden deaths, catastrophic deaths where families had to observe what no one should have to: suffering. When I became attracted to hospice work, I was very clear in my conviction that if I couldn't change the outcome of a person's illness, I could sure as shit work to make sure the experience was a peaceful one. It didn't always work, but the effort was always there.

Hamilton was shot, that was not a peaceful death. Christ was crucified and probably nothing could be worse, so this analogy may fall short on their experiences, but my point still carries validity. Hamilton's wife worked to tell his story so his legacy would be about what he did for our country and not how he died.

And Jesus, well that's a legacy like no other. We mourned his crucifixion but we celebrate his resurrection and we, as Christians, strive to live by His example.

"You could have done so much more if you only had time

And when my time is up, have I done enough?

Will they tell your story?"

Eliza explains that in Hamilton's memory she opened the first private orphanage in New York City. "In their eyes I see you, Alexander". Families who have lost someone dear go on and point out who got their Dad's crooked smile or will make the only edible fruitcake every year from their Mother's recipe. Others may become galvanized to raise funds to fight the disease that took their loved one or awareness about end of life care planning. And today the followers of Jesus may have donned their best bonnet, gone to hear the choirs sing or they may just find a way to love their neighbor, as they were commanded to do.

This "series" has reminded me, at least, how much goodbyes matter, how sad and lonely loss can feel, how much we need the stubborn determination of Holy Saturday and how important it is to celebrate lives well lived. To tell their story.

"I can't wait to see you again,

It's only a matter of time..."

Love y'all!

Good byes and Good Friday

I was born on Good Friday.

In 1971, Good Friday fell on April 9th, which was the day I was born.  For this reason, even before I understood the beauty and the message of the Easter season, I was intrigued by Good Friday. And by the time I was 13 or 14, I finally stopped making the joke, “you know why they call Good Friday good? ‘Cause I was born on that day”.

Yup. I was hilarious.

But even when the laughter died, I still asked myself what makes Good Friday good? It’s like the saddest day ever, right? Taken at face value, it is the remembrance of Christ’s crucifixion and death- not even remotely ‘good’. More like Horrible Friday!

(Disclaimer: I am aware that theologians have long explained the assignment of the name Good Friday. I am also aware that no one reads this blog for theology- or even facts, for that matter.)

Driving around seeing patients today, I was thinking a lot about Good Friday and Easter and all that its message does to restore me. The rain, and the acute sicknesses of todays’ patients, however, had put me in quite the Good Friday funk. Looking for a perk, I scanned Spotify and put on John Denver’s “Sunshine on My Shoulder”- an all time favorite that makes me feel warm. After singing along loudly, the playlist moved on to another John Denver classic, “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” (Also famously sung by Peter, Paul, and Mary...coincidence, I think not!)

“Leaving on a Jet Plane” is one of those songs that will send tears to my eyes and put an immediate lump in my throat after just the first few bars. Ever since it was popular when I was very young, and up until now, I can sing all the words but it will always ALWAYS make me sad.

When I was growing up, my beloved grandparents lived in Arizona and we only got to see them twice per year. “Gummy and Pop-pop” would fly east to visit us at Christmastime and the four Lanes would travel west to visit their home for April break. Gummy and Pop-pop were the absolute best- loving, giving, fun- and they would, bless their hearts, turn themselves inside out for our visits. It was my ABSOLUTE favorite time of year. From the moment we landed at Sky Harbor in Phoenix and Katie and I would SPRINT off the jetway to tackle them with hugs, I would have a permanent smile on my face for the entire visit. I can not remember ever being happier than I was on those trips.

My smile would, however, immediately and dramatically disappear on departure day. The routine included getting out the suitcases, packing our airplane “fun bags”, stripping the sheets and cleaning up the bathroom as Gummy insisted we not bother. Mom would make sure Katie and I were dressed in appropriate “flying outfits” (my how times have changed) and Gummy would spray one of our stuffed animals with her “Youth Dew” perfume so we could drink in her scent during our months apart. And through this entire routine, I would be battling to not cry. I hated- absolutely HATED- leaving Gummy and Pop-pop’s house.

Inevitably, every year, I would lose the battle to not cry just as we would get close to the airport. Big tears would start to spill over as my Dad would double check his sport coat for our boarding passes. In those days, anyone could go right up to the gate, which Gummy and Pop would, of course, do and they would even wait until the plane took off so they could wave through the window. And I would cry and cry. Not a “waaah waaah waaah” kind of cry like a baby, just a silent and sad hiccuppy cry that usually subsided somewhere over New Mexico.

