Giving Through Hospice
Last night was our scheduled orientation with the hospice group that my husband and I are joining. It was bitterly cold, and the moon looked blurry in the approaching snowstorm. Everyone had warned me about doing this so soon – less than a year after my mother’s death. And as I approached the hospital, shivering, I wondered myself if I was attempting too much.
I really started to doubt what I was doing when the room number I had been given turned out to be a restroom. But apparently we were just in the wrong wing. Somehow we arrived at the correct room on time, and the hospice chaplain greeted us with a wonderful smile and a box of Fig Newtons.
My intuition had told me that this was going to be OK, but there was no way of knowing for sure until the process began. The next several hours passed quickly and I left feeling relieved, positive and encouraged.
Today, as I made space for the new manual on my desk, I was struck with the thought, “How in the world did I get here?” If someone had told me a year ago that in twelve months time I would be volunteering for an organization that assists the dying, I would have said, “Sorry, but I’m not capable of doing that.” That’s what I believed.
So what happened in the interim? Yes, my mother was in hospice. I was tremendously grateful for everything that the staff did for her. But I never considered joining them until a few months ago when I was reading the local paper and a notice about a hospice orientation jumped out at me. A few days later, another announcement, in another publication caught my eye. Was “someone” trying to get my attention?
As I considered the meaning of this unexpected interest in hospice, I had a sudden image of my dad grinning at me. He never was much of a grinner, but he was definitely grinning at me now. I almost laughed out loud, and then I got it. I understood.
In the latter years of his life, my father was an active volunteer in a variety of groups and was passionate about the importance of volunteering. I have come to believe that each stage of life calls forth from us the expression of gifts/talents/abilities that we may have not had the opportunity to use earlier. Either we weren’t ready, or the circumstances weren’t right yet, or both. But when the Universe is aligned, the call goes out — unmistakable and undeniable.
And I now know I’ve been called. My guess is that my experience with my mother took away my fears of the unknown and allowed me to explore my capacities to help her in her transition. I felt empowered, and privileged in a way that I never have before. I want to do more; to be able to give back and make a difference. Of course, hospice service is not for everyone. But whereas I used to be wary of the emotional vulnerability that comes with saying goodbyes, I now know that there is also much that can be done to offer relief and bear tribute to the process.
Thank goodness, we’re all called to do a variety of things. I can only imagine the strength one needs in order to work with abused children, assist in disaster recovery, do battle in a foreign country, or fight any kind of oppression. There’s room for all of us to make whatever contribution we’re most suited for.
What’s important is to “listen”. Listen for the whispers of where it is that you feel most fulfilled. Listen for the clues that tell you what to do next. Trust that if something is for your higher good, you will be directed there.
We’re told that this is the season for giving. Remember to give to yourself first, so that you have the strength to give to others. Then, give to family, friends, neighbors. And, if you can, reach out to those who may not be fortunate enough to have people around them at this time of year.
I’m grateful for your presence in my life, and I wish you many warm and meaningful moments throughout the holidays!
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“I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver.”
– Maya Angelou
