While the owners would not appreciate it, I hope no one purchases a lot and builds a home in the River Hill subdivision. That undeveloped subdivision provided the setting for a wonderful meal of soul food tonight.
All of us need nourishment for the deepest part of ourselves, the place from which we draw strength for traveling through days that are sometimes filled with too much to do. Often much of what fills our days does not nourish our souls but instead drains the life and strength and stamina from us.
While my days are not so full as they have been in the past, and Mary Ann’s and my time together is going pretty well, the need for feeding my soul remains. Tonight it was fed.
Twila came to stay with Mary Ann. They seemed to enjoy their time together. There was progress made on a novel — a different one from Elaine’s Sunday morning book. I headed out to that spot high on a hill, above and behind a new shopping area. There is a new street that has been constructed, and I am sure the area has been platted with very expensive lots. No one has bought a lot and built yet.
The spot has trees on both sides bordering the field of varied and colorful weeds that will probably one day be lawns and houses. The view to the west is beyond description. There are trees and fields and low rolling hills that extend all the way to the horizon many miles away. A little area of the Kansas River is visible. The railroad tracks run along side the tracks. Trains can often be seen and whistles heard as they move along those tracks.
Today, while Mary Ann was looking for a couple of books at the library, I noticed the shelves containing the Classical Music CD’s. I picked a couple almost at random. One is called “The Prayer Cycle” by Jonathan Elias. Actually it both confused and intrigued me when I looked at it more carefully. It is listed as a choral symphony in nine movements. The confusing part was that those listed as performers included Alanis Morissette, James Taylor, the American Boychoir, John Williams, Linda Ronstadt, The English Chamber Orchestra and Chorus, and a number of people with names suggesting a variety of nationalities.
To describe the experience I need to borrow a Greek word. Maybe having to take seven years of Greek is paying off. The word I am borrowing is the word for compassion. The Greek word for compassion transliterated into English is splangknidzomai. The first part of the word, splangkna, means viscera, innards, guts. That is where the Ancient Greeks understood deep feelings to reside. Given the size of the antacid business, I suspect the Ancient Greeks were right. Tonight, the music on that CD combined with the sounds and sights of that remarkable setting to reach into the depths of my splangkna to stir and lift my spirit.
The sun was still a couple of hours from setting when I looked at it hanging in the west. There were some thin and hazy clouds muting its brightness. As it moved lower in the sky, it became less and less visible. The cloudiness had no clear boundary, except that it sort of melted into a mist in the trees on the horizon. There was just a powerful calming in the view from that hill.
The trees on one side in particular were quaking in the wind providing more power to the calming effect. They were not the Quaking Aspen of Colorado, but another member of the family. There were, of course, birds to be seen and heard. One tiny bird sang a wonderfully complex melody so loudly that I could hear it over the music on the CD.
There was a hawk sailing around for a bit. I am convinced that the hawk was as exhilarated by the currents under his wings lifting him as I was by the sights and sounds on that hill lifting my spirit. There were some swallows that appeared to be dancing with one another in midair. I realized that the dance was their way of catching food. Without the dance, they would die. I felt as if I was being surrounded by metaphors one after another filled with clues for living meaningfully.
One part of the scene was the intrusion of the relentless sound of tires on the pavement of a nearby Interstate. That sound actually seemed to help balance the exhiliration of my lifted spirit with the practical realities of my daily experiences.
Then there was the music. The music blended choral, instrumental and chant together in the same pieces. The chant was odd. It was certainly not Gregorian Chant. One semester in the Seminary, I had a class in the Solemnes style of Gregorian Chant. For three years I sang in a small chant ensemble that sang at weekly chapel services. While this was not Gregorian, it was chant. The chant and choral music was sung in a variety of languages, Hungarian, Mali, Swahili, Dwala, Tibetan, German, French, Urdu, Latin, English, Italian, Hebrew, and Spanish. For some reason I had the odd feeling that this chant was a reverent, multilingual, classical style of Rap.
I was struck by the way rich chords and complex dissonances contrasted one another, each more beautiful because it was next to the other. In the moments of silence between phrases in the music, the birds and the wind in the trees and the sounds of traffic folded more prominently into the experience.
With this feeble attempt at translating the sights and sounds of a moving, spirit lifting experience into words, I intend to say that a couple of hours well spent can feed the soul of a Caregiver whose days may be filled with activities that do not necessarily lift the spirit. For me, it is the soul feeding experiences that help bring meaning to the daily tasks. With a well-fed soul, the Caregiving itself can become soul food.
Eat heartily!
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Volunteer Elaine has one rule for us: “Don’t read the book between my visits!” She doesn’t want to miss any part of the story. Elaine comes on a Sunday morning once a month for about three hours. She reads from a novel she and Mary Ann have chosen. This morning, she took Mary Ann in the wheelchair to the neighborhood vest pocket park a little over a block away. The two of them enjoyed the flowers folks had planted in the back yards that border the park. There were a couple of pairs of Bluebirds that entertained them. When they returned, Elaine started reading. The next Sunday morning that she comes, she will go on with the next chapter or two in the story.
