Memorial Service, Meridian Hospice, 4/9/13

Memorial Service, Meridian Hospice, 4/9/13

Holy Innocents Catholic Church of Neptune, NJ

Meditation by Rev. David Wagner

I stand in Awe….

When it comes to sheer survival, I wish to present to you today the humble turtle. “Turtle”-- even the word sounds humble, simple, and its boxy little form is easily recalled. You know what the little creature looks like. I don’t need to tell anyone here. They are like little rocks with legs that move about very slowly and they can tuck their legs, their tail and their head inside of that shell that they carry as a home. It’s a small “mobile home”,an RV, upon their backs.

I recall,as a boy, owning a small turtle purchased at the F. W. Woolworth’s store. We kids carried it around sometimes in our pockets or our hand. And we liked to watch how it protected itself by tucking in, pulling in all its exposed limbs and its head and tail…and there it was! Looking strangely safe inside of itsvery own little home.

I came across bigger turtles too in my younger years. They were snapping turtles and you’d better be careful of them, my dad told me. They could take off a finger with their powerful jaws. But when real danger arrived like a cat or dog, that turtle too pulled inside and played it safe, all tucked in and waiting for the danger to pass.

I found this small turtle lamp on the floor of my step-daughter’s room back on October the 30th, 2012. It had been inundated by flood waters and it was a mess. I didn’t think it would ever work again, it was salt water, or brackish water after all, but I cleaned it up and decided to keep it. The daughter had given up on it and rescued other items, leaving the turtle behind. Our home in Manasquan had been hit by Sandy and the turtle lamp was a casualty, thrown about and left on the floor. I have it on my desk now at Meridian Hospice and I have come to see it as a symbol of survival. It’s a turtle thing. It survives.

Over 250 million years ago the first turtles crawled upon this earth of ours,one of the oldest of prehistoric animals that still has distant descendants living today. She is older than the snakes and the lizards and other ancient beasts. Like I said, she is a survivor; it’s a turtle thing.

And then there is the Aesop’s Fable that many of us heard when we were just kids, “The Tortoise and the Hare.”

The Tortoise and the Hare

There once was a speedy hare who bragged about how fast he could run. Tired of hearing him boast, Slow and Steady, the tortoise, challenged him to a race. All the animals in the forest gathered to watch.

Hare ran down the road for a while and then and paused to rest. He looked back at Slow and Steady and cried out, "How do you expect to win this race when you are walking along at your slow, slow pace?"

Hare stretched himself out alongside the road and fell asleep, thinking, "There is plenty of time to relax."

Slow and Steady walked and walked. He never, ever stopped until he came to the finish line.

The animals who were watching cheered so loudly for Tortoise, they woke up Hare.

Hare stretched and yawned and began to run again, but it was too late. Tortoise was over the line.

After that, Hare always reminded himself, "Don't brag about your lightning pace, for Slow and Steady won the race!"

So, the turtle is a survivor. He is steady and sure although very slow of pace. Turtles carry their homes with them and can pull inside when danger looms and although not very beautiful, he keeps plodding along living a simple life and sharing his message of hope for the future with anyone who will stop long enough to take a look.

Just yesterday I visited an elderly woman who is one of our hospice patients. Not once but twice in the days that followed Sandy, she had to be evacuated from her home. The owners of her building had given the all-clear and she returned.Only a few days later, in the middle of the night, the generator that been purchased to provide electricity caught fire and she had to leave again. This time she was taken to a shelter and her family could not find where she was for three days.

Stories like these make this Spring of 2013 Hospice Memorial Service particularly difficult for all of us gathered here. Many of you, and some of our Meridian staff, have been made homeless for a time. Hard enough if you are healthy and can get around, but some of your loved ones were gravely ill and had to be moved to higher ground. How difficult it was. How sad to lose so much--keepsakes, photos and even home itself.

So once more I give to you the humble turtle. She has made her way across barren lands. She has trudged forward when everything was lost. She carries her home on her back. It’s a turtle thing.

To carry your home on your back or in your heart, I submit to you is a symbol of making it when the world around you tears away at your safety net, shatters your dreams and brings you to the bedside of your dearest ones… and there you say a most painful ,farewell.

Steady and sure you move on but often you cannot see what good lies ahead. Your focus is almost completely on what has been lost. You are grieving and there is no fast way to grieve. There is no pill that you can take. There is no denial that finally protects you. You cast about looking for the home that once had a loved one’s presence, had the familiar sounds of her voice/his voice. But your home is not the same and it never will be. How to find a home again? How can you slowly rediscover the home you carry around with you all the time? How can you find the home that is inside? How can you find the peace that your heart so painfully seeks to find?

A highly regard Vietnamese author and scholar of religion, Thich Nhat Hanh, who is also a Buddhist monk, has written this about the search for our true home.

Our true home is in the present moment.

To live in the present moment is a miracle. The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now. Peace is all around us -- in the world and in nature -- and within us -- in our bodies and our spirits.

Once we learn to touch this peace, we will be healed and transformed. It is not a matter of faith; it is a matter of practice.

-- Thich Nhat Hanh, Touching Peace

A matter of practice…

We have heard it said that “Home is where the heart is”. But what do you do when the heart is broken, or that other heart, that one that in the past beat so closely to yours, even beat in rhythm with yours-- when that heart grows still, then what?

And of course the answer is not easy. It only comes slowly and it only comes when we have trudged along for awhile and the Rabbits have all run right past us and appear to be winning the race of life.

But I say to you today that the rabbits are wrong. Their speed and grace are an illusion. The truth is that all the rabbits and birds and dogs and cats and people will all someday weep and grieve and they will all reach a point where they don’t know how to face just one more day.

And then we find the turtle’s humble faith-- that there is more to come and that we will, albeit ever so slowly, make our way into another future and another day when the sun will shine and the flowers will once more be beautiful and the children’s faces will once again delight us, down to the very center of our being.

From the writings of Paul, an early Christian scholar, we have these words about finding a home, whether here or in another world.

For we know that when this tent we live in—our body here on earth—is torn down, God will have a house in heaven for us to live in, a home he himself has made, which will last forever. And now we sigh, so great is our desire that our home which comes from heaven should be put on over us; by being clothed with it we shall not be without a body. While we live in this earthly tent, we groan with a feeling of oppression; it is not that we want to get rid of our earthly body, but that we want to have the heavenly one put on over us, so that what is mortal will be transformed by life. (I Corinthians 5:1-4)

So a turtle carries her home on her back and she has done so for millions of years. Super storms teach us that at least for a time we may have to carry our homes in our hearts.

And the painful reality of death teaches us to carry our homes, our final home where tears are no moreand separation no longer rips families apart--to carry those homesin our faith and in our hopes.

It is God who has prepared a house for us in heaven. Our faith teaches us and our hearts long to believe it, that it is a home that God himself has madeand it will last forever.

When all the turtles have grown extinct and all the storms of life have ended, a home awaits. It will not disappoint. And wonder of wonders, it may well give us that amazing chance to be reunited with those who have gone before.

Until that day comes, may you find your homes again, built up and stronger than before. May we “Restore the Shore” as the saying goes.

May your homes be safe, may they be warm and may they be secure. May the echoes and voices that you hear there be comforting ones, and may the walls and the ceilings,the floors and furniture be familiar and welcoming to you.

Dear ones, you are in our hearts and prayers. We are the richer and the stronger for having walked beside you for awhile. Maybe we helped you find your home, again.