Advice from a Bubonic Plague survivor...

A friend of mine posted the following quote on her page. It is from Martin Luther, during the reformation period of European history. I am re-posting it here because I believe this is quality advice for my personal response to the contemporary scene.

Martin Luther’s advice, 

made during the time of the bubonic plague:

I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance inflict and pollute others and so cause their death as a result of my negligence. If God should wish to take me, he will surely find me and I have done what he has expected of me and so I am not responsible for either my own death or the death of others. If my neighbor needs me however I shall not avoid place or person but will go freely as stated above. See this is such a God-fearing faith because it is neither brash nor foolhardy and does not tempt God.1

Martin Luther in a letter to Rev. Dr. John Hess, found in Luther’s Works, Volume 43 (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1968), 132.

To see more of my friend's post - check it out here: From <https://reasons.org/explore/blogs/theorems-theology/read/theorems-theology/2020/04/09/bringing-hope-to-the-covid-19-days-ahead?fbclid=IwAR1B281ot0JMBSPm9h-pKAzvicnIQ0QHoAA5bFuJnloUZUa2s0445tZBQK4>

Re-post from July 25, 2015: Dateline -Acadia National Park

A theme dominant this week has little hint of enthusiasm. Actually, sadness characterizes this series of events which I will summarize by retelling the story of my interactions with one individual. 

Over my first weeks of service as a shuttle driver, my shift settled into the morning runs as well as a mid-day run back and forth from apartments in the north to the Pond House in the south. Second run soon became one I looked forward to because I met Josh, with whom it didn't take long to engender a friendship, us both enjoying the gift of gab. As the EDR (Employee Dining Room) cook, he came in midmorning to set up lunch and dinner for the employees. He was chipper at first and we became quick conversationalists since the run held maybe two other younger people, who didn't climb in as quickly as Josh -who took shot-gun - and immediately began to chat. I discovered he was from Minnesota - a welcomed connection. He was living in Whitefish, Montana and had served in Glacier Park a decade ago -another connection. He enjoyed country music, loved to canoe -having stories of the Minnesota Boundary Waters, and when not canoeing, couldn't get enough of the outdoors and wilderness through hiking and camping. He indicated he was a believer; he actually had a degree in Biblical studies and had served in churches in Minnesota in his early 20's. 

So, we had a lot in common which made our rides each morning rich and entertaining. Until early last week. Something happened, I'm not sure what. He was coming to work sullen, erratic, and not his usual 'self.' Earlier he had explained his physical ailments and a condition involving seizures, thus his inability to drive anywhere. Medication typically stabilized things, he said, but it was nevertheless unpredictable. So as he persisted daily to arrive a bit later, a bit more incoherent, I worried that Josh hadn't got his meds right. In talking, he brushed it off as being overtired, saying his meds kept him up at night and he was getting very little sleep. I thought nothing of it, but took note he had increased his smoking, his eyes were dark and his conversation limited to answering when spoken to.

Then Friday last week, he was needing an early ride home from the EDR. I was surprised but accommodated him since I had to return for the mid-day run anyway. Turns out he was sent home. He had alcohol on his breath, and reluctantly he revealed his demise: he was a recovering alcoholic, who had been 'dry' for 5 months before coming to Acadia. But being here among so many who drank, he found himself slipping back into old habits, and was heading to the hospital to spend a weekend in detox. Many times before he had gone through this sequence. Discouraged with himself, he recounted to me self loathing, disappointing his family and friends and the Lord, his inability to control his drinking and his worry that it would affect his job here and ultimately his marriage (- yes he was married to a girl working now in Phoenix, Arizona, where Josh intended to join her after his contract ended here, having made enough money to finance a move.) I dropped him at his apartment where he assured me he would catch the "Island Explorer" shuttle into Bar Harbor and make the 5-minute hike to the hospital. I was wrapped in concern and emotionally laden with the sense to pray for this man.

Praying over the weekend, I hoped to see Josh Monday. Since I had to run the shuttle Sunday morning, I overheard the employees mentioning Josh sleeping in and having Sundays off they weren't worried for him. Surprised that he would be home already from his stay -- I took note of their words and again prayed. Monday, I did not see Josh on the mid-morning run. Tuesday came and Josh again was not on the mid-morning run. I was worried his comment about going to the hospital was fabricated; his alcoholism was taking over his life again. The whole trip I was in concerned silence, not knowing what to pray about, but knowing Josh needed prayer, and possibly more. He did show up for the late run. He stated that his stay in the hospital was 'good,' and they provided him with additional medication, but that it was making him extremely sleepy.

