The conversation was challenging to follow. I was meeting an 87-year-old patient for the first time. I saw from notes of other team members that he had suffered a stroke so it wasn’t surprising to notice one side of his face sagging a little bit. His tongue did not cooperate easily so speech was labored. I sat with him and gave him plenty of supportive space to form his words. Initially, since I was a stranger to him, he felt self-conscious about the time it took for him to communicate. As I mirrored his facial expressions and gave encouraging responses, he spoke more freely. He felt assured that the lag time in our conversation was acceptable.
I knew from staff notes that he had been active in his church. When I asked him about his involvement, he had much to share! It was challenging to understand him but picking up every few words helped me piece together what he wanted me to know. He stated that he had worked in the state capital and his connection to legislators played a role in helping the church get new carpeting. He must have said the word “disapprove” six or seven times in trying to indicate that the order placed for new carpeting was rejected. There was a long delay as the pastor and church leaders, my patient included, tried to sort out the jam. The order had been erroneously coded by someone along the way. As details began to reveal the glitch, my patient shared with pride that his influence with a legislator resulted in obtaining the needed approval for the project. The pastor was grateful for the intercessory work of my patient that he accomplished quietly and without need for praise. I never could figure out how a government official could play a role in clearing up a church carpeting request but I didn’t need to understand. The patient told me the story that mattered to him when reflecting on his leadership in the church. A seemingly easy improvement project dragged out for months and was brought to successful closure because of this man’s tenacity. He chuckled with a crooked smile when he spoke of his pastor’s tenure and the life of the old carpet: “He outlived the carpet.”
After wrapping up news of the carpet project, the patient took some time to clarify which branch of the denomination his church belongs to. We bemoaned the division between churches and placed hope in the promise that one day, when human affairs wrap up on this earth, there would be overwhelming and spectacular unity for those who love Jesus. This man derives great strength from his Christian faith and, as he lay bedridden with one side of his body dragging, he radiated a sense of joy that refreshed me.
After driving a distance between patient visits, I jump out of my car and rush in to meet with them. Trotting briskly down the facility hallway toward their room, I realize I need to slow my pace. I’m the one in a rush to get from one visit to the next in the course of a day. My patient is not in a rush and I need to provide a safe space for them to share what’s on their hearts. If I had somehow communicated to the church carpet patient that I was impatient with his sluggish speech, I would not have gotten to know him very well. By slowing my pace to match his, he trusted me with stories about his family, faith, and career. I loved watching how his brow furrowed when he searched for a word or talked about a challenge in the carpet caper. Other times he raised his invisible eyebrows in surprise, emphasizing an unlikely turn in the venture of faithfully serving his congregation. I found myself raising my eyebrows in an expression of surprise when he did, which encouraged him to continue. It’s interesting how readily we mirror those with whom we sit, subconsciously putting them at ease.
Advent is about waiting and watching. We are invited to be still so that we don’t miss God’s loving embrace among us. A slowed pace is antithetical to our North American approach to this holy season in the life of the Church. We have the longest to-do list of the year when it comes to Christmas preparation. Our foot is on the gas pedal. We jump out of the car and race around the store. Our fingers scroll through our online buying options, searching for gifts that will be dropped at our doorstep the very next day. We bake. We entertain. We inscribe cards. Even in our churches the pace ramps up as children rehearse for their parts in the annual pageant (which I always love!) and folks brave the cold to go caroling. I invite you to intentionally slow down. When you catch yourself breathlessly rushing toward a neighbor with your own agenda, put on the brakes. Maybe someone is excited to tell you how their pastor outlived a tired church carpet! So, when the adrenaline rushes as you panic over what needs to get done in a December day, breathe deeply. Turn your heart heavenward.
God is near. Jesus is coming. All is well.
Laurie is an ordained pastor who recently retired from more than 30 years in parish ministry to pursue chaplaincy. She is a spiritual director and retreat leader through her own company, Sunflower Spiritual Direction (sunflowerspiritualdirection.net). She is a grief counselor for Heartland Hospice and author of a book on worship. She loves time spent with her family, cooking good meals, and traveling. You may follow her reflections at preachinglife.net