On my March 15th entry I recounted the story of Sharon and her siblings as they dealt with their mother Evelyn and her experience with medically induced dementia. Earlier this week one of her older siblings, whom I also taught, wrote to me. In that letter, Jack commented on that entry remarking that what I said was "right on the mark." With his permission I include the rest of his comments
"Mom now talks like she did 10 years ago. You are right. You can't give anyone that kind of mind affecting medication and expect them to cope. I wish health care providers would sometimes just take a step back and really think about the types and quantities of medications they are prescribing for the elderly. As you said the real tragedy is that many elderly people don't have a loved one to help. It really took a toll on Sharon as well as Mom. I'm glad it is over. Mom is physically healthy for her age (85). Now that she is "dried out" perhaps she can enjoy more of her remaining years."
I was moved to post this entry today after reading a story on cnn.com entitled, "Is Grandma Drugged Up?" The link to this story, both a video and a text story, is listed below, documenting what evidently happens all too frequently to elderly Americans. You can cut and paste this URL in the address box of your browser.
http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/05/28/ep.age.meds/index.html
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
We Are a Pilgrim People, We Are the Church of God
© May 20, 2008 by Imelda Maurer, cdp
On Pentecost Sunday my parish of Saint Agnes Church experienced a meaningful, moving Pentecost liturgy. The opening hymn had as its refrain, "We are a pilgrim people, we are the Church of God." As I sang, 'pilgrim' conjured up the reality that the nature of pilgrim and pilgrimage is that of moving toward a worthy goal as opposed to a permanent, stable position or condition. In that context I remembered my losses through death over the past year of significant others in my life, women with whom I had shared ministry and community life in significant ways years ago. These women have completed their pilgrimage. The rest of us continue on that path. As we do, we remember those whose faces we no longer see, but whose spirits live within us and within the community. Our Congregation has a beautiful and deeply symbolic ritual each summer, remembering those Sisters and Associates who have completed their pilgrimage and gone ahead since our last gathering. It is often poignant when a Sister's picture is flashed onto the media screen, particularly if her death was, by human judgment, too soon in her life or in her illness.
I experienced a similar poignant moment last December while I was on our university campus. I accompanied a lay university professor, the Dean of the School of Professional Studies, to an appointment; our way took us into the entrance of the Main Building. We had just shared a conversation in which she told me how she felt "so called" to be a part of our university primarily because of the high population of first generation Hispanic students and the university's efforts to empower them through a good education.
Of course I had been in that lobby and hallway more times than I can count. But that morning I saw things differently, perhaps because of our recent conversation. I saw again the framed photographs of our university's founding Sisters and of the university Presidents along with other items documenting our history and legacy. Tears welled up immediately with emotions of nostalgia, pride and gratitude. I was so conscious of the richness of my, of our, congregational heritage.
On Tuesday evening before Pentecost, that Main Building of Our Lady of the Lake University, burst into flame about 7:45 p.m., Texas time, the result of an electrical short in the attic above fourth floor. My first call came from a friend in San Antonio when she first saw it on the local TV station. My home phone and cell phone were busy over the next two hours. Calls coming in and going out. No one could grasp the enormity of the inferno, the significance of this loss. The same disbelief followed later as I watched TV website videos taken that evening and the following day.
The loss is a physical building. Like the Sisters who go ahead of us, there is a physical change, but the heritage of our university and its mission live on within us and within the larger community.
The gain is the opportunity for transformation. Fire is itself a symbol of transformation. Joan Chittister addresses the challenge when she reminds U.S. Sisters that though our numbers (Sisters, Sisters who actually are on the staff of our university) are decreasing, "it's not numbers we need. We each have at least as many strong women leaders as we had when we started."
And so we do! I ask the readers of this blog to keep our Sisters and our university in your prayers. We will rebuild. Let us pray that in the process of rebuilding that the mission is maintained --- no, strengthened, born anew through this potentially transforming event. Let us pray that our foremothers who provided this legacy are with us in spirit and grace throughout this task. Let us pray that the Sisters and staff at Our Lady of the Lake University and all CDPs can be engaged "in one great enterprise of fire and flame" (Chittister), that the leadership within all of us will "follow the lights . . . to the edge of tomorrow rather than the preservation of yesterday." (Chittister)
Another part of the refrain of our Pentecost gathering hymn speaks of the Spirit –sometimes represented as tongues of fire: "United in one spirit, ignited by the fire." And so may we all be.
On Pentecost Sunday my parish of Saint Agnes Church experienced a meaningful, moving Pentecost liturgy. The opening hymn had as its refrain, "We are a pilgrim people, we are the Church of God." As I sang, 'pilgrim' conjured up the reality that the nature of pilgrim and pilgrimage is that of moving toward a worthy goal as opposed to a permanent, stable position or condition. In that context I remembered my losses through death over the past year of significant others in my life, women with whom I had shared ministry and community life in significant ways years ago. These women have completed their pilgrimage. The rest of us continue on that path. As we do, we remember those whose faces we no longer see, but whose spirits live within us and within the community. Our Congregation has a beautiful and deeply symbolic ritual each summer, remembering those Sisters and Associates who have completed their pilgrimage and gone ahead since our last gathering. It is often poignant when a Sister's picture is flashed onto the media screen, particularly if her death was, by human judgment, too soon in her life or in her illness.
I experienced a similar poignant moment last December while I was on our university campus. I accompanied a lay university professor, the Dean of the School of Professional Studies, to an appointment; our way took us into the entrance of the Main Building. We had just shared a conversation in which she told me how she felt "so called" to be a part of our university primarily because of the high population of first generation Hispanic students and the university's efforts to empower them through a good education.
Of course I had been in that lobby and hallway more times than I can count. But that morning I saw things differently, perhaps because of our recent conversation. I saw again the framed photographs of our university's founding Sisters and of the university Presidents along with other items documenting our history and legacy. Tears welled up immediately with emotions of nostalgia, pride and gratitude. I was so conscious of the richness of my, of our, congregational heritage.
On Tuesday evening before Pentecost, that Main Building of Our Lady of the Lake University, burst into flame about 7:45 p.m., Texas time, the result of an electrical short in the attic above fourth floor. My first call came from a friend in San Antonio when she first saw it on the local TV station. My home phone and cell phone were busy over the next two hours. Calls coming in and going out. No one could grasp the enormity of the inferno, the significance of this loss. The same disbelief followed later as I watched TV website videos taken that evening and the following day.
The loss is a physical building. Like the Sisters who go ahead of us, there is a physical change, but the heritage of our university and its mission live on within us and within the larger community.
The gain is the opportunity for transformation. Fire is itself a symbol of transformation. Joan Chittister addresses the challenge when she reminds U.S. Sisters that though our numbers (Sisters, Sisters who actually are on the staff of our university) are decreasing, "it's not numbers we need. We each have at least as many strong women leaders as we had when we started."
And so we do! I ask the readers of this blog to keep our Sisters and our university in your prayers. We will rebuild. Let us pray that in the process of rebuilding that the mission is maintained --- no, strengthened, born anew through this potentially transforming event. Let us pray that our foremothers who provided this legacy are with us in spirit and grace throughout this task. Let us pray that the Sisters and staff at Our Lady of the Lake University and all CDPs can be engaged "in one great enterprise of fire and flame" (Chittister), that the leadership within all of us will "follow the lights . . . to the edge of tomorrow rather than the preservation of yesterday." (Chittister)
Another part of the refrain of our Pentecost gathering hymn speaks of the Spirit –sometimes represented as tongues of fire: "United in one spirit, ignited by the fire." And so may we all be.
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