THE CHICKEN AND THE TIGHTROPE! Several years ago, while vacationing, I spotted an advertisement for a show at a nearby water park. The sign read: āCome and See the Chicken Walk the Tightrope.ā Now, as you can imagine, I just had to attend. I wonāt go into details except to say there was a small pond with a tightrope stretched over top from one pole to another. After a certain amount of fanfare, the performer came out with a chicken he introduced to the crowd. He told us the chicken didnāt want to walk the rope, nevertheless the bird would. He placed the chicken on the rope and gave it a push out over the water. Naturally, the chicken tried to turn around, but the trainer pushed it along the rope with a broom. Each time the chicken tried to turn, he was brushed across the tightrope as the man rode underneath in a rowboat. The poor chicken had no choice and within a few minutes fluttered down on the other side of the pond. Everyone applauded, the trainer picked up the bird and handed him off to a young boy who trotted away toward the chicken coop. That was it for the bird, who, scared to death, and pushed ahead by a broom, made it to the other side. This story is very much like the last 24 hours in our life. My 95 year old Aunt has been living in a Nursing Home upstate in Wellsboro. Within the past ten days or so she has been unable to eat, accompanied by some type of Bronchitis. She has lost an inordinate amount of weight and probably now weighs somewhere in the middle 70ās. Sue and I have been debating whether to go up and see her but the reports from her son seemed encouraging and we decided to put off our visit for a week or so. Last evening I spoke with her son, my cousin, and he said his Mother is now on Hospice and actively dying. He asked me to call the Supervising Nurse, who told me she felt Aunt Fran was waiting for us to come up before Changing Addresses. Oh-oh! How can we possibility go? Two dogs to house along with a bird, I was to lead a Hospice Support Group this morning and a Menās Group tonight. For three weeks I had tried to schedule a lunch date with a good friend and his wife. We managed to settle on today, and I was going to have to change it, again. I was like the chicken on the tightrope and the broom was brushing. There was a call to the kennels and an understanding manager. Another call to a great Hospice Nurse who took care of Support, and a friend who said, āWeāll find another date.ā A group of men who all said, āDrive carefully.ā The kids jumped inā¦ the bird went for a vacation early this morningā¦. and the man with the broom kept brushing. Soā¦ here we are in Wellsboro, having spent the past several hours sitting with my Aunt, who is asking to die. Here we are trying to tell her how much she has meant to us, and I find myself talking between sobs. Here we are in the middle of the tightrope looking for words of assurance to this 95 year old woman, who has spent her entire life in grace. Here we are as I hold the phone for my sister to talk to her, and tell her good by. My arms aches as I listen to my sister say, āI feel like i need to get in the car and drive up,ā and My Aunt takes care of her by saying no, and then gives her a blessing. āIām so glad youāve retired.ā The broom was really brushing by dinner time. As we left tonight with the promise we would see her in the morning, she said to me, āI donāt want a funeral, Mont.ā I had known that but I repeated it back to her, and added, āJust a graveside service, I understand.ā She tried to nod with her eyes closed, and then said, āIn nice weather.ā Sue and I walked to the car both amazed at how she was taking care of everyone by making sure we didnāt have to stand in a cemetery in the cold. The man had brushed us across the wire. We flopped down on the other side and went to my motherās old house to bed. The Universe, or God, or the Great Pumpkin, or the Man whos sweeps a Chicken across the tightrope opened doors for us so that we could sit by my Aunt who held me when I was a baby, housed me when I needed a safe place, and wintered with us as she aged. God be with her in this next part of her journey, is my prayer. My Lament for tonight is lossā¦ a natural part of life we either accept or find ourself pushed across the Tightrope.
Posted on: Fri, 23 Jan 2015 01:21:05 +0000
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