Vulnerability

A close friend of Claire shared this brief quote from Nouwen. Apparently it was one they shared with one another.

Vulnerable, Like a Bird

Life is precious. Not because it is unchangeable, like a diamond, but because it is vulnerable, like a little bird. To love life means to love its vulnerability, asking for care, attention, guidance, and support. Life and death are connected by vulnerability. The newborn child and the dying elder both remind us of the preciousness of our lives. Let's not forget the preciousness and vulnerability of life during the times we are powerful, successful, and popular. (From Bread for the Journey)

Perhaps that is the most difficult part of grief. I feel so vulnerable. Shaken. Fragile. Raw. But it sounds like Nouwen is counseling us to accept this -- possibly even embrace it as the most genuine place we can be. This is certainly, as the Celtic saying goes, a "thin place"...

The Celts believed that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller. A thin place is where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to receive a glimpse of the glory of God. So I am strangely comforted here. And deeply sad at the same time -- I think my soul is sensing the tension of living in both worlds.

As these days "after Claire" unfold, I drag my feet. I don't want to move on. But I can't stand still either. Mourning is so complicated. Lauren Winner, whom I have quoted in some earlier posts, puts it this way, regarding the first month after death:

It is the edging back to worldly concerns and quotidian rhythms after the intense cocoon of shiva [the first week of mourning]. During this time, mourner may return to waiting tables or taking depositions or folding laundry or prowling the farmers' market. But she avoids large parties and celebrations and musical performances...

This will sound ridiculous, but the little song that run through my head as I just need to get going is the one Dory sang in Little Nemo: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming..." We all have to just put one foot in front of the other, right?!

Regardless of how each day goes, I am grateful for a fresh sense of God's presence in the midst of each one. I will admit that that is what the thin places afford us:

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.

Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD. (Psalm 27:13-14)

Legacy

(Claire is pictured with several of her beloved colleagues from Santa Barbara High)

Being back at school this week was especially poignant for me as I still reel with so many of you in losing Claire. Working with students was always a point of connection for Claire and I. We worked together for years in youth ministry -- I even had her work with me one summer as an intern, running our little start-up jr high ministry at the time.

In June 2000 we were going to take on 10 girls together as small group leaders -- she had worked with them through jr high, and I was going to join her as this group had grown. But two weeks before we got to do that, she had her first seizure and the rest, as they say, is history.

I went on to have one of the nuttier weeks of my life at camp that year (note to self: NEVER try to be the counselor for ten incoming high school freshman girls by yourself). We were already traumatized by the shock of Claire's new diagnosis, and let's be honest, that age group is already one walking ball of emotions, so it was Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, to say the least.

Claire tried to join us later that year, but the ordeal of recovery proved to be too much for her, on top of trying to maintain her teaching career. Sadly, she had to pull out of youth ministry -- but went on to give everything she had to teaching.

This week I received a lovely email from a colleague of mine regarding Claire. It's such a small world -- this woman, with whom I now work at Providence Hall, had Claire as her master teacher when she was getting her teaching credential. Here are some of her memories of Claire:

What i would want people to know about Claire is that I think teaching brought out her true essence. Claire never pushed her beliefs on anyone, but loved those kids so much that Christ shined through her. Whenever I talk to people about Claire, I tell them how lucky was to have her as a master teacher. She took kids that other teachers had given up on and found a way to make class fun. She genuinely cared about helping them succeed, and they respected her for it. Claire was a model teacher. As long as I've been teaching, I've thought of her as the type teacher I aspire to be like, and I know there are past students of hers, future teachers, who will do the same.

I want to honor Claire's memory and note the power of her life upon mine by considering these words. As I continue as a teacher and youthworker, I want the same sort of things said about me. In my consulting with churches and pastors, we always spend time discussing the principle of how to "begin with the end in mind." In other words, we should live our lives NOW as we want to be remembered. Claire did that. I want to do that too. That is a life of integrity -- being who I say I am.

Russell Smelley, a dear friend who has suffered profound loss, passed these words, among many, on to me last week:

We tend to deal with death in the same manner as we deal with our daily lives. Grieving can take many forms, but it seems to conform to our personality and life experiences; nonetheless we grieve. We need to learn to live life well because we are going to die. We tend to be fearful people but we can learn to live not in fear but in the hope of God's grace. We have a particular amount of time on earth as our days are numbered and known only by God. Peace comes with accepting the reality of our imminent demise.

May we lean heavily on Christ as we live our "pre-lives" now, in preparation for our "real lives" in eternity. Let's push each other to live lives of truth, beauty, grace, and bravery. These words compel me:

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. (1 John 4:16-18)

No fear.

