This may be round three on the humanization theme but what the heck. Maybe, just maybe, all blessed mortals on this planet, believers and non-believers, will experience a moment of sheer bliss before taking their last breath. And if we’re lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time we’ll be able to witness such moments. I got real lucky while serving as a pastor for decades and volunteer hospital chaplain for a time. I posted the following account in the past but it’s worth citing again in this context.
I received a call from a distraught daughter of an elderly member of my church. She indicated a physician reported that her father who was in Hospice care at home could possibly die within hours but he had suddenly kept family members from coming near him for some strange reason. I rushed over to the home to find the daughter and mother standing in the kitchen in tears. “He still won’t talk to us.”
I walked into the living room (ironic nomenclature given the situation) stood beside the hospital bed and asked “Harold, what are you thinking about at the moment?”
He muttered half-grudgingly “None of your business, preacher.”
I muttered back half-jokingly “Your wife and daughter urged me to come by because you and I have a close friendship, you’re ignoring them, and they think I might be able to talk some sense into you.”
“It’s not working.”
“I’m going to remain here with you until things begin to make some sense.”
He stayed silent for two or three long minutes and finally whispered “You like to fish, right?”
“Right.”
“It’s amazing; out of the blue a while ago I began thinking about a fishing trip along the Snake River. I met a couple of others guys fishing; we had a great catch and a fantastic time around a campfire. It was one of those once-in-a-life-time experiences and I want to stay with it for a little while. Like right now!”
“OK,” I quipped, “but hurry up, Mildred and Cathy are anxious to be with you.”
He was laboring to breathe but he managed to smile and reply “I plan to, but how about you, cutting into my time left?”
O God, I wanna go out like Harold with my 32 # salmon when the time comes. Is that asking too much?
In the next scene I’m with my dying father. My step-mom and Hospice attendant step out of the den for a break. I walk over to dad who had been on his back on the couch for two days with arms at his sides and down to about 85 pounds. The doctor had claimed he was in a coma and unresponsive. I had just received a doctorate in religion but knelt beside him and mumbled tearfully “Alright, dad, you’re soon going to be with mom, grandpa and grandma…” I began naming deceased aunts, uncles, cousins, and our pets: dogs, cats, rabbits and frogs. I thought, wishfully at the time, that he flinched a little with each monicker. When I ran out of names I finally uttered “Dad, if you’re OK in there can you give me some kind of sign?” After a few seconds he gradually lifted an arm and placed his hand on his chest, did the same with the other, managed a faint smile for a second and breathed his last breath as his head fell to one side.
Frankly, I was stunned and just a wee bit spooked. Did I help him on the crossover or was he merely experiencing a universal piece of bliss that may have nothing to do with an afterlife?
Another classic and memorable… (lets just call them ‘bliss gems’ for now) occurred while I was making a hospital call on a member who was near death in an Intensive Care Unit. I entered the room to find ten or so family members sitting silently and somberly while a nurse was attending to the father. I left to make another call on a parishioner in the hospital. I returned 15 minutes later to discover that the visitors were still in a sad, silent mood. I figured the patient was asleep or in a coma. No one was near him so I stepped over to the bedside and was surprised to see he was wide-awake and fairly alert.
“Hi George.”
“Hi Pastor.”
I ventured to ask “On a scale of ten, with ten being the most positive and one being the most negative, how are you feeling right now?”
He didn’t hesitate, “One” he whispered feebly.
“What’s with the one?”
“Well, look at my family’s expressions; they’re seriously depressed.”
I countered bluntly “Well geez, George, you’re dying.”
“Yes, but I’m not as depressed as they appear to be. They don’t know what to say or do and they’ve been here for hours. How about telling them a joke? You know, the one about the parrots.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like a kidder in my condition?”
I turned to his loved ones and announced to their utter surprise “He wants me to tell you a joke.” Most of them frowned, turned a little pale and looked at each other as if to say ‘Can he do that in here?’
I assured them it would be OK by claiming it was a religious joke, and totally appropriate.
Well, hey, here’s the joke, readers, you be the judge. An elderly church member from Britain wanted to to get to know the new pastor so she invited him for high tea at her home. They were in the midst of a lovely meal when suddenly her parrot blurts out “Whoopie, I’m a good-time girl! Whoopie, I’m a good-time girl!” The hostess is humiliated. “Oh, Reverend,” she exclaims “I don’t know where that bird got that kind of talk. I’ve not had it long, you know?”
“That’s OK,” the pastor remarks. “Say, I have two male parrots and they’re very somber and all they do is pray. Can I borrow your parrot for a brief time?”
“Well, certainly, I guess so.”
He takes the parrot home, places it between his two male parrots, and within two days the she-parrot chirps “Whoopie, I’m a good-time girl! Whoopie, I’m a good time girl!”
One male parrot turns to the other and crows “Well, finally our prayers have been answered!”
When I finish Papa pleads from his bed “Tell them the the rest of it.”
I reveal to them that the president of our church women society told me the joke. The following week she came to my office and assured me rather sheepishly “Pastor, when the parrot shouts “Good time girl” I think it probably refers to dancing.”
I replied “Oh, right, Jean.”
The family members burst out laughing, while George could only come through with a smile. While preparing for the memorial service the family asked me to include the joke in his eulogy.
When I passed by the unit station on the way out I got the thumbs-up sign from four nurses who were obviously blessed with perfect hearing.
What if those ‘bliss gems’ with which we’re blessed are meant to provide a unifying force on the planet that can bring families and strangers together like no other source of compassion and we need to find ways to be present to them and/or risk helping them happen?
