In case you haven’t noticed – and judging from the lack of
comment I’ve received, you haven’t – it’s been a long time since I’ve added to
this blog. Strangely enough, I’ve been busy. Since my “retirement” from a Large
Religious Organization, I’ve been on the lookout for something else. I want to
re-group and re-purpose myself. I’m looking to find a new reason for starting
the day and new things to talk about when I get home. People keep telling me
that “it” is out there somewhere. They just don’t have a clear idea where or
what “it” is.
Neither do I.
Still, I recently finished something that gives me at least
a glimmer of what “it” might be. This spring, I launched on an adventure that
brought me no fame and no fortune. It actually cost me a pretty good chunk of
change when all was said and done. That’s how my life tends to work.
In lieu of gainful employment, I embarked on a chaplaincy
internship. Ron, a good friend and former colleague in the aforementioned Large
Religious Organization (hereafter referred to as the LRO), called me and told
me about an opportunity that had come up very quickly. If I wanted to be part
of it, I needed to decide and get my application done in about 24 hours. Thanks
for the lead time, Ron! Anyway, I filled out my application and sent it (along
with the non-refundable $50 fee) to the Care and Counseling Center of Georgia.
After a few days and an interview, I was officially a Chaplain Intern for Presbyterian
Homes of Georgia.
I would be working Philips Tower, a senior independent living center in Decatur.
I had no idea what I was getting into, but it was an
opportunity to explore not only a possible interest and a new area of service,
but to explore who the last 27 years of loyalty to the LRO had made me to be. I should
have been nervous. Really, I was more curious than nervous and looked forward
to it. Sitting around searching the internet for possible employment will make
anyone look forward to just about anything.
I had never worked with senior adults. The minimum age to be
a resident of the PHofGA is 62. Most of our residents were well above that.
Would I have anything to offer them? After all, I had spent my career dealing
with the issues faced by college students. Would they want to accept anything I
had to offer? They didn’t know me. Why should they be open to anything I said
or did? What about the staff I would be working with? Would they allow me to be
a real part of life at Philips
Tower? It would take some
kind of magic or divine intervention to make it all come together.
It would take some kind of alchemy.
The basic definition of alchemy is creating something of
great value – usually gold – out of a common substance believed to be of little
worth. I spend three months in an alchemical cauldron of people from different
places who led different lives and who now found themselves residents of the
same 10-story high rise. Into the cauldron they poured their personalities and
quirks, their preferences and their experiences and their faith. To that mix I
added my own experience, whatever expertise I had and my hope to be part of
something bigger than myself.
I found myself amazed. I now believe in the alchemy of
people. Remarkable things happened when we worshipped and celebrated communion
together or when we talked together or when we simply encountered one another
in the hallway. I had arrived hoping to witness alchemy. I stayed to become
part of the gold.
Why? Simply, it was the people. Most of the residents were
glad to see us on a daily basis. They supported us as we were trying to support
them. I was humbled at the extent of their experience and the lives many had
led. Some were sad. Some struggled with physical illness or limitations. A few were dealing with things that happened early in their lives but were so horrific that they were still in pain. Some
were happy to still be able to talk or laugh or sing or pray.
I didn’t get the chance to thank everyone like I needed to
and should have. I’ve never really been good at that anyway. Still, it’s
important to be able to say that these people became part of my life and I’m
glad for that. Some I will never forget.
For Ilene, who told people that I was her adopted son and
who told great off-color jokes, thank you – I’m still laughing. For Jim, who
was a high school classmate of baseball great Joe Torre, thanks for the
stories. For Dorothy who never could remember what she had told me so she told
me again every 5 minutes, I miss your smile. For Gwen, sharp as a tack at age
105, you inspire me. For Ben, who sometimes struggles for answers, I’m right
there with you.
For the staff of Philips
Tower, I thank you too.
Mary, my supervisor, always wanted me to be more open and more transparent. I’m
trying, Mary. Thanks for all you did for me. Bob, the funniest Activities
Director around – I miss hearing rock and roll in the office. Rae and Belinda,
thank you for your support and acceptance – and thanks, Rae for letting me play
the djembe. Connie, empress of the office, we will continue to pray without
ceasing. Stacy, thank you for accepting me as a part of the staff. Russ, I
appreciate all your encouragement. Shawn and the Blue Men who keep things
running – it was a great ride. And Scott, who got there two weeks before I
left, I’m glad we reconnected. Who knew a former student would show up and be a
fellow staff member?
I don’t know what the future will hold for me. I
wish that I did. If I can find a place for myself that mirrors the alchemy of
age that I found in that senior living center, I will be more than happy. I
will be re-purposed.
