freedom to sing.

a man who had been at joseph's house for about a month and a half began to really decline at the end of last week, or actively die as we call it. his breathing shifted, he stopped responding, he was unable to eat or drink. a man who was able to come to us to spend his final days instead of returning to prison, he was both lovely and hard to work with. he loved holding hands and the simple joy of sitting and sharing a meal together. but he was also in a lot of pain and had experienced a lot of trauma, and so even a small thing like changing his pamper sometimes took an hour and a half. he taught me a lot about patience and love, and i am so grateful for his friendship. one time as we were changing him, i asked him to give me a hug, as that was an easier way to turn him on his side. he looked up at me, smiled, and gave me a huge hug, which was so beautiful. then i said, "ok, time to turn." "what??!" he replied, surprised, "you tricked me!" i thought he may get angry, but he just started to laugh, until we were all laughing. another time, he asked what he thought people would think if we could walk down the street together, a black man and a white girl. i told him i didn't care, and that it would be nice. he told me he wished we could have been friends in high school. that would have been great, i replied. we've both been on such different paths, but what a gift to share friendship in this moment.

as i sat with him on monday night, alone in the house, i felt the sacredness and the beauty of that moment, and i felt suddenly completely free to be with him however felt right to both him and me. i typically sit at the bedside in silence, knowing that even silent presence can be meaningful. but because i knew my friend and felt comfortable in myself, i felt free to use my voice in being with him. i knew he was a man of great faith, and so i just started singing to him whatever hymns came to mind. after half an hour of singing by myself, i picked up his bible and read some of his and my favorite passages out loud. just about half an hour after this, my friend took his last breath. i was able to bathe him with patty, playing "i believe i can fly" softly as we opened a window and lit a candle. i felt sad and grateful. i don't know when i'd felt so comfortable and free to be me and be with another for a long time. i received such a gift in that, and i pray he felt comfort and love in those last moments as well.

i realize that sitting at the bedside with another is a rare experience for most of us and is clearly a privileged, sacred moment. but what would it look like if i felt that freedom in all my interactions with others, to be fully myself and fully open to the other person, wherever they are coming from? what if i felt that comfort to sing, to affirm, to speak or to be silent, in all my relationships? i think that i and we sometimes spend so much time worrying about how others perceive us or will perceive us that we lose the freedom to be fully ourselves and fully present to others. and as i learn more and more fully the truth that i am beloved and precious as i am, and that we are all beloved and precious, i believe that this freedom to be will flow more fully. i want to live more in this freedom, this freedom to sing, whoever i'm with and wherever i am.