Each of the Volunteers brings something different to the visit. Sometimes just watching television with Mary Ann is what is needed. Other times Volunteers will keep Mary Ann abreast of their own lives and families. Some do a little ironing (or a lot). Some will bring food and maybe make the meal while they are here. All of them expand Mary Ann’s world.
There are times a Volunteer will come while I remain at the house, doing a variety of tasks, sometimes outside, more often in the office at the computer. That option is especially helpful for Volunteers who might be new to the role, needing to get accustomed to helping Mary Ann, or uncomfortable with or physically unable to do some of the caregiving duties.
Of course there is a benefit for the Caregiver when there is a Volunteer. As a retired pastor still worshiping at the church from which I retired, I have chosen to keep a low profile. The church has an Evening Service, one that I started about a decade ago. It has a comparatively small attendance, and the service is a little quieter and more contemplative than the morning services at which there are lots of folks of all ages coming and going. The Evening Service is a friendlier setting for those with handicaps since there are fewer people to move through, fewer energetic little ones zipping here and there.
The Evening Service is the one that we have chosen to attend. When there is a Volunteer available I use the Sunday morning time for solitude. I usually drive to a lake about twenty minutes from here. The lake is large and beautiful. I usually find a spot there to do some devotional reading and just look around at the sights. Today, after the time at the lake, I drove beneath the dam to a marsh that has been preserved for wildlife. As I walked along a path beside the marsh, looking at and listening to the birds, as I listened to the occasional frog, watched the dragon flies, listened to the wind blowing through the tall grass, it dawned on me why their was such a calm and comfortable sensation washing over me.
When I was growing up, we lived two blocks from a swamp. That swamp was my retreat. I spent hours there, at least until my Mother figured out that I was at the swamp again. I always went back, no matter how often I got scolded. I still remember the willow switch stinging the back of my bare legs (unfortunately I was wearing shorts) with each step as we walked back from the swamp after Mom came down to get me.
The sound of Red-winged Blackbirds singing always takes me back to those idyllic days. I am there again with frogs and cattails and tadpoles and water bugs, with the wind blowing through the weeds.
A few hours away is an essential element in healthy caregiving. I need those times of solitude, times during which I have no responsibilities. I stay as long as I choose in one spot and when I feel like doing so, move to another. This morning I walked very slowly and soaked in every dimension of the experience. The Great Blue Herons, Meadowlarks, Tree Swallows, Barn Swallows, Orioles, the sounds of the occasional frog, the wind in the nearby Poplar Trees (the greatest for making wonderful sounds when the wind is blowing), all got the time and attention they were due. Each time I would stop for a while, more variety of sights and sounds would enter my awareness. They were there before, but until I quieted myself and relaxed, I wasn’t aware of them. Civilization made itself known through the sound of four-wheelers in an area made for them not far from the marsh.
Mary Ann and I each got a time this morning that was refreshing and renewing and entertaining. After I came home there were some problems to deal with due to the fainting issue making its presence known. After we got through that, I made lunch. Yes, I actually cooked! It is another of those recipes so simple a caveman could do it (sorry Geico guys).
The recipe: I opened a package of pre-cooked bratwurst sausages and browned them in some oil in a large pan. After setting them aside I put a large quantity of onions (cut into fairly large pieces) and browned them in the pan with the drippings from the brats. Then came a couple of spoonfuls of garlic pieces from a jar. After that I added lots of slices of apples. After cooking all that for a while with the lid on so that the apples cooked through and softened, I put the brats back in, opened a can of Bavarian style sauerkraut over the top and let the flavors mix and the liquid from the apples and kraut cook down a bit. On occasion I have added a little left over white wine into the pan to deglaze it. I do that just because it sounds cool. I guess it also adds a little sweetness. By the way, there is no need to add any seasonings to this dish. The apples and onions and Bavarian style sauerkraut add plenty of sweetness, and the brats and sauerkraut add the saltiness and lots of flavor.
What made me proud today was that Mary Ann actually ate it and seemed to enjoy it!
After Mary Ann napped, we headed off to the Evening Service. That was a corporate worship experience for us, and a chance for Mary Ann to get out into a setting that allowed some social interaction. She did struggle a bit during the service. There was one fainting spell, but it passed quickly. We just did a little more sitting than usual during the service.
Getting out with people is another important need both for the Caregiver and Receiver. It is tempting to stay isolated at home. While that may be easier, in the long run it will take a heavy toll on both.
We picked up a strawberry shake from Sonic for Mary Ann on the way home. I made myself a tasty peanut butter and jelly (Blackberry Jam) toast, we watched a little television, I watered the flowers and now I am writing this while Mary Ann is secure in bed — I can see her on the little seven inch baby monitor screen.
This is hardly exciting reading, but it is an account of some of the practical tools that allow us to travel this journey with Parkinson’s in a way that doesn’t steal from us the quality of our lives together.
If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,” click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment. Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing. Comments are appreciated.
The Caregiver Calling 