So I am not sure if “Leaving on a Jet Plane” would play on the car radio in my grandparents’ Tornado (tore-nah-dough) or the Jet plane part reminded me of the annual Phoenix back to Newark flight, but the melancholy song is still an arrow through my forty-eight year old heart.

“All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go,

I’m standin here outside your door

I hate to wake you up to say goodbye…”

For me, whether John Denver or Mary from Peter, Paul and Mary is singing, the image of the singer standing at the threshold of the bedroom next to their packed suitcase brings me right to the feeling of deeply regretting an obligation that is making me leave this comfortable place.

“But the dawn is breakin, it’s early morn

The taxi’s waiting

He’s blowin’ his horn

Already I’m so lonesome

I could die.”

The taxi. That damned beckoning taxi. Don’t you know the singer doesn’t want to leave?!  ENOUGH WITH THE HORN ALREADY!

And it was in that verse, sung by someone deeply in love who doesn’t want to leave the one they love, but answering obligation despite the tax on his heart, was what brought me back to Good Friday.

Easter has songs. Christmas has songs. And yeah, yeah Good Friday has a famous song, but I submit that “Leaving on a Jet Plane” is a song with the Good Friday message.

(And I mean NO disrespect or sacrilege by comparing dying on a cross to a business trip- really, I get it.)

Imagine for a minute if the singer of “Leaving on a Jet Plane” is Jesus. Jesus, at the time of his death, was a young man with a deep love for his people. Scripture tells us that even though he accepted his fate, he was afraid. Jesus took time to say goodbye to his friends and let them know how much he loved them. Jesus implored them to stay focused on the future he had promised them, despite the sadness they might feel from being separated from him.

“Now the time has come to leave you,

One more time, let me kiss you,

Then close your eyes

I’ll be on my way…

Dream about the days to come,

When I won’t have to leave alone

About the times, I won’t have to say…..”

Obligation and necessity push the singer’s goodbye, but there is no question where his heart remains.

“Oh, Babe.. I hate to go….”

Just like I hated leaving Gummy and Pop-pop’s house, just like parents hate leaving their too soon adult children at college or just like my hospice patients hate saying goodbye to their loved ones and vice versa, Jesus’s heart broke as he took up the cross and began his trek to Calvary.

Saying goodbye to someone you love can be the hardest thing we ever have to do in life. Sad. Painful. Gut wrenching. Heart breaking.

So I am back to the question, What in the “heck” makes Good Friday good?

Of course, people that remember Good Friday know about Easter Sunday. Jesus’s “goodbye” was short, not permanent and transformed into a magical and everlasting “hello again” that is the greatest story ever told.

Resurrection is cool. Way cool. And you can’t have Easter and what it gives without Good Friday, right? But is that enough to make it ‘good’? Because I still can’t stop thinking about the man- on the cross- who died- and was wrapped and buried in a tomb- that was blocked by a large stone.

We didn’t want to say goodbye to what went into that tomb.

Or did we?

Scripture tells us Jesus died for our sins. He died so that we, his beloved people, could have everlasting life.

In the season of Lent, the forty days leading up to Easter, followers of Jesus are asked to make sacrifices during this time. Give up something or give of yourself in a way that brings you closer to God and more mindful of his sacrifice. Some people give up broccoli like that matters at all. Some people give up meat on Fridays during Lent which is cool if you consider tilapia, salmon or lobster a sacrifice. Others, however, are more deeply called to embrace the spirit of the season: they may give up something that tries to hold power over them like an addiction, a compulsion or a resentment.

And I believe it is in those sacrifices, those offerings, those gestures that move us closer to Jesus, that we find the good in Good Friday.  When Christ died for our sins and was buried but on the third day rose again, guess what didn’t follow him out?

All. That. Stuff.

I’ve written before about the virtues of Holy Saturday, the day in between hope lost and hope restored that mirrors where so many of us live every day. Between diagnosis and treatment, devastation and relief, Holy Saturday is where we hold space. And of course I’ve written about Easter- my blog is called HOPEspot, after all. I’ve praised its gifts and reminded us that they’re there for us only if we roll back the stone in front of our own tomb and rejoice for what we’ve been given.

For those that have spent Lent praying and striving to be a better spouse, a better parent, a better friend, or a better person in ways that made them get uncomfortable and dig deep within themselves, Good Friday is for you, my friends. Good Friday invites us to throw it all up there with Jesus- put your sin, your weakness, your anger, your burden up on that cross and let it die. Jesus is resurrected but your sins are not. They die today. On a cross. In Calgary. With a man who was willing to assume them all so that you could be saved.

That, to me, sounds pretty good.

What’s your Stone?

