Above the Board

In one of our offices there is a large white board on the wall. It is divided vertically into three sections. The top section lists alphabetically the names of soldiers whose remains are located in the mortuary and ready for home-going. The second section lists alphabetically the names of soldiers who have been reported Killed-in-Action but have not yet arrived in Dover. The third section lists - well, you really do not want to know. All of us who work in the mortuary like it when the second section is blank. Our troops rejoice publicly and pray privately. “Lord, keep this board empty. No more dying. No more IED’s. Bring peace.”

Yesterday I walked by the board - - - ten new names.

Sitting close to the board was a young army PFC. His job is to keep the board current, adding, moving and deleting names. I asked him if he could please stop putting new names on the board. He responded, “Sir, I pray every day that there will be no new names to add.”

I’m a chaplain. The door was open for a teaching moment; a spiritual conversation; a reminder of grace; the presence of God brought to the mortuary.

“So, PFC, what’s the problem? You prayed but the names keep on coming. Why?”

“Maybe you should be the one praying Sir.”

To myself I thought, “Point well taken.” To him I said, “I pray for peace every day, PFC. What’s going on here? How come God does not answer our prayers?”

“Must be God’s will Sir.” But his answer was quick and flippant.

“In what religious tradition did you grow up PFC?” I asked.

“Catholic and Baptist Sir.”

“So is that what you learned from your Catholic/Baptist training? That if our prayers are not answered it is because it’s not God’s will. Is that all? Nothing else? No other reason? Come on! Give me some help here.” By now four other PFC’s, two sergeants, and one Lt.Col. had stopped working and were all ears.

I neither can nor need to reproduce the entire conversation that ensued. Suffice it to say that all the party line religious answers, a little strange folk theology and some thoughtful perspective were expressed in the next 10 minutes. The conversation was animated. Everyone had something to add. It was classroom, worship space and retreat all rolled into one. The specific answers were of little importance to me. However we process these questions the names seem to keep going up on the board. What is of extreme importance to me is the awesome opportunity to enter into this conversation, turn minds toward higher things, turn hearts toward the things of God and lift eyes above the board. God showed up and it was enough.

The Fog of Alzheimer’s

On January 11, 2006 Patricia Wood (my wife’s mother) passed away after a short illness. My wife had been in Maine since receiving the news that mother had been taken to the hospital. For two plus weeks she and her two sisters and brother were able to sit by the bedside and provide comfort, presence and some physical ministrations for their mother. 

Mother was a musician. She was a master pianist who could read any music, play any tune, play by ear, transpose to any key and all with no apparent effort. On occasion she would compose, arrange and perform her own music on the keyboard in real time. These times were own one time only, performance art. Her fingers were her paint brush. Sounds, flowing chords, changing tempos and a unique feel were her oils. When asked how her fingers flowed so delicately, even magically over the keys, producing such beautiful music she could only answer with an enigmatic smile, “I guess it’s a gift.” Her music was certainly a gift to her family, her church and finally her Alzheimer’s Unit.

Though music was her reality it changed during the course of the expanding fog. I’m not sure how to describe the change. Maybe it became more basic and simple. It certainly became less technical. What was slowly lost in the fog was the connection of tunes to their names, musical language and names of notes and chords. It was a little sad when she discovered that she could no longer look at a page of sheet music and play it. Even long loved songs could not be played while looking up at the page. But when she looked down at the keys she was fine. Where once I could ask mother to play a familiar tune in the key of “F,” later I could only ask her to “take it up” until we got to the right key. Where once I could ask for “What a Friend” later her daughter Sharon would have to start the tune on her violin before mother could make the connection.

In the last few years mother’s reality was crowded out by the fog of Alzheimer's. But her music continued. Long after she began to lose words she continued to play. Though her sentences became fragmented her music kept coming from deep within her. Even when her day to day decisions were in doubt she continued playing gospel songs. And when she could no longer drive or find her way home she could always find her way to the keyboard.

Self Discipline of Writing

OK - OK - OK

I am embarrassed and pleased that in the last week I have been prodded by friends and relatives to post again. “Hey David. I’ve got you bookmarked.” “David, I notice that you have not added anything to your blog.” “Uh - David I haven’t seen anything new on your blog. Am I doing something wrong?”

My response: I’ve always had a problem with self discipline. Give me a deadline and I’ll probably meet it. But if you leave me to my own devices I will have great ideas but probably won’t follow through. It is a character flaw. I’ve been told that our weaknesses have flip side strengths but for the life of me I can’t see the other side of this one.

Lots has happened in the last 6 or 8 weeks about which I could and should write.

Phyllis’s mom died. More on that another time.

Phyllis’s brother had a six-way bypass surgery. I didn’t even know we had six! Recovery seems to be going well? We are in Delaware. He is in Maine. It is so hard to be separated.

Since last I wrote the mortuary has received and prepared almost 100 national heroes. In one of my upcoming posts I need to describe the homecoming for each of our fallen.

My favorite Wing (Boss) Chaplain is leaving Dover to become Wing Chaplain at another base. I am going to miss his wit, personal support and deep spirituality. He loves Jesus with all his heart. Sometime I should write about what I have learned about spirituality from priest-chaplains. My faith has been encouraged and deepened and challenged by my catholic brothers in Christ. I thank God for the exposure to faith traditions outside my own provided by my Air Force Reserve career.

I shared what I thought was a funny satirical article about preaching with a number of friends. One of them called me a bad name. Another decided that we were “apparently not in the same place.” I’ll have to share the article here and tell you why I thought it funny.

It is Sunday night, February 19. Phyllis and I just got back from a Jazz Vocal concert held at the Chestertown Church of the Nazarene. The concert featured Joe Holt (music director and pianist), Allen Dale (a GREAT drummer in the classical jazz tradition), and Beth McDonald in her FIRST full concert. Beth has an alto voice that will not go away. She has a grasp of the traditional jazz style but loves the sad/poignant love song and nails the ballads. Tonight she sang a Love Song concert for the Valentine Season. The first set was devoted to traditional jazz love songs. She reserved the second set for love songs to Jesus. The first set knocked my socks off. The second set was magical in a spiritual way. If you want to sample some of Joe Holts musical style check out his web site at joeholtsnotes.com.

Enough for now. Thanks for holding me accountable to my “attempt at the discipline of writing.”