“When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom
Let It Be
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me speaking words of wisdom
Let It Be......
There will be an answer let it be.”
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Speech at African Methodist Episcopal Convention
Hello everyone, first I just want to thank you for you’re your donations, it is much appreciated and much needed. My name is Claudine and I am a volunteer at an AIDS hospice, I’m on the schedule for mornings twice a week, but I tend to be there a lot more than that, I’ve come to think of the house as a second home. Most people would find that strange since the house is a residential AIDS hospice, but despite being an AIDS hospice it is filled with love and joy. Yes Joy! Sadness and loss is a given, but the hospice is not defined by it’s losses, but rather illuminated by the dedication and quiet strength of all the staff and volunteers who give so willingly and care so deeply for all it’s residents.
Our mission is to meet the physical, emotional, and spiritual needs of those affected by HIV/AIDS through compassionate health care and social services. We turn no one away. Again, we turn NO ONE AWAY, regardless of race, religion, or sexual preference, we fight! We fight everyday for those who are unable to fight; we are a voice for all the voices that have been silenced by this disease. Sadly, despite strong efforts, HIV/AIDS has taken a stronghold on the South and refuses to let go. In 2005 AIDS was the 4th leading cause of death for black men and the third leading cause for black women ages 25-44.
I don’t want to stand here a quote statistics to you, I’m sure we all know what the new face of AIDS looks like, but do we know who is leading the fight against this disease that is decimating our community. Who is giving their time and reaching out to the community, not only about prevention but after. After infection, who’s taking care of the sick and dying.
My grandfather was a minister and a missionary in Haiti. When AIDS first came to the already battered island where I was born, he was one of the first to go and help the sick, the infected men, women, and children.
He had a church, a congregation both in Haiti and Los Angeles, I didn’t understand why he subjected himself and his family to watch as so many died in unimaginable misery, but he always believed and said,
“The church always leads the way.”
He could not ask of his congregation what he was not willing to do, so he led by example and slowly others followed. The church always leads the way…..
I give my heart and dedication to the residents at the hospice, I bathe them, I feed them, I fix their beds, do their laundry, hold their hands, laugh and cry with them, but that is my choice. Not all the volunteers are as involved as I am, some come and clean, some help maintain the gardens, and others come and prepare meals. But it saddens me as the house is mainly filled with black residents that there are so few black volunteers or outreach groups that offer their time, whether it is cooking a meal once a month, or sending in a group to help clean and make beds, so the residents know they’re not forgotten.
Our children are dying, they’re babies, they’re so young and it breaks my heart, I can’t even begin to explain how hard it is to watch them die when their life is barely lived. By the time they come to the hospice it’s already too late, but don’t we owe it to them and to ourselves, to at least let our presence be felt, seen, and heard.
Mother Theresa once said that AIDS victims are God in a hideous disguise and if you look into their eyes you’ll see Jesus. I’ve looked into their eyes and I understand. Jesus was a champion of the poor, the sick, the unwanted, the oppressed, the abandoned and forgotten. Does that not describe many people living with HIV/AIDS today? They are at the hospice because they have no where else to go and the hospice cannot survive without the help of the community.
And Jesus said, “Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me- you did it to me.”
Again, thank you for remembering us today and thank you for your time.
Our mission is to meet the physical, emotional, and spiritual needs of those affected by HIV/AIDS through compassionate health care and social services. We turn no one away. Again, we turn NO ONE AWAY, regardless of race, religion, or sexual preference, we fight! We fight everyday for those who are unable to fight; we are a voice for all the voices that have been silenced by this disease. Sadly, despite strong efforts, HIV/AIDS has taken a stronghold on the South and refuses to let go. In 2005 AIDS was the 4th leading cause of death for black men and the third leading cause for black women ages 25-44.
I don’t want to stand here a quote statistics to you, I’m sure we all know what the new face of AIDS looks like, but do we know who is leading the fight against this disease that is decimating our community. Who is giving their time and reaching out to the community, not only about prevention but after. After infection, who’s taking care of the sick and dying.
My grandfather was a minister and a missionary in Haiti. When AIDS first came to the already battered island where I was born, he was one of the first to go and help the sick, the infected men, women, and children.
He had a church, a congregation both in Haiti and Los Angeles, I didn’t understand why he subjected himself and his family to watch as so many died in unimaginable misery, but he always believed and said,
“The church always leads the way.”
He could not ask of his congregation what he was not willing to do, so he led by example and slowly others followed. The church always leads the way…..
I give my heart and dedication to the residents at the hospice, I bathe them, I feed them, I fix their beds, do their laundry, hold their hands, laugh and cry with them, but that is my choice. Not all the volunteers are as involved as I am, some come and clean, some help maintain the gardens, and others come and prepare meals. But it saddens me as the house is mainly filled with black residents that there are so few black volunteers or outreach groups that offer their time, whether it is cooking a meal once a month, or sending in a group to help clean and make beds, so the residents know they’re not forgotten.
