I was surprised and delighted when Ellen, a long-time Mansion resident, and John, a pleasant and gentle newcomer, asked me if I could take a picture of them together and get a print for each of them to keep. I did notice them holding hands during our meditations.

It takes courage and feeling for love to break out in the Mansion, I’ve seen it happen two or three times, and it is always beautiful, uplifting, and inspiring. Sometimes it lasts, sometimes not.

It is a courageous thing, an affirmation of life and possibility.

I’ve written many times, and from personal experience, that love can come anytime in one’s life if we are open to it.  Love takes bravery and heart; there is always the risk of rejection, even ridicule, especially for the elderly.

The theme of my talk before meditation class (I’m doubling as pastor and meditation teacher, for now, we had the biggest crowd today, SRO) was Spiritual Courage, which was almost eerily timely.

Sometimes I look up and wonder.

Courage, wrote Henri Nouwen, a Canadian minister whose writings I was reading again to the group, noted that we think Spiritual Courage means crossing the ocean in a rowboat, swimming far out to sea, or climbing to the top of a skyscraper.

“But none of these things come from the center of our being,” he wrote. “They all come from the desire to test our physical limits and become famous and popular.”

Spiritual Courage, I said,  is entirely different. It means following the deepest desires and emotions at the risk of losing something – pride, reputation, safety, popularity.

This courage tests our willingness to give up or risk our temporal gains to find and live a meaningful life.

Moving to the edge of their lives, Helen and John are taking the risk of love, no matter how long it lasts, or what others say about it,  and I gave them my unofficial but heartfelt blessing and congratulations. In a sense, they came out in my class, Ellen said.

We had a wonderful prayer and meditation class once again. We talked about spirituality and what spiritual life means.

Several residents spoke about the need to be gentle and kind; one said it was about “ducking under” all of the bad news and meanness in the world and finding ways to be friendly, to do good.

We meditated for eight minutes. At the end of each session, people often come up to me and ask for the necessary things. Sometimes I have to say no, but most often, I can say yes, sure.

Debbie, a regular at my meetings, finally admitted that she couldn’t walk around barefoot all the time; it was hurting her feet. She asked for a size eight slipper. One is on the way.

 

John asked for a pair of sneakers that could be tied. He didn’t want one of those velcro sneakers for people who can’t bend over. He can, he assured me, bend over. His tied sneakers are on the way. My philosophy is to get new things clean and well-made at the lowest price.

Ruth asked for a photograph of Red taken with her (I don’t have one in my library) and some bubble gum. That’s on the way.

She asked about red summer pajamas.  I reminded her I bought several for her last summer; maybe she could check and see if they were still in her closet.

Of course, I would get them a print, I told John and Ellen.

I felt excellent about today’s meeting. Love is a great gift when it shows up at the Mansion; it lifts the residents too and reminds them it is possible. And the meditation idea has caught on. They feel calm and centered at a difficult time in their lives. They do their deep and slow breathing and keep upping the length of the meditations.

Claudia said it helps her to go to sleep when she does it at night.

John came over smiling, he has diabetes, and he knows I am a diabetic. He is also a pretty heavy smoker, and we talked about that.

I never tell anybody there what to do or lecture them; I just said to him that my cardiologist is pretty sure my Open  Heart Surgery was caused partly by having been a heavy smoker until I was 33.

I said diabetes could be rough on smokers; it was, after all, a circulation disease. He didn’t know that. I left it there. I said I’d be happy to talk about it with him if he ever decided to do that.

He took it in. Ellen was listening to the story too, and carefully. I know Ellen well; we are good friends. She is sweet and strong.  At one point, she was lonely and asked for lifelike baby dolls.

They seemed a friendly match.

I have to think more about Spiritual Courage. I think it was there in the room.