After seeing a compelling short documentary film about people in the end stages of life and how they cope, I was flooded with the desire to start volunteering at a hospice. End Game, nominated for an Oscar this year, focuses on three dying people. It's a bit of a tearjerker, but also eye-opening about how so few of us are prepared to meet our inevitable fate. The underlying message is that facing death before it's our turn can help us accept it with grace when it is.
So I searched local hospice volunteer opportunities and came away with the deep understanding that I simply couldn't handle it. I know I will die someday, as will all my loved ones and everyone currently alive, but that doesn't mean I want to spend my remaining healthy moments dwelling on it. I guess I'm just not that strong.
So I set about trying to find a different kind of volunteer opportunity, since I have the luxury of free time: All I do is paint pretty pictures and keep my own home and family going. That's simply not fair, and certainly won't get me into the Kingdom of Heaven, if there is such a place.
But every volunteer position seemed so depressing: Cook meals for homeless drug addicts! Visit shut-ins! Deliver meals to dying people! Talk to suicidal people on a hotline! Drive cancer patients to their chemo appointments! Or I could teach reading to little kids whose parents are either strung out or in jail. It seems that no cheery volunteer positions exist.
I settled on working at the Ronald McDonald House in downtown Portland, right next door to Maine Medical Center. Yes, the guests are the parents of hospitalized sick children, but you hardly ever meet them since they are with their kids all day. All I would have to do is clean the house, make some meals and greet the new people checking in. It's like running a B&B, but with some benefit to the greater good. It might not get me into Heaven, but it could keep me out of Hell.
So I searched local hospice volunteer opportunities and came away with the deep understanding that I simply couldn't handle it. I know I will die someday, as will all my loved ones and everyone currently alive, but that doesn't mean I want to spend my remaining healthy moments dwelling on it. I guess I'm just not that strong.
So I set about trying to find a different kind of volunteer opportunity, since I have the luxury of free time: All I do is paint pretty pictures and keep my own home and family going. That's simply not fair, and certainly won't get me into the Kingdom of Heaven, if there is such a place.But every volunteer position seemed so depressing: Cook meals for homeless drug addicts! Visit shut-ins! Deliver meals to dying people! Talk to suicidal people on a hotline! Drive cancer patients to their chemo appointments! Or I could teach reading to little kids whose parents are either strung out or in jail. It seems that no cheery volunteer positions exist.
I settled on working at the Ronald McDonald House in downtown Portland, right next door to Maine Medical Center. Yes, the guests are the parents of hospitalized sick children, but you hardly ever meet them since they are with their kids all day. All I would have to do is clean the house, make some meals and greet the new people checking in. It's like running a B&B, but with some benefit to the greater good. It might not get me into Heaven, but it could keep me out of Hell.
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