Our children are dying, they’re babies, they’re so young and it breaks my heart, I can’t even begin to explain how hard it is to watch them die when their life is barely lived. By the time they come to the hospice it’s already too late, but don’t we owe it to them and to ourselves, to at least let our presence be felt, seen, and heard.
Mother Theresa once said that AIDS victims are God in a hideous disguise and if you look into their eyes you’ll see Jesus. I’ve looked into their eyes and I understand. Jesus was a champion of the poor, the sick, the unwanted, the oppressed, the abandoned and forgotten. Does that not describe many people living with HIV/AIDS today? They are at the hospice because they have no where else to go and the hospice cannot survive without the help of the community.
And Jesus said, “Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me- you did it to me.”
Again, thank you for remembering us today and thank you for your time.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
"Little Thoughts"
I wonder, is it normal, to talk yourself into a good day?
“Today is going to be a good day, today I will be happy, I will smile and laugh and be okay.”
And then at the end of the day, which sometimes surprises you by being an amazingly beautiful day, to still feel a little sad as you lie in the dark, longing for sleep to come.
I consoled a friend this week who also volunteers at the hospice as she mourned a resident who touched her, who got closer than most.
“How can he be here one minute and gone the next?” She agonizingly cried.
I don’t really understand what we’re doing some days, but I know we’re needed. I know even in her grief, she wouldn’t take back one single moment.
No matter what the cost.
“Today is going to be a good day, today I will be happy, I will smile and laugh and be okay.”
And then at the end of the day, which sometimes surprises you by being an amazingly beautiful day, to still feel a little sad as you lie in the dark, longing for sleep to come.
I consoled a friend this week who also volunteers at the hospice as she mourned a resident who touched her, who got closer than most.
“How can he be here one minute and gone the next?” She agonizingly cried.
I don’t really understand what we’re doing some days, but I know we’re needed. I know even in her grief, she wouldn’t take back one single moment.
No matter what the cost.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Starburst and Skittles Forever
I stopped writing the night they both died.
I haven’t even looked at my blog until today. I got lost in it all and had a hard time finding my way back. They were both part of the “old timer crew” both had been there before the new year, watched winter turn to spring, spring to summer, and then died within hours of each other.
One was expected. He had been hanging on for awhile and I had time to say goodbye and make peace with the knowledge he was leaving.
But, him? I wasn’t ready for his departure. He was too young, it seemed impossibly wrong, an ocean of injustice crashing unnoticed except to the few of us who swim against the tide.
“Starburst and Skittles”
There isn’t a day gone by you don’t pop into my head.
I promised him he wouldn’t be alone. I sat hour after hour after hour watching his futile fight for every breath, sounding like he was drowning in a small pool of water. That sound comes back to haunt me often, I didn’t understand how one night would be like an eternity forever etched into the fabric of who I was and who I am.
“Everything he has endured, all he has not lived, aches in me.”
Today, another “old timer” needed a t-shirt, so I looked in the supply room and pulled one out. I glanced at the collar and saw his initials from the t-shirt I had given him months before, it was bittersweet. The continuous pattern of the hospice gives me comfort, but sometimes it’s hard to mourn when the next day a new resident enters and erases the space that belonged to someone else for so long.
I can’t even write his name on this blog, I mourn him, but I don’t know what’s normal, or what’s “borderline losing it.”
I’m wearing the t-shirt that I gave him with his initials (I kept it) while writing for the first time since his death. I guess that’s something……
I haven’t even looked at my blog until today. I got lost in it all and had a hard time finding my way back. They were both part of the “old timer crew” both had been there before the new year, watched winter turn to spring, spring to summer, and then died within hours of each other.
One was expected. He had been hanging on for awhile and I had time to say goodbye and make peace with the knowledge he was leaving.
But, him? I wasn’t ready for his departure. He was too young, it seemed impossibly wrong, an ocean of injustice crashing unnoticed except to the few of us who swim against the tide.
“Starburst and Skittles”
There isn’t a day gone by you don’t pop into my head.
I promised him he wouldn’t be alone. I sat hour after hour after hour watching his futile fight for every breath, sounding like he was drowning in a small pool of water. That sound comes back to haunt me often, I didn’t understand how one night would be like an eternity forever etched into the fabric of who I was and who I am.
“Everything he has endured, all he has not lived, aches in me.”
Today, another “old timer” needed a t-shirt, so I looked in the supply room and pulled one out. I glanced at the collar and saw his initials from the t-shirt I had given him months before, it was bittersweet. The continuous pattern of the hospice gives me comfort, but sometimes it’s hard to mourn when the next day a new resident enters and erases the space that belonged to someone else for so long.
I can’t even write his name on this blog, I mourn him, but I don’t know what’s normal, or what’s “borderline losing it.”
I’m wearing the t-shirt that I gave him with his initials (I kept it) while writing for the first time since his death. I guess that’s something……
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