Happy Easter, HOPEspotters ! ( Don’t go away non Easter celebrators.) Today is a day of HOPE for all of us and I am inviting you to the church of hope, a place where I preach. I have a message I want to share and I think it is for us all. I believe a story of overcoming and rising has a universal appeal and a timeless application. And I LOVE stories.

So without being biblical, as I am no one’s theologian, let’s just review the story. Good Friday: Jesus is crucified and dies. Placed in a tomb that is sealed with a stone. Holy Saturday, we sit and wait. I’ve already written about that as the day we need to hold space for each other. Easter Sunday, the disciples, the friends, show up at the tomb of their friend and the stone has been rolled back, the tomb is empty. Jesus is resurrected and the miracle becomes legend. 

For those that believe, the miracle of Jesus defeating death has been the basis of their faith. It’s an answered prayer, a promise fulfilled.

But this is the church of hope, preached by me and I’m only asking for attention to the story, not the theology. The story is Jesus was crucified by people who didn’t believe in Him. He was dead. Placed in a tomb by those that loved and mourned Him. Not one of them expected what they would find on Sunday.

In this story, the message is deep and wide and loud and clear. 

The stone was rolled back. After the miracle, being trapped in the tomb was not tolerated. 

I’ve been to church on Easter almost every year of my life and I’ve heard about the empty tomb. I’ve yet to hear (and if I’ve missed it, shame on me) discussion on the events in that tomb. Like, what EXACTLY happened? Jesus was lying in there dead and God’s miracle came and restored life to Him. Jesus woke up after a hideous crucifiction ALIVE.

But what happened next? HOW did the stone get rolled back? Scripture would have you believe it was a very large boulder that sealed this man’s tomb. Who took care of the stone?

In my head, the details are clear: Jesus woke up and recognized the miracle bestowed on him. The opportunity. The second chance. But the boulder that sealed his tomb remained. It was dark. And confusing. Maybe Jesus cried and thought, “why am I STILL in the dark??”

The burden of a miracle is ia gift that should not be wasted. It was decision time. What to do with this massive stone? 

The newly resurrected man knew with certainty. 
 
With human grit and renewed determination, Jesus rolled it back himself. 

In my whole heart, I believe there was an epic battle in the tomb on Saturday night/ Sunday morning. Jesus, fresh off a resurrection, gathered up more strength than he thought he had and pushed and sweated and shoved and moved that stone. God’s miracle was to bring Him back to life. Moving the stone was all on Him. 

It wasn’t easy. Budge, push, wiggle, move. A crack of light provided new determination. 

Scripture assures us, He got out.

My HOPEspot friends, let me bring you back to my prayer for you:

ROLL. BACK. THE. STONE.

DON”T LET CRUCIFIXION END YOU.

IT’S NOT EASY.  You. MUST GET OUT.

What am I saying? WHAT IS YOUR STONE?

Friends, I believe we all have stones that keep us locked in our tombs. Despite the miracle of second chances that we’ve all been granted, we remain in a dark tomb. All of us. Even the best of us.

What are our stones? What seems to have crucified you? Addiction? Anger? Lack of forgiveness? Denial? Fear? Feelings of inadequacy? Hanging on to a bad situation? Stones that keep us in a tomb and away from the life of our dreams.

 Big. Bad. Stones. Stones that keep us from celebrating our miracle of second chances. Crucifixion did not define Jesus.  It shouldn’t  define us. 

I have a really brave friend. This friend has a child who struggled with some anxiety, crippling at times. My friend made the brave choice to send her child to a place that treated her around the clock and ultimately healed the child.

Talking to my friend about the hard choice she made, she admitted that she had resisted the “last resort”. In hindsight, my friend wished she had succumbed earlier to what finally was the ultimate solution. My friend’s tomb was dark. Her determination to move the stone was nothing short of heroic. 

And it is all over literature and the arts..

Jean Valjean in Les Miserables, perhaps the greatest character  ever to exemplify redemption, sang, “My soul belongs to God, I know I made that bargain long ago, He gave me hope when hope was gone, He gave me strength to carry on.”

The wise and wonderful Dr. Seuss reminded us, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.”

My Easter plea is for each of you to name your stone, the one that keeps you trapped in the dark, scary tomb.  Place that stone against your feeling this Easter morning and play the Jesus. Wake up. Recognize you’ve been given a miracle. Look that stone in the eye and start to rock that bitch.

I know it isn’t easy to find yourself in the dark, realizing that you have the gift of potential. You aren’t the first to struggle with that. Push, shove, dig deep thinking about all those that love you and WANT you out of that tomb.

We need you out of that tomb, friends. You can’t possibly imagine the glory and the love and the celebration that await you on the other side. So get to pushing. 

What’s your stone?

Roll it back.