Generosity of the Heart
Dahlias
For more than 20 years, generosity has been a central practice in our community. From warm hand to warm hand, generosity has come to Zen Hospice Project in a myriad of ways this year, each reminding us of our purpose: to serve the dying and those touched by loss.
It comes through the end of life care we are providing again at our 6-bed Guest House, which re-opened on September 15 after six years of renovations.
It comes through the local farmer who donates buckets of fresh-cut dahlias to the Guest House. Dahlias, by the way, that burst with color – reds, oranges, yellows, violets and purples – filling the house with warmth and vibrancy.
It comes through the 9-year-old daughter of a Guest House resident, who one night carefully created dahlia bouquets for all the residents in the house. Then, refusing help, she carried each one up to the second floor to hand deliver them. With the blooms so large, the vases seemed half her size. She was caring for us.
It comes from the staff member, who at 7am comes to help a resident who has died, bringing with him a razor from home so that our direct care staff can give the resident one last shave.
It comes from the grieving wife and her friends who, as they wash her husband’s body, begin to sing, filling the house with song and lament.
It comes from the resident who does not verbally respond, but catches my eye and smiles – waving as if we are old friends.
It comes from the 78-year-old holocaust survivor, who with his wife of 55 years tours the house wondering if we might keep a place for him when it’s his time.
It comes from the volunteer who sits quietly in the dark with a resident who is fearful and scared. There is no need to speak; she simply wants someone to hold her hand.
Generosity of the heart unites people.
It is a healing herb that unifies strangers
and brings communities together.
Our deepest, heartfelt thank you to all who keep Zen Hospice Project strong and growing into the future. May your generosity benefit all beings, in this lifetime and those to come, in a myriad of forms, so that all beings are happy, free from suffering, and at peace.
Dahlias
Our first resident in the reopened Guest House was 49 years old, a woman diagnosed with lung cancer. With her came a strong community of support in her family and church friends, who filled her room with prayer and attentiveness to the care she needed. This support included her 9 year-old daughter, whom I will call June.
When June came to visit, at first she could usually be seen sitting in the dining room doing her homework. She seemed a little shy, but soon it was common for June to play a kind of hide and seek with us. I was nominated several times to participate. To be honest it was less like hide and seek and more like hide and creep. Instead of hiding she would creep up quietly behind me to see how close she could get before I noticed. Very fun.
During these same few weeks, a local farmer who grows dahlias offered to provide the Guest House every week with a fresh batch from his farm in Half Moon Bay. About three weeks into June’s mother’s stay, he sent four large buckets to the house that were brimming with vibrant colors: red, orange, pink, purple, yellow and violet. One night as I was leaving the house, I noticed June was carrying a number of vases full of dahlias upstairs to the second floor. Each vase seemed almost half her size, but she wanted no help in carrying them. I thought to myself that her mother would be in for a great treat that night.
It took me until the next day to realize, as I visited each resident’s room, that in fact June had a different purpose in mind for all those colorful dahlias. She had actually created special arrangements and brought bouquets to each of the four residents, one by one. My heart broke open. She was providing care for us.
To let people unfold and be as they are, without agenda or attachment to outcome, embodies generosity. June did not need to talk about her mother’s illness. June needed to be herself amongst us and to find her way of being a caregiver, too. And in the end, June found her own way to care for her mother -- including sitting with her body after she died, in a room full of beautiful dahlias.