When I conceived of New England Pet Hospice so many years ago, I envisioned a company in which people with huge hearts and committed souls found a meaningful way to be of service to both animals and people. A place where hard work was also heart work. Where being sensitive, passionate, and vulnerable were valued and important traits. Where teamwork, camaraderie, and love would be the driving forces in all we do.
I am incredibly proud and humbled to say much of this has come true - for better and for worse. Never in a million years could I have imagined the huge impact we would have on the families who so graciously allow us into their lives and into their homes in heartbreaking times. Nor could I have ever envisioned the incredible group of people who would be drawn to do this work with me. Their knowledge, skills, passion, courage, conviction and compassion routinely amaze and impress me.
But with success and growth comes those few people who wish us to be something we are not, want more than we have to offer, or who need someone to blame for something that is outside of our control.
It breaks my heart when this happens, because if you could see what I see:
You would see smart, talented, accomplished professionals sacrificing personally and professionally for the opportunity to be of service.
You would see the purest form of love and giving.
You would see a determination to be better every day in everything we do.
You would see hundreds of hours of training, education, and sharing.
You would see late nights and early mornings, holiday crises, and weekend scrambling.
You would see risk, responsibility, vulnerability and humility.
You would see an organization determined to remain open and emotionally attached, refusing to become jaded or cynical, fueled by hope and the belief that we can do something important and lasting, that we have the capacity to make a difference.
This company and all those involved in making it thrive and grow, develop in ways that simply astound me. I know that something bigger than any of us brought us together and set us on this path. And I for one can't wait to see where it takes us tomorrow, next year and many years into the future!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Quote for the Day
Today, just today, entertain the notion that it's not all
up to you. Creating comfort is your practice. Choosing the magic of
uncertainty is your human obligation. Make a space for your hopeful soul
today by honoring your body. Allow in the goodness of truly believing
that there's nothing to say, nothing to do, but to wait for what you
absolutely know deep down is your next move.
~ Jen Lemen
Labels:
Inspiring quotes and thoughts
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Quote for the Day
In honor of Lucy and with much love for Dolly:
The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Labels:
Inspiring quotes and thoughts
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Death is Not a Dirty Word
For as long as we have records, people have been afraid of dying – partly because we didn’t have good pain strategies and partly because many feared the unknown or their own beliefs about what comes after death.
But it has only been in the last 100 years that the dying process itself has become so foreign and invisible to us that the unknown about the dying process causes us so much fear and anxiety.

Less than 100 years ago 80% of all people died in their own homes, the average life expectancy was 50 years and the infant mortality rate was 24 times higher than today: more than 16% of children died before their first birthday. People may not have liked it, but they were very familiar with death and the dying process. Parents knew the anguish of losing a child; children witnessed the decline and death not only of grandparents, but also of siblings and parents; and the primary caretakers through illness and death were close family members in the home.
Today, almost 70% of people die in institutions (hospitals and nursing homes) and the average life expectancy is close to 80 years. We do not witness or participate in the dying process often in our lifetimes.
Dying has become a mystery to us and the rituals we once had of washing the body, preparing for burial and the burial itself have been transferred into the hands of strangers.
In addition, medicine has come so far that we expect it to prevent death, stop the aging process and keep us eternally happy, healthy, comfortable and young. Aging and death are seen as failures of the medical community and our own will.
Death has become a dirty word.
We are awkward around the dying and bereaved. We don’t know what to do or say. We avoid witnessing dying and prefer that others do not discuss it.
But we are making a big mistake.
Death comes to all of us and everyone we know and love at some point. Our ostrich approach to dying benefits no one, least of all ourselves and our children.
Those who have witnessed the peaceful death of a loved one – human or animal – are universally transformed in any number of ways, almost always in a positive way. Most feel a deeper and stronger connection to the one who has passed, a reduction in anxiety about dying ourselves, an appreciation of the beauty and gift that is our own lives and the lives of those we love, and a peace within.
