March 11, 2005

Saying Goodby

This afternoon Marilyn and I attended the memorial service for Laurence Brewster. Laurence was chair of the pulpit committee that called me to the First Congregational UCC in Bellingham in 1981. On our first visit to Bellingham, Marilyn and I stayed at Laurence and Margaret's home. It was like being with family.

Over the years I have come to love Laurence and Margaret and their family. When I arrived in the church I found a box of pictures of each member family with their names—a gift from Laurence. As a retired professor of speech and drama Laurence was always supportive and complementary. He was generous with praise and willing to share excerpts from his vast reading which might be of use to his pastor.

The service was beautifully designed and moving to me. It paid tribute to one whom Cindy Bauleke identified as a “saint”, whose life touched and continues to guide many others. I realized that the ritual of saying "goodby" to someone you love and respect is very healing. And it suggests that there may well be a time when we say "hello" again.

These days a line in a prayer, or a phrase in a hymn, can trigger my emotion with its immediate transfer from my normal voice to a sqeaky and strange adolescent voice. I am moved easily and often and it's no secret to those around me.

On the one hand, I know that this reaction is partially due to my medication and relative lack of energy. On the other hand I welcome it because it breaks through that emotional shield that I developed in order to manage painful and difficult pastoral occasions. In retirement, I do not need that shield any longer, and although my emotional moments often bring laughter to family and friends, I think they know that I am easily touched and enormously grateful for those words and cards which elicit them.

I am frustrated by the small amount of energy I have following radiation, and yet I can see small increments week by week and am pleased for that. I have an appointment with yet another Dr. next Monday, this time an oncologist, who may be able to prescribe something to address my anemia. I look forward to gaining a bit in that area and eliminating the breathlessness climbing stairs and the occasional dizziness when standing up after sitting for a time.

On March 28th I will go to Seattle for a new set of scans and an appointment with my primary oncologist, Dr. Higano. After that I'll know more about what is happening in my body and hopefully will have a clearer picture of what lies ahead.

In the meantime, which is the only real time, I am grateful for the beauty of each day, for the new buds and flowers on our daily walks, for a vast circle of loving friends and family and for the creative presence of he Holy Spirit at the center of it all. Life, each moment of it is a blessing.

Posted by Donel at March 11, 2005 08:41 PM

Don (somehow you became Donel when I wasn't looking [listening?]) - it sounds as if your internal self is going full bore whilst your body is temporarily slowing down a bit - perhaps in order to absorb and make good use of all the healing tools being focused on it? Well I'd like to think so anyway.

I knew that you 'blossomed where you were planted' in Bellingham. Your stories about Laurence Brewster help make it wonderfully clear that when you arrived there you were immediately blessed by the open arms and support of an outstanding man. What a treasure and what a grand way to start on a new adventure.

Please know that Joe and I walk with you on your journey accompanied by our prayers and our thanks for good times - especially those involving a gut-bucket.

Peggy

Posted by: Peggy Schuh at March 12, 2005 10:52 AM

Hi Donel,

As with Peggy Schuh, Donel seems more formal than my customary thought of you, but give me time and I'll get accustomed to it.

My thoughts and prayers will be with you during your upcoming MD visits!

I love it that you can allow your emotions to come forth unshielded now that you're no longer needing to protect others as in your pastoral role in days gone by. I recall how you helped me when I was meditating about Jo Hafen, seeing her wrapped in a purple blanket as she was dying, and I couldn't understand that color, until you told me it was appropriate - the color of waiting and mourning, I think. You always had insights, my friend, and taught me endlessly.

Be assured that you are much loved for all your gifts so generously bestowed.
Ann

Posted by: Ann Chisolm at March 13, 2005 05:34 PM

I think I became Donel after being in Bellingham a while and deciding to claim my full given name. Earlier in life it was a pain to clarify spelling and pronunciation. Even now, lots of folks in the congregation call me donEL rather than DONel. It's O.K. There aren't too many Donels in the US.

Ann, we think of Jo Hafen often. Marilyn has a cutting from one of Jo's plants which is wintering in our living room at the moment. Recently, a friend gave me a beautiful purple prayer shawl. I use it for meditation and a light cover for napping. It seems appropriate this Lenten Season.

Posted by: Donel at March 13, 2005 09:48 PM

Thank you for those kind words about Dad. He thought so very much of you Donel and your entire family. He would constantly worry when he was in Mt. Baker Care that you would become a resident there. I kept telling him that was not going to happen. I feel that I have a hole in my heart and it will take sometime to heal. It probably will never heal completely.

Now I have two weeks to regain my strength and then on the 29th Mom will be having heart surgery.

I hope the Drs. can give you something to help wih your lack of strength . You are constantly in our prayers.

Posted by: Carol at March 14, 2005 08:43 PM


Dear Donel,
(That doesn't roll off the tongue, or the fingers as the case may be, easily just yet, but I'm working on it).
I have made sure that you are on our prayer chain on a continuing basis and Signe often gives us an update during prayer time in church. I hope the MDs can find the proper medication to boost your energy level because it's no fun to be dragging around.
You and Marilyn can be very proud of your kids and how they have responded to your dance. All three of them have been eloquent in their commentary and delightful to read. You may have left Woodland Hills almost 25 years ago, but you are still teaching us how to live life. Thank you!
Much love to you all, Ruth

Posted by: Ruth Abel at March 17, 2005 01:02 AM

Pastor McClellan,

I just got done reading a portion of your 'blog' and it touched me deeply. My father was diagnosed with lung cancer a little over a year ago. He went through radiation and chemotherapy, and it seemed to go into remission. However, last month, the doctors found another spot on his lung as well as a tumor in his brain. At the end of February, two of my siblings and I flew to Yuma to see him. It was difficult at best to visit him, knowing what the impending results are going to be. Without treatment, he would have about one month; with treatment, he could have as many as 6 months. Knowing that my father is dying is a difficult thing to deal with. But reading your entries helps a lot. Thank you for your courage. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family as you 'dance' this dance.

Posted by: Cynthia at March 28, 2005 02:11 PM
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