Hats off to You!

Friday night, my wife and I went to the volunteer appreciation dinner for an organization call Pathways.  It is a group which is dedicated to providing service to the terminally ill and compassionate support to grieving families. My wife has been serving with them for the better part of a year.  Because of the nature of the support you offer as a volunteer, you do not necessarily see the others who also serve.  This was the first time she saw so many of her fellow workers in one place.

It was a nice evening.  They had a local dance group entertain us.  They served dinner, recognized each volunteer, gave away small tokens of appreciation, and recognized a few who have gone above and beyond the call.

The table where we sat had two other volunteers and their guests.  One was a lady who needs someone to drive her anywhere she goes, but she still serves by going to the hospital and meeting with people and their families who need the support Pathways offers.  She received a volunteer of the year award.  You could tell it meant the world to her.  Even though we only shared a few minutes at a table together, I must confess I was quite proud when they announced her name.  I hoop and hollered on her behalf.  She blushed.  What can I say, you sit at my table, you become my people.

The other volunteer at our table brought, as her guest, the women she serves.  Watching them interact, you could tell there was a significant bond between them.  I will share a bit more about that in a moment, but for now all I can say is, their interaction spoke of a much deeper commitment than simply giving a few hours to help someone in need.  You could tell they shared life, and it was beautiful.

After the awards were all given out, Meg, the woman who coordinates it all, transitioned to a much more poignant part of the program.  It was the time given to recognize those whom they had served who had passed this last year.  She mentioned the honor my wife had of being present with the women she served as the lady made the journey from this life to the next.  She acknowledge this is not the everyone’s experience by mentioning another volunteer who left the person they cared for in good health, only to find they had passed two days later.  No matter what the circumstances was at the end, they wanted to take a few moments to remember those they had served, and loved.

Because last year the candles set off the fire alarm in the venue, Pathways decided to have vases where flowers would be placed, representing each life which was lost.  Meg then read off each name.  There were 22 clients who died this last year.  It was powerful to watch each caregiver make their way to the table, select a flower, and then place it in the vase.  It was especially so when the name of the lady my wife served was called, and she got up to take part in honoring Neva.

A few moments later, the lady who was sitting across the table from us, who had brought the women she serves, stood at the reading of a name.  She walked forward, placed a flower in a vase and then made her way back to our table.  When she arrived she bent down and hugged her guest.  It was the wife of the man whose name was read.  Their embrace was one which spoke of a shared journey through the pain of watching someone you love take the hard road home.  It also spoke of their shared commitment to walk the next stage of life together.  It was a privilege to sit so close and watch this sacred moment.

James tells us in his epistle, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”  By orphans and widows, I think he means those who do not have the ability to care for themselves and who do not have the family to step in the gap.  I have a feeling he would not mind one bit if we expanded the definition to include the terminally ill who find themselves with the same need.  What I witnessed in that room was religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless.  Witnessing it, the pollution of this self-centered world seemed so very far away.

You might notice in the picture some pretty colorful hats.  The theme for the evening was "Hats off to You," and to make it fun, we were asked to wear our favorite hat.  I did not wear a hat (rebellious from my youth, what can I say), but this fact in no way diminishes my desire to take my hat off to these people for their willingness to give far more than a few hours a week.  They invest their lives. They willingly enter into a stage of life which promises much joy, but which also promises the reality of loss and the pain which accompanies it.  They give selflessly and in the process they impart much value to the people they serve.  They are a gift, and their lives are a example to us all.

I take my hat off to them.