04/30/2022
Lynn Murphy Mark
Bits of colored glass
In 1995 I made a big change in the trajectory of my nursing career. I left my management role in psychiatry for a new endeavor in hospice. I never dreamed that the next 16 years would be devoted to palliative care and the ending of precious lives.
When people find out that one is or has been a hospice nurse, there is almost a universal reaction: faces soften, brows wrinkle a little, and it’s either a verbal response of, “I could never do that!” or “God bless you!” . I can feel the respect that comes forth, respect for the ability to participate in something monumental that, as a people, we are not all that good at facing.
Hospice work is a calling and a challenge. It takes courage to enter the life of a family that is facing an outcome that no one wants. Working gently with people who are in denial of what’s coming requires the ability to be hopeful and realistic at the same time. Judging when people are ready to really talk about the inevitable takes patience and compassion. Often, the patient is much better prepared to face it than the family caregivers. So many issues arise that it takes a whole team of people with different skill sets to address them.
After a couple of years in hospice I noticed a certain sadness of spirit taking root. I loved every part of the work, but I was still learning how to leave sorrow behind as I left a patient’s house. It’s hard not to carry the burdens of home visits, both while the person is still alive and at the time of their death. Yet, maintaining a certain psychic distance was essential for my ongoing ability to be effective in the face of tragedy.
One day I was walking on Main Street in Saint Charles, window shopping. I came to “The Glass Workbench” and saw a sign for lessons in stained glass craft. I immediately went into the store and signed up for the next class. What followed was years of pure joy and creativity, once I had mastered the art of cutting glass and joining pieces together with a soldering gun.
The finished product arrives in a series of steps. First there is the choosing of a pattern. Flowers were my favorite subjects. Once the pattern is decided on, there is the fun of examining sheets of glass of every color imaginable, and choosing the colors and textures that will give the best result. There are a variety of tools needed, so the collection begins. Glass cutter, grinder, lead solder, copper foil, soldering iron, a workbench, special nails to hold the piece together as it is being soldered.
I would pick the pattern and colors, and begin the cutting of paper templates that would be the guides for cutting the pieces of glass. Then the cutting begins. I would spend hours examining the grain of the glass to get the best piece, then cut each piece to fit the pattern. Sometimes the cutting was effortless and it seemed as if the glass itself was willing to be shaped. But there were also times when I was not in tune with the glass and would have to stop cutting. I could definitely feel when I was aligned with the process and when I wasn’t.
As time passed and I got better, people would ask me if I would make a piece for them. I made a few custom pieces for a big window sidelight, and for cabinet fronts. Mostly I made them all to be given away. There was such satisfaction in finishing a project and delivering it to its new owner. It brought joy to recipients and to me.
I will always be grateful for the ability to create something of beauty. I no longer am involved in this wonderful art form, but my heart remembers the love and creativity that went into my time with colored pieces of glass. It helped me keep my work life in its proper perspective. It also enriched my soul and put me in tune with God’s creative gift of artisanship.