Breathe Deeply

I practice a routine called "Stretch and Pray" first thing most mornings. Murray Finck, the author of a little book by this title, gives guidance for a series of stretches and prayer positions that help get the accumulated stiffness and aches out of the body. This is a good way to get centered to start the day - appreciating life, turning attention to God; thankful for this new day and mindful of the needs of others.. Very importantly, along with each stretch and prayer position, Finck counsels the practitioner  - "don't forget to breathe".

Seems obvious, of course, that we shouldn't forget to breathe. After all, inhaling and exhaling air is a basic necessity for life.  But I find that remembering to breathe deeply can help turn attention to the fact that I am alive and for this I am thankful.  The words for breath and spirit are very interconnected in Hebrew and Christian spiritual traditions.  To breathe means we are living and our breath is a gift from God; something we have in common with every living being.

The phrase from an old hymn comes to mind, "Breathe on me Breath of God, Fill me with life anew"

I have been with several loved ones during their last days and hours on earth and have noticed how shallow their breathing became as life ebbed away and they "gave up the ghost".

These scattered thoughts came into my mind the other day when we got an email from an old friend and colleague from our long ago days in Vietnam.  Bill Herod, who has lived in both Vietnam and Cambodia for many years, has great compassion for the people of Southeast Asia and has dedicated his life to service and peacemaking.  I copy his short reflection here with his permission:

      "Years ago in Viet-Nam, I was helping out at the little hospital in Tam-Ky after a ferocious battle. The     place was overflowing with casualties. 

     Suddenly, a nurse and I saw a man rushing toward us carrying a young woman. She was unconscious, but still breathing.  We put the 17-year-old on the ground and began CPR. As the nurse did the compressions, I started mouth-to-mouth. 

     An odd calm settled in as we went through the procedures. I filled her lungs with my breath, then felt the breath rush out against my cheek.

     After a few moments, the nurse sat back and said, “She’s gone.”  “But she’s still breathing,” I protested. “No,” the nurse countered, “you’re breathing. She’s not.”

     Whose breath was it I felt on my cheek? Hers? Mine? Yours? It was ours. All of us are inextricably interconnected. We are surrounded by birth, life and death. We all breathe, but whose breath is it? It is ours and that of all those who have gone before and all those who will follow.

Each breath we take is part of the whole mystery of creation. Breathe with care."

Bill Herod
Sen Monorom, Mondulkiri, Cambodia

My aunt, Minerva Aaker, took her last breath on March 15 this year at the age of 95 - the last of all my uncles and aunts. Here she is with my sister Jean and me a year ago.

Just two weeks later on March 28th, our grandson, Colin Aaker, took his first breath as he came into this world in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

For everything there is an appointed time ... a time to be born and a time to die...                  Eccleiastes 3:1

Colin with grandma Judy