Saying Goodbye, Saying Hello

If Monday's reading from Henri Nouwen was eerie, today's is downright uncanny:

When we lose a dear friend, someone we have loved deeply, we are left with a grief that can paralyse us emotionally for a long time. People we love become part of us. Our thinking, feeling and acting are co-determined by them: Our fathers, our mothers, our husbands, our wives, our lovers, our children, our friends ... they are all living in our hearts. When they die a part of us has to die too. That is what grief is about: It is that slow and painful departure of someone who has become an intimate part of us. When Christmas, the new year, a birthday or anniversary comes, we feel deeply the absence of our beloved companion. We sometimes have to live at least a whole year before our hearts have fully said good-bye and the pain of our grief recedes. But as we let go of them they become part of our "members" and as we "re-member" them, they become our guides on our spiritual journey.

These Bible passages on friendship flesh things out even more for me, and undergird what Nouwen says:

Friends love through all kinds of weather,
and families stick together in all kinds of trouble. (Proverbs 17:17)

Friends come and friends go,
but a true friend sticks by you like family. (Proverbs 18:24)

By yourself you're unprotected.
With a friend you can face the worst.
Can you round up a third?
A three-stranded rope isn't easily snapped. (Ecclesiastes 4:12)

Again, we rejoice and we weep at losing Claire's dear, earnest friendship. Know that this loss will not fade quickly -- and that is a good thing. It shows us that her impact was full and far-reaching. We learned about what it means to be a friend from her. As the wounds settle a bit, we can reach out to others more, and live on with integrity and compassion. God will use this time to shape us, if we receive it.

Sitting Together

Based on the volume of messages I've received in these last few days about Claire, it's clearer to me than ever that she lived a loving and generous life. We're all sort of lost right now. It's amazing that even though we knew this was coming, it is still so disorienting.

We know we have to find the right things to cling to in the midst of our grief. Today these verses communicate that reality most acutely to me:

¹ Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.

² From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

³ For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe.

⁴ I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. (Psalm 61:1-4)

Earlier this week I quoted Lauren Winner from a book titled Mudhouse Sabbath. In this book Winner, a Christian who converted from Orthodox Judaism, reflects on the spiritual practices of her Jewish history and observes them anew through a Christian lens. More importantly, she invites us as Christians to learn from these ancient practices in powerful ways.

The chapter on mourning has always struck me the most. The opening words perhaps put some of our collective pain into words:

Church funerals, when they tell the truth, not only remember lovingly the lives of the departed, they also preach the gospel -- they proclaim that Jesus is risen, and insist that those who died in Him shall be risen too. What churches often do less well is grieve. We lack a ritual for the long and tiring process that is sorrow and loss.

Amen to that. The chapter goes on to describe to describe the longer spiritual practice of lament. I will not attempt to post it all. But I surely recommend it.

One of the practices that she mentions that is most fascinating to me is that of sitting shiva, where friends of the family gather and sit with them, not saying much, but not allowing them to be alone either. I wonder how that works for all of us as we are now separated, scattered back to our homes after the memorial.

One thought I have is that we could share precious things from our individual relationships with Claire. For example, in this last week one of Claire's college friends sent me, of her own accord, a treasured recipe that Claire had given to her in the past. I think it would be dear to share it with you as well.

And if you have something -- a photo, a memory, an experience, a keepsake, a recipe! -- that you would want to share, send it to my email (kelly.soifer@gmail.com). We'll see -- if it's a worthwhile exercise, great. If not, that is perfectly fine as well.

But here is a recipe from Claire. We ache with loss, and celebrate the beauty of her friendship and love.

Sicilian Sfincione (Sicilian peasant neopolitan pizza)
Submitted by Claire Carey

Note from Brooke: I think it may have come during our last semester at Westmont, and it has been a staple recipe for our family. It's very forgiving as far as the toppings go, because you can do whatever you like. It's also a great recipe to make with kids :)

Topping:
2 lbs. tomatoes
2 cloves garlic
2 small onions, chopped
1 tsp. salt
Scant 1/4 cup olive oil

Pizza Dough
Pinch of sugar
1-1/4 cups warm milk
2 pkgs. of active dry yeast
4 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 egg
3 oz. pitted ripe olives chopped
2 tsps. dried oregano
mozzarella and parmesan cheese

To make topping, peel and chop tomatoes. Combine tomatoes garlic onion and salt and olive oil in a large bowl. Cover and set aside. Flavor will improve while mixture stands.

To make pizza dough, stir sugar into warm milk and sprinkle with yeast. Let stand five minutes or until the surface is frothy. Stir gently to moisten any dry particles remaining on top. Sift flour and salt into large bowl. Lightly beat egg into yeast mixture. Pour into flour mixture, combining to make a dough. On a floured surface, knead dough until smooth and springy, 5 to 10 minutes. Cover and let rise in a warm place 25 minutes.

