Journeys within journeys

Photograph DavidK-Oregon

If the whole of our life is one journey, with many forks in the path, perhaps it’s easier to focus on the annual shorter journey of Lent, which begins today with Ash Wednesday.

Forty days of following in the footsteps of Christ. What does it mean? If we find it difficult to do for forty days, how can we do it for a lifetime? Probably only one way: by putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again.

Today I saw several people on that path. I went to hospital to be with my brother, PJ, who had to have a couple of teeth out under general anaesthetic.

PJ has Down’s Syndrome, which has been complicated over the last few years by dementia. We’ve watched him turn from a funny, chatty, lively guy with a reasonably independent life to an old man with a vacant stare who shouts a lot and has to have others take care of his personal needs. I don’t need to describe it too much, several of you reading this have the same sadness in your lives.

Today, however, was a particularly good day. PJ’s carer, G, wheeled him towards me, and for once PJ recognised me, his face wreathed in smiles. He managed a few words, he looked around him with interest at the other people waiting. He had on his leather jacket from the old days (he was quite a dandy) and G had picked out a new pair of cargo pants plus a smart tweed cap to keep out the cold.

The medical team were sensitive and gentle. They let G and me into the operating room, so we could be with PJ until he was under the anaesthetic. As he slid off to sleep, one of the nurses put her hand on my shoulder and told me not to worry.

Then G and I sat outside and chatted. I hadn’t really talked to him before. He’s worked in PJ’s care home for about eight months but isn’t often on duty when I visit. What a lovely guy; he really cares. He’s young, probably early twenties, and told me he loves looking after PJ because his favourite brother, who was killed a couple of years back, had the same name. He said he can see PJ’s soul shining out of the wreck of his body.

The operation was over quickly and the dental surgeon came and explained to us what she’d done and was very kind. We went into the recovery room where the anaesthetist and nurse kept PJ from banging his head against the wall and chatted with us to reassure us. PJ’s mouth looked sore and bloody, but as he woke up, it didn’t seem to bother him.

After a while PJ was judged fit to go home, G and I got him back into his wheelchair and off we went to meet the minivan transport. And that was the end of our adventure.

I hadn’t intended to write about it in such detail, but it struck me that in every detail of the day there were people caring about each other and treating each other with compassion, and that isn’t a bad start to the journey of Lent.

When a person is on a serious inner journey to his or her own powerlessness and is also in immediate contact with the powerless men and women of the world, then community will result.

Richard Rohr