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!

Eclipse Lessons

Hello, Hopespotters! It certainly has been a while. My brain, and the creative juices in it, has been much like today’s sky, a brightness encroached upon and ultimately obstructed with a naturally driven darkness. I’ve had a summer full of lots to say and yet nothing to say about it. Through the summer heat, a lot has transpired that’s left me both contemplative and speechless. Today’s Solar Eclipse, the first in the US in thirty-eight years, gave me a bit of inspiration.

“Solar Eclipse 2017” and the hype leading up to it has actually annoyed me. (Sorry, not sorry) I don’t have a reservoir of enthusiasm for most things related to “space”. I have always believed there are a lot of things going on right here on planet Earth, right in our own neighborhoods, that are more deserving of our attention, our research, our funds. I understand the solar eclipse is a naturally occurring phenomenon and a rare one at that. I am just generally drowning in media, as I think most of us are, and I had become sick to death of the mania. The ENDLESS messages about “NASA approved” eclipse glasses, the memes, the rearranging of schedules left me unreasonably irritated.  And then we were going to dig out poor Bonnie Tyler, who’s voice was already going in 1985, to croak out “Total Eclipse of the Heart” because, why not? I just couldn't.

But eclipse day arrived and as a Mom of two boys, I thought it was important to shelf some of my disinterest. To do so, I found a way to look at the eclipse and share it with Ryan and Sean in my terms, ways that resonated with me. I would leave the photography cueing and circadian rhythm observations to the experts, and I would observe, and ultimately respect this event, in a way that I found I actually needed. I’m sure I’m not the first to have these thoughts or reflections, but I’m still going to take a stab at articulating them my way.

First lesson: This Solar Eclipse was coming whether I liked it or not. Whether my annoyance was reasonable or not, I have had/ seen/ born witness to a lot of sadness lately. Good people losing battles to disease, relationships being tested, parents bringing first borns to college. These “naturally occurring” passages are hard and can leave us feeling dark.  Too often, through no fault of our own, life happens and dark cold shadows are cast on our normally bright existences. No amount of avoidance will work and no amount of annoyance will lighten the darkness. The naturally occurring eclipses come- and can be pretty damn scary.

Second lesson: To look at the Sun or not? One of the most debated eclipse topics seemed to be whether or not one could look at the sun pre and post totality. The authoritative warnings and desperate searches for safe glasses seemed to suggest one’s face might melt like the Nazi’s in “Raiders of the Lost Ark” if one simply looked to the sky. The truth is it is never safe to stare at the sun- the warnings exist because it is only during an event like an eclipse that people might take the time to really look, for extended periods of time, at the landscape of sky. Isn’t this really a lost metaphor? Why do we seem to only look at or pay attention to the “Light” when the darkness looms? Why do we only give credence to the power of the Sun (or Son-see what I did there?) when its presence and power is threatened to be obscured? You know that friend with whom you reconnected following your spouse’s cancer diagnosis who had lots of resources for you? Or when your child, who struggles academically or socially, gets assigned that teacher that totally gets him? How about the perfectly timed “I love you” text that comes when your heart is heavy? You see, you don’t have to look to know the Light is always present and powerful and you don’t need to only remember that on a day marked by darkness.

Third lesson: The best way to sit in the dark is together. As the path of “totality” neared Roswell, Georgia, Kevin, Ryan, Sean and I went outside in the backyard, with two pairs of glasses among us. Not knowing what to expect, we sat passing the glasses back and forth and watching the clock for the magic 2:36PM. In anticipation, we became quiet (a Buckley rarity). We noticed the temperature drop and we listened to the crickets begin to chirp.  We observed the many crescent shadows around us and then we did the most unusual thing. Together, in quiet, and without question, we let the dark pass over us. We surrendered to the power of nature and we simply sat. Together. On the little grass hill in the backyard. And sooner than we would have imagined, the light came back.

Fourth lesson: The light came back. Even in my presently grumpy, eclipse cynical heart, the resurrection of the Sun could not be lost on me. The Light always comes back. Post totality, the light was dim at first, but my very favorite part of the viewing came at the moment when the birds, who sing their morning song, began to sing in the mid afternoon. With momentum, the Earth got brighter and just like a stone that was rolled away to allow the Light out, the Moon moved on knowing it is a poor match for the almighty power of the sun. Nature put on a show for us today for pure reinforcement of a primal message: This too shall pass. The Sun will Rise tomorrow. The Light never really went away. There is healing. There is forgiveness. There can be growth because the light never really goes away.

Final lesson: Don’t mourn the miracle. If I wasn’t feeling so enlightened, I could say a thing or two about some of the “watchers” I saw interviewed today on the news. Suffice to say, there were some colorful characters. By and large, each observer shared feelings of being awestruck, amazed, gleeful for the opportunity for having a clear day to watch the celestial magic. For these people, I worry there might be an eclipse hangover- a sadness that they’ve seen the most special thing they’ll see until our next solar eclipse in 2024. Take heart, Eclipsians- the same power that orchestrated the majestic miracle of today's show in the sky- does some really amazing things every day. Set your alarm clock and watch the sunrise. Or go to the beach and watch the tide come in. Find a baby learning to walk. Visit a rehab hospital and watch people re-learning to walk. Miracles are EVERYWHERE and they happen EVERYDAY. And you don’t even have to buy expensive but flimsy glasses off of Amazon to see them.

The moon is now in the sky doing its “normal” thing in its “normal” place. Solar Eclipse 2017 has been officially put to bed. It is my humble hope that some of today’s lessons stay wide awake in your hearts.

“Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse. All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night. Dawn and resurrection are synonymous. The reappearance of the light is the same as the survival of the soul.” - Victor Hugo