Nachtmusik

I have been handling aging with humor because I do.  I quit writing for awhile because humor deserted me in the wake of illness following two deaths in my family.  One of the deaths was of my younger brother.  So at the end of the summer I have been haunted by death and illness and not doing well with either.  This week I am back.  I kept working through all of it because I do that, too.  Being a Pastor has advantages.  Every bit of effort I put into healing makes me a better Pastor.  It is one of those unexpected gifts of ministry.

The gift brings with it calm in the midst of disaster.  I know grief’s many faces, but I can’t think of any good reason to unmask them.  We greet them when we must, enduring their tantrums.  It is Kabuki theater from another point of view.  Sometimes the mask holds back a flood.

The death of my younger brother brought my own death and slow disability sharply into focus.  That death should usher in distress and illness is not news.  What was new to me was the struggle to accept it for myself.  I had believed that my slowing down was due to chronic pain issues that would be resolved at some point.  With Don’s death I accepted they would not.  Denial no longer works for me

The light in this, and it is returning, is that every day seems more precious for being limited.  I am not talking about death.  I am referring to disability.  I have seen too many people suffer depression because they are no longer able to do what they required of themselves.  My brother died of it.  I watched it, knew it, understood it…was helpless to prevent it.

If I must face disability in order to drink my glass of life to the bottom, then that is what I will do.  I do it with humor because that is what I do.  For me it is a coping skill.  When I imagined it was temporary it was easier.  This is what is left in the glass.  It is no longer the light, sweet wine of the Vienna wine-tasting district, but something darker from other slopes than the Danube.

let the night fall.