Gathering the Gleanings: Reflections on Life in the Ministry

Many people think of the cycle of life as experiencing birth, spending time with the people you love (and lots of other things that are personal to them) and ultimately the end our earthly journey. My cycle of life feels backwards to me. Here’s my journey, the ups and the downs.

I finished all my schoolwork, then moved to the United States to earn my Master of Divinity, which I did. However, I also fell in love with a Southerner and got married – that’s where it all starts, setting the stage for what leads me to perceive my life cycle seemingly going backwards.

Joe and I started our first call in ministry. There, I experienced the depths of feelings that come with death. This was primarily at the church we served in Cinnaminson, NJ, and at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP). I held in my hands many times those who were passing into the more immediate presence of Christ. I remember singing our favorite hymns with the family as another passed away peacefully. I remember late at night arriving home at church when a matriarch of the church had passed, and the first formal announcement of one’s death would be to toll the bell for each year of that person’s life. I pulled into the driveway between the parsonage and the church and was amazed that the grandson of the lady who had died was right behind me. This traditionally was one of his roles. I encouraged him to do it in the morning, to take some time. He insisted. I went into the house, and Joe was there to greet me with open arms. Every time the bell tolled, I jumped, and it tolled 90 times. The grandson later told me it was therapeutic for him and I told him it was for me, too.

Those are sadly, not the only hands I held as they passed. At CHOP I held a baby that would soon take their last breath and baptized them. I held many deceased children whose families left, feeling they were leaving them with someone who represented God.

As a pastor, I cared for many people at the end of life. I sang familiar songs that were simple yet ones they knew and would sing along with. I’ll never forget that at a facility where one of the oldest members resided. She wasn’t sure of me. Yet during the week of Christmas, I took a traditional wrapped candle and sang “Morning Star”. She came to me as fast as she could, now knowing I was one of her own. It wasn’t long before she passed. Death seemed to follow me.

About 5-10 years into our marriage, Joe and I decided we were experiencing a call, one that we couldn’t wait to have come to fruition. However, it never came to be. Miscarriage after miscarriage, I carried the longest into our second trimester. Then infertility added to the deep grief that was deep inside us. We endured pain that only those who have experienced this can understand. It seemed like people all around us were having babies. Sometimes they wanted, and people were joyful when they came to me; sometimes they did not want or plan, and I was to help them work through that, too. Then there were the baby showers, baptisms, and the sweet sound of a child in church. All wonderful and special!

We wanted to have a baby (though I realize some choose not to, or never could, and yet you felt pressure from others, and then to constantly hear, “When are you going to have one?”)! It hurts!. So I ask people to be careful what you say to others who don’t have children – there’s a story a personal story behind that.

I thought every time I heard the words “birth pangs” in scripture – Matthew 24:8, Mark 13:8, Romans 8:22, 1 Thessalonians 5:3, and Revelation 12:2. I cringed inside because I thought I would never even know the sound, never mind be in that intimate space. I thought that I did end-of-life care, the journey with people that they took coming near to those last breaths – I thought I did those pretty well. So I thought I had misunderstood God’s call, and that was it.

But then a baby would be born, and the birth mother knew she and her partner could not possibly care for him. On December 21, he was born in the ambulance. It was a wow moment because we got to see them prick his feet, like they do every baby; we held him first and were blessed with our Christmas miracle. It was that year we were gifted with another child, who was 16; she received unconditional love in our home. I’ll never forget the moment she first called me Mom. And then around 15 years later, we were gifted another beautiful daughter because she too needed our home.

Here’s how I believe the circle of life, as many believe it be, was never what we expected it to be, and it hurt. We never heard or witnessed a birth and death in the way the societal circle held onto. Yet, society had it wrong – that’s not everyone’s life. We had a wild, bumpy road.

Until the day our eldest daughter called, I heard her birth pangs from the end of the phone, deep pains crying out. When a moment of silence came, I asked her sweetie, “What can I do?” She said, “I need my mom”! I didn’t think twice, I went to a place in the Virginia mountains, somewhere I’d never been. I arrived to hear hours of her pain. I sat beside her, rubbed her back, and gently touched her head. I saw a baby born; my tears rolled down my face, and awe filled me. I will never forget that moment. Thank you for allowing me to be present for my fourth grandson, who would call me Oma. You are all precious.

Truly, truly, you allowed me to experience something I so longed to be present for. Thank you, Sweetie (and your husband). Thank you!

And no matter what your circle of life looks like, you can always remember that God created you and calls you by name.