There are times when it is not possible to care for your loved ones at home, and some occasions where there is a need to be in a hospital, but there are many times when there is a choice whether to care for our own at home, allow others to care for them somewhere else, or hide from death altogether by ignoring the situation. In the animal world, we are also often faced with the choice of euthanasia.
Not every situation allows for hospice-assisted natural death at home, but if the opportunity were there, would you have the courage to try? Would you be able to overcome your fear of death and isolation from the dying process to take that leap of faith? Could you trust yourself, your knowledge, your skills, your instincts, and most of all your compassion enough to be that loving family caretaker?
We think you can. We believe in you. And we know, no matter what comes, you will never regret trying.
Death is not a dirty word. Take that leap of faith.
But it has only been in the last 100 years that the dying process itself has become so foreign and invisible to us that the unknown about the dying process causes us so much fear and anxiety.

Less than 100 years ago 80% of all people died in their own homes, the average life expectancy was 50 years and the infant mortality rate was 24 times higher than today: more than 16% of children died before their first birthday. People may not have liked it, but they were very familiar with death and the dying process. Parents knew the anguish of losing a child; children witnessed the decline and death not only of grandparents, but also of siblings and parents; and the primary caretakers through illness and death were close family members in the home.
Today, almost 70% of people die in institutions (hospitals and nursing homes) and the average life expectancy is close to 80 years. We do not witness or participate in the dying process often in our lifetimes.
Dying has become a mystery to us and the rituals we once had of washing the body, preparing for burial and the burial itself have been transferred into the hands of strangers.
In addition, medicine has come so far that we expect it to prevent death, stop the aging process and keep us eternally happy, healthy, comfortable and young. Aging and death are seen as failures of the medical community and our own will.
Death has become a dirty word.
We are awkward around the dying and bereaved. We don’t know what to do or say. We avoid witnessing dying and prefer that others do not discuss it.
But we are making a big mistake.
Death comes to all of us and everyone we know and love at some point. Our ostrich approach to dying benefits no one, least of all ourselves and our children.
Those who have witnessed the peaceful death of a loved one – human or animal – are universally transformed in any number of ways, almost always in a positive way. Most feel a deeper and stronger connection to the one who has passed, a reduction in anxiety about dying ourselves, an appreciation of the beauty and gift that is our own lives and the lives of those we love, and a peace within.
There are times when it is not possible to care for your loved ones at home, and some occasions where there is a need to be in a hospital, but there are many times when there is a choice whether to care for our own at home, allow others to care for them somewhere else, or hide from death altogether by ignoring the situation. In the animal world, we are also often faced with the choice of euthanasia.
Not every situation allows for hospice-assisted natural death at home, but if the opportunity were there, would you have the courage to try? Would you be able to overcome your fear of death and isolation from the dying process to take that leap of faith? Could you trust yourself, your knowledge, your skills, your instincts, and most of all your compassion enough to be that loving family caretaker?
We think you can. We believe in you. And we know, no matter what comes, you will never regret trying.
Death is not a dirty word. Take that leap of faith.
Labels:
advice and suggestions,
Death and Dying,
Why hospice
Friday, February 17, 2012
Quote for the Day
| FreePhotos.net |
When a person is born, we rejoice
and when they're getting married, we jubilate,
but when they die, we try to pretend nothing has happened.
~ Margaret Mead
Labels:
Inspiring quotes and thoughts
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Quote for the Day
Labels:
Inspiring quotes and thoughts
Friday, February 3, 2012
Burdens and Blessings
Some years ago when I was going through a particularly difficult period of loss and despair, a dear, dear friend gave me a collection of saying stones. You know the ones - tumbled river rocks of various sizes etched with a word or phrase intended to inspire or console you. They were beautiful and I was touch by the gift. One of the stones was engraved with the word: "blessings"
Ultimately, as part of my healing process I planted a memory garden in a visible but out of the way corner of my backyard. I had never done anything like that before and cannot say what drove me to do it, but the entire process was incredibly therapeutic: the research of plants gave my mind something to do, the physical labor of digging and planting gave my body something to do, and the artistic design gave my heart expression. In the center I made a small labyrinth of stones and the Blessings stone went in the middle. The memory garden remains a special place, but the act of creating it was the powerful piece for me personally and once planted that spring, I rarely give it much thought.
