Connections with people, places, and concepts present opportunities to reach beyond our boundaries, beyond our capacities, and to be something more, if only for a moment. Then, perhaps as that moment combines with others, we may become that “something more” continually. Peace now gains greater possibilities in our lives.
As someone who has moved around a lot, I have a gift to be happy and at home in quite a few places. I laugh that when speaking English and I am here with you, I call this home. But when I am abroad, with my friends and families, speaking Swedish, that is “hem” (home) to me. It may be confusing for others, but I treasure this gift that allows me to be comfortable and to feel at home wherever I am.
Normally I don’t think of Time as a boundary, but it is. As I think about it, perhaps it is more truly less boundary than permeable membrane. In the Trauma Bay the other evening, I checked on the name of a patient, and realized that she was an old family friend. Literally an old woman but also a friend from long ago. In terms of Time, she has become a distant part of my life. However, in terms of geography, we only lived a few miles down the road from where we inhabited the same world and the same swimming pools.
Time and aging have placed another boundary between us. She has dementia now. Somewhere deep inside, she may remember me as a much younger person, a younger Annie. The woman I am now hasn’t had a place in her life or memory for quite a long time. Yet, I am, if not familiar to her, familiar with her, familiar with things I know are important to her. I had Peace that I thought perhaps I could offer her across the boundaries of time and memory.
This patient is a woman I know. I know who she was as she was becoming who she is now. I know where she grew up, before she met me. In age she is exactly half-way between me and my mother, although she was my mother’s friend. She watched me grow, and I, childish bright butterfly that I was, was busy watching and dreaming about where I might be flitting.
That night in the hospital, however, I could transcend the boundary of time and memory and whisper to her about the picnics we enjoyed together, about her cooking and baking. Back then, I knew what she believed in, what she did, who and how her children were, and what she enjoyed. As I shared these stories, she reconnected with the wonder of remembering her old friends, my parents, but not little Annie. As I talked to her in the presence of staff, who were attending to her, rather than “an old lady,” she became more of who she was and who she is… to herself and to the staff.
As I continue to think about her, oh, wow, how this woman could bake. I reconnected with the taste of her Polish Christmas cookies as they melted into butter and sugar in my mouth. I reconnected with her laugh, her strength, and her passion for her work as a nurse right there in that same hospital. These things were small nuggets of Peace to drop into her mind. We shared these things more than once, they weren’t simply an incident, but a flavor of what her life was like. I understand the Love that she offered me as a child growing into a young adult, Love that helped me become more and more myself, Love that manifested in happiness and pride.
She’s crossed a boundary into another now at this moment, and not always present to that one either. Still, she smiled as I mentioned people she knew and things her family did that gave her joy. My joy was in my voice as I leaned down and spoke in her ear, it was in the story I told the doctor caring for her. In those moments we were connected to one another — whoever I was to her, she trusted the past I offered and the Love. In that time, I was as present as she had room for me to be, a voice in the present, whispering in her ear, connecting her to her past. That had to be enough for me as well.
Leaving her room, I was grateful for the ease I have grown into in situations such as this. I am also grateful for the Love I knew as a child, which taught me to understand the Joy and Connection Love offers. Connection is always important. It’s especially so when there are particular stories to tell of a very sweet part of my past. Stories to tell of this woman who was integral to many of those moments, someone with whom I sat at table and at church on many other occasions. People ask me how I do this work. Connections such as these transcend the boundaries of time and space. This is how. This is why.
Salaam, Shalom, Peace, and Blessed Be!
PS: I saw her again last night as I was leaving. I leaned over and whispered who I was, she reached for my hand, which was cool, and tucked it against her forehead, which was warm, and smiled. Yes, she said. Yes…