Meadowlark Hospice

07/08/2025

August 1st was a great morning spent with our hospice chaplains! Thank you Larry, Sister Janet, Kathy, Julie, and Al (not pictured) for the service you provide our patients and families.

06/08/2025

Hitch Your Wagon to a New Star - August 2025
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW

A little red wagon with black wheels captured my attention as I entered my fifth-grade classroom one morning many years ago. The wagon, made from construction paper, was on a bulletin board. The tongue of the wagon pointed upward diagonally as if trying to reach the large, bright yellow, five-pointed star in the right corner of the board.

The message "Hitch your wagon to a star" boldly stood out in black letters that were centered above the little red wagon. I was intrigued with what the sentence meant, but I would not have to wonder long.

Mrs. Haynes, our teacher, soon had a serious talk with us about what the wagon and the star meant. I sat intrigued, really paying attention, since she spoke as if what she was saying was very important. The memory of that morning has stayed with me for a long time.

It was one of my first introductions to abstract thinking. Students usