"Oh, remember that my life is but wind (a puff, a breath, a sob). . .Job 7:7a (TAB)

"Sunny look what they gave me," the LVN stopped me as I was meandering through the office. 

Stopping I saw what was in her hands, my eyes misting.  It was the "to do" list of one of our patients.  It read: 

1.   Breathe 
2.   Relax, remember you can't control everything or everyone 
3.   Breathe
4.   Just because the family doesn't do it the way you do, doesn't mean it' s wrong.  They love you and are taking good care of you.
5. Breathe
6. Let go of control
7. Repeat

We clung to each other, eyes wet, remembering our patient who had over time become our friend. 

As I drove out to the house, I went from paved road to gravel to paved, to gravel to home sites with acreage.  The house was situated in the middle of 3 acres and looked inviting with wide steps and a large front porch.  Knocking on the door I wondered what to expect.  The door was opened by a small vivacious woman with short, dark hair.  "Oh good," she exclaimed, "you're just in time for afternoon coffee."  And so began an eight month friendship.

Diagnosed with lung cancer she had made the choice to enjoy her life as much as possible for as long as possible.  A typical visit always had coffee, watching of the wild birds and hummingbirds that were feeding from the back patio feeders, enjoying the blooming trees, and discussions of family concerns, how to cope with dying, what is happening in the world and how to help her family cope with her being gone.  As a former nurse, she was realistic about what was happening to her body and joyful as her spiritual journey deepened.

I liked to make her my last visit of the week because usually it would expand into a 2-3 hour visit.  Often we were joined by the LVN and when the patients husband came in from work, he'd tease us about being a bunch of old hens. 

As the disease progressed she would have good days and bad.  Always a hostess, she wanted to have our usual coffee but we noticed the subtle changes in her.  When she became confined to her bed, she allowed us to visit but no longer for hours at a time, her energy level had dwindled to minutes and the focus was now on preparing the family for losing the lynch pin of their family.

The call came at 2 a.m., the RN on call spoke quietly, "Sunny, you said you wanted to be here when it happens.  I think you need to come now."  Quickly I thanked her and got ready, driving through the dark night I felt the familiar ache in my heart.  My mind raced as I pushed back my own pain and tried to focus on what my friends family is feeling, experiencing, thinking. 

Arriving, the RN meets me at the door and says, "The sheriff is on the way."  Sheriff?? Sheriff?? Oh, that's right we are in a county that requires the Justice of Peace and Sheriff make a full report.  I sigh, "okay, what can I do to help?"  I wish I could say dying is easy -- well, dying is easy but the paperwork sometimes gets complicated. 

I went in and comforted the family as much as anyone can at the moment of death keeping one eye open as the JP and Sheriff made notes, asked questions, and took pictures.  Assisting the RN while ministering to the family, I fielded the Sheriff's questions as we waited for the funeral home to arrive.  A numbing quietness began to fill the house, the people, the heart.  Completing the paperwork, the Sheriff hugged me and thanked me for being there.  Leaving when the funeral director arrived, I said good bye to the family, reminding them to contact me when they were ready.

So, there we were, weeping over a simple list of reminders. . .that were reminders of a life that had touched us, changed us.  Reminders of a patient that became a friend, that brought us into her family, into her life as she was teaching us how to die. 

Oh, Lord, thank you for letting me part of my friends life, for sharing her life in the midst of her death.  Thank you for reminding me that life is one breath at a time but there is and incredible amount of  joy, laughter, conversation, love between each breath.  I am so grateful that she touched me and made me more loving, kind and caring.  Help me to reflect the life lessons she taught me to everyone I meet.  Amen.

As an addendum, the LVN was later diagnosed with lung cancer and used that list to help her cope when she had trouble breathing.  I was honored to preach her funeral. S