I walked into my office this morning with bit of glumness. This is unusual for me, as I’m usually bursting with ideas and energy in the morning. My wife Robbie noticed it last night and asked me if I was feeling down. I said I didn’t think I was down but just in a state of constant reflection about life right now. But now that I think about it, I guess she’s right. I’ve been pulling back from her since we had a long talk about finances over the weekend. My dad’s not showing any signs of improvement and is being moved from an intensive care part of the nursing home to what I think of as the warehouse part today. So I was glum. Down.
As I was grabbing my coffee cup, I looked over at my bookshelf where I’d stacked some new books that I’d ordered several weeks ago. I saw Kent Nerburn’s new book “Calm Surrender: Walking the Hard Road of Forgiveness” and I flipped through a few pages at random. I came upon a passage about some guy and his BMW motorcycle so I tossed the book in my bag, grabbed my coffee cup, and distinctly said in my head, “C’mon Kent, speak to me with whatever it is I’m in need of today.”
This is a strategy I learned from Polly Berrien Berends in her book “Coming to Life”. She considers it a form of prayer and calls it ‘checking for messages.’ Whenever you’re looking for inspiration or guidance of some kind, just grab a book of quotations or the Bible or any book that’s got short, inspiring, reflective content that appeals to you, open it anywhere, and ideas come. It works every time.
The third chapter in Nerburn’s new book recounts the story of his parents’ lives, up to the point of his father’s death and how his mother changed afterwards. It’s remarkably similar to my parents’ situation, and one that could shine a light for my mother in her hour of need. It just became so clear to me that I have to get her to read that chapter.
The fourth chapter chronicles the story of his mother-in-law’s near-death health problem and he and his wife’s struggle with beauracracy in the health care system. It’s a story that’s similar in many ways to my struggle with my dad’s doctors and hospital. But his choice to find ways to forgive and reach out gave me some inspiration. The staff in the intensive care unit at this nursing home where my dad is have been so terrific in the short time that he’s been there. He’ll be gone from their care today and they’ll soon forget he was ever there. But I’d like to acknowledge them somehow, to let them know that they’ve made a real difference. I think some flowers and a bag of gooey raisin fritters from our local bakery, along with a detailed note of thanks should do it.
Lastly, reading Nerburn’s chapters affirmed my vocational feel about Real Joe. I don’t know exactly how yet, but like his eloquent writing inspires me, I hope that Real Joe can find a form that does something similar for others. I could be wrong about it, but it’s what seems to be right now.