Summer and the New England snows came and went and when the spring thaw came, the little garden was covered in leaves that were missed in the fall clean up. My husband ran the lawnmower over the whole area and the Blessings stone was picked up and spit out far from where I had initially placed it. I found it on a chilly early spring day and put it in my winter coat pocket - which was soon after stored away, the stone completely forgotten.
The next fall when it got cold and I put on the coat, I wondered why it was so heavy and putting my hand in the pocket rediscovered the Blessings stone. By then I had more perspective and distance from the despair of the previous year and the stone spoke to me in a new way.
The weight of it reminded me that we all hold blessings that can feel like burdens.
We expect blessings to be light, easy and perpetually joyous but in reality the most treasured blessings bring with them substance, weight and complexity. A blessing is not a temporary or fleeting joy, but a thing that becomes part of you and your heart, that has meaning and richness which grows with time and imparts meaning on a truly deep level. Blessings are confusing, complicated and bewildering - revealing themselves only their own time, not ours.
Like the stone that appeared at all the right times and yet so often hid out of sight and mind, blessings come to us. We can not plan for them or work towards them. They arrive on our doorsteps not when we schedule them, but unexpectedly and often inconveniently.
The question is this: Can we recognize and honor the blessing that comes wrapped in the weight of a burden? Can we stop our time to honor the gift that comes in its own time? Can we be humble and open enough to wade through the complexity and live in the ambiguity that accompany the most treasured of all blessings? Can we see past the light, easy and fleeting to appreciate the meaningful, difficult, and lasting?
Can we recognize that our both our heart's ache and our heart's joy come in direct proportion to the blessing we have been granted?
Ultimately, as part of my healing process I planted a memory garden in a visible but out of the way corner of my backyard. I had never done anything like that before and cannot say what drove me to do it, but the entire process was incredibly therapeutic: the research of plants gave my mind something to do, the physical labor of digging and planting gave my body something to do, and the artistic design gave my heart expression. In the center I made a small labyrinth of stones and the Blessings stone went in the middle. The memory garden remains a special place, but the act of creating it was the powerful piece for me personally and once planted that spring, I rarely give it much thought.
Summer and the New England snows came and went and when the spring thaw came, the little garden was covered in leaves that were missed in the fall clean up. My husband ran the lawnmower over the whole area and the Blessings stone was picked up and spit out far from where I had initially placed it. I found it on a chilly early spring day and put it in my winter coat pocket - which was soon after stored away, the stone completely forgotten.
The next fall when it got cold and I put on the coat, I wondered why it was so heavy and putting my hand in the pocket rediscovered the Blessings stone. By then I had more perspective and distance from the despair of the previous year and the stone spoke to me in a new way.
The weight of it reminded me that we all hold blessings that can feel like burdens.
We expect blessings to be light, easy and perpetually joyous but in reality the most treasured blessings bring with them substance, weight and complexity. A blessing is not a temporary or fleeting joy, but a thing that becomes part of you and your heart, that has meaning and richness which grows with time and imparts meaning on a truly deep level. Blessings are confusing, complicated and bewildering - revealing themselves only their own time, not ours.
Like the stone that appeared at all the right times and yet so often hid out of sight and mind, blessings come to us. We can not plan for them or work towards them. They arrive on our doorsteps not when we schedule them, but unexpectedly and often inconveniently.
The question is this: Can we recognize and honor the blessing that comes wrapped in the weight of a burden? Can we stop our time to honor the gift that comes in its own time? Can we be humble and open enough to wade through the complexity and live in the ambiguity that accompany the most treasured of all blessings? Can we see past the light, easy and fleeting to appreciate the meaningful, difficult, and lasting?
Can we recognize that our both our heart's ache and our heart's joy come in direct proportion to the blessing we have been granted?
Labels:
Inspiring quotes and thoughts
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