When I dropped him at the EDR he was late in prep - not only because of his drop-off time, but the kitchen was left in shambles from the weekend crew's negligence. It was as though this time he was in over his head concerning his work's requirement. Wednesday morning came and went without Josh -until the late morning run - when he came out -looking completely haggard and asked if I could help him mail some packages - both with a ride to a post office and some cash to pay for the boxes. When I returned to pick him up later that morning, he was nowhere to be found. Again, concern was turning to despair as I contemplated all this meant. The afternoon cooks said he had been fired that morning. 

He came out and got in the van for this mid-day trip to the Pond House, with the boxes. He looked like death warmed over. I delivered the afternoon cooks to their work and asked why he wasn't working today. He said he had been let go due to his seizures and sickness (no mention of alcohol or addiction). So we then headed to the Seal Harbor post office. I paid for his 2 priority mail medium shipments. We got in the van and headed back. I commented on his appearance and asked if he needed anything. He asked for a ride into town and $15 to buy a few groceries and fill a prescription on his insurance plan that wouldn't be much. I hesitated, but in the end, I took him to the grocery store in Bar Harbor. He said he'd ride the Island Explorer back, so I didn't wait for him to return with his groceries and prescription. It was already an hour past my quitting time, and I needed to get back to do my chores at home. "I should have stayed," is what I said to myself the next day, and again on Friday, when I did not see Josh again. His promise to pay me back on payday didn't happen. I am in anguish over a budding friendship that I possibly had let him down through enabling without presence. 

Could my staying to bring him back from town been a key to accountability and an act of friendship that would turn into a healing process? I won't know but am left to wonder. Note to self: when the opportunity arises to risk for friendship - take the risk. It's the godly thing to do, not just the friendly thing to do. Wow. A learning curve with consequences felt by others. THAT is a heavy thought; a bitter pill to swallow -especially at such an age as I am. If I was 20-something taking in this 'lesson,' I might have more life to experience opportunities. No matter, though. I expect I will have more even now - the question remains whether I will act in accordance with my discovery. Hopefully, further posts will provide insight into this journey.

The silent ones

I scooped up one more shovel of snow to finish off the walk before the thought came to me. The first 26 years of life I lived under the sweltering humidity and scorching heat of west-central Florida. Here, 34 years later, I’m actually enjoying the 24 degree, snow-covered setting of upstate New York. I smiled at my realization as I climbed back into the cab of my F250. I’m headed to the next widow’s home to plow out the driveway.

In some ways there is little difference between the two eras.

My brother and I grew up around senior citizens who appreciated us being able to help them with odd jobs. We got a lot of positive vibes from the things we did. Between Boy Scout service projects, church youth car washes, and our lawn business, I got a keen sense of satisfaction from helping others.

I think the clincher came when I was only 12 years old.

Before the first day of Junior High School I was called into the offices for a chat with the Principal and the school counselor. I was scared to death! Was it something I had done already?

Thankfully the reason I was called in was not what I had done, but what I was about to be asked to do. Apparently, I had the same exact schedule as a boy who was legally blind.

The request was simple enough: allow this kid to shadow me throughout the days ahead as school began. We would have lockers next to each other, the same Phys Ed class, the same homeroom, and every class in between. We would walk the same hallways. As a plus, we would be allowed to exit classes early to walk the halls and gain a sense of each day's path.

When the Counselor stated the boy's name, my heart relaxed. I knew this kid!  Ray was in my Boy Scout troop and we had been together for a year already. We met a few days before school started and walked the halls, found our lockers and classrooms. Being prepared in this way at least eliminated one part of our trepidation.

I had little understanding, however, of what this assignment really meant until school actually started.

Administrators were concerned about the logistics. We quickly discovered logistics was the least of our worries. Stigma is the word that comes to mind as I recall those first days. Ray was an outcast from the get-go. Only hours into our first day and it was clear I had a choice to make. Was I going to just go through the motions of assisting him? Or was I going to be what he needed: a friend and advocate?

I really struggled with this role. There were kids I felt I wanted to impress, and being a friend to Ray meant the opposite - or at least I thought so. There were days I had to stick up for him, talk down a group of boys making fun of him, ignore the girls laughing at us as he walked behind me in the crowded hallway like I was his bodyguard. That year was a turning point. My heart softened. There was something about Ray's vulnerability that pulled out the champion in me. I became much more aware of those who live along the margins.

So when I graduated from college and Seminary, my days in church ministry and public education were oriented with compassion toward those who didn't fit in. I think I actually lost a job because I wasn't really interested in promoting a youth culture of popularity. Rather, I sought the outcast to minister to. I learned that doing what is right isn't always popular. And it isn't always profitable. But to stand with them is no less valuable and important.

Someone has to speak for the silent ones.