Brush baking sheets with oil. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. On a floured surface lightly knead risen dough; divide into 4 to 6 pieces. Roll out pieces into individual rounds; place on oiled baking sheets. Top each round with tomato mixture, scatter olives, oregano, cheese and any other desired pizza toppings. Bake 20 minutes or until edges are brown.

Quality

I have mentioned here previously that I receive a daily passage in my email from the Henri Nouwen Society. Today's reading is downright eerie:

It is very hard to accept an early death. When friends die who are seventy, eighty, or ninety years old, we may be in deep grief and miss them very much, but we are grateful that they had long lives. But when a teenager, a young adult, or a person at the height of his or her career dies, we feel a protest rising from our hearts: "Why? Why so soon? Why so young? It is unfair."

But far more important than our quantity of years is the quality of our lives. Jesus died young. St. Francis died young. St. Thérèse of Lisieux died young, Martin Luther King, Jr., died young. We do not know how long we will live, but this not knowing calls us to live every day, every week, every year of our lives to its fullest potential.

As I consider going back to "real life" today after the experience of the last week or so, I pause and blink. It feels daunting. But when I read this, this passage immediately came to mind:

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your joy in Christ Jesus will overflow on account of me. Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. (Philippians 1:21-27)

As Claire's life witnessed to us, the only way we can persevere through the heavy burdens of this "transitory life" (2 Corinthians 4:18, JB Phillips version) is by doing this:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:1-3)

We will still be sad, we will walk with a limp... but we will move forward gently and persistently. If we are still here, it is because apparently we still have work to do. Do not deny the weight of grief on your spirit. Come to God in your brokenness and pain. You don't have to gut your way through it. He is enough. He will carry you.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

Photos from Claire's Memorial Service, 8/20/10

I asked Greg Lawler to take some photos at the memorial service. Greg took the photo we used on the cover of the program and for her obituaries. I am grateful for his sensitive, lovely work.

Today started quietly and slowly for me. I am glad I went to church today -- it was a safe place to keep walking through these fresh days without dear Claire. Judaism has a longer practice of bereavement than most Christians traditionally do. One of my favorite authors, Lauren Winner, puts it this way:

[The Jewish pattern of bereavement] recognizes the slow way that mourning works, the long time it takes a grave to cool, slower and longer than our zip-zoom Internet-and-fast-food society can easily accommodate. Long after your friends and acquaintances have stopped paying attention, after they have forgotten to ask how you are and pray for you and hold your hand, you are still in a place of ebbing sadness. Mourning plateaus gradually...

I will be patient, and remember to "help others help me" if I am discouraged and burdened. Like Claire did, let's find comfort in the prayers of the Bible. Today I see Psalm 145 as poignant:

¹⁴ The Lord helps the fallen
and lifts those bent beneath their loads.
¹⁵ The eyes of all look to you in hope;
you give them their food as they need it.
¹⁶ When you open your hand,
you satisfy the hunger and thirst of every living thing.
¹⁷ The Lord is righteous in everything he does;
he is filled with kindness.
¹⁸ The Lord is close to all who call on him,
yes, to all who call on him in truth.
¹⁹ He grants the desires of those who fear him;
he hears their cries for help and rescues them.
²⁰ The Lord protects all those who love him,
but he destroys the wicked.

²¹ I will praise the Lord,
and may everyone on earth bless his holy name
forever and ever.

Photos from the memorial service, Aug 20, 2010

Claire Memorial Service Slideshow

Words cannot express the depths of sorrow and the heights of joy we rode today in our memorial service for Claire. As we said today at church, we had the unique honor of participating in a service that Claire designed herself in her last weeks of life on this earth. She wanted to give her friends and family one more gift. Isn't that incredible?

It is my understanding that we hope to be able to post links to an audio and video recording of the time for those who weren't able to be there. But for now, we do have a link for the slideshow (see below).

I cherished the many conversations I had today with those who knew and loved Claire. Time and again I heard of how special she made each of us feel. I do hope we can keep sharing those -- it will help us as we work through our grief in the weeks and months ahead.

I shared a message at the service, and here were my concluding words. Let's build on these memories, and rejoice at a life well-lived:

Claire had integrity; she was who she said she was. And who she was was a woman deeply in love with her Lord. We saw Him clearly alive in her life. So we do mourn the loss of Claire Michelle Carey today. And we wish she was still here with us... but even more, I think we wish we were with her, free and whole.

CLAIRE CAREY MEMORIAL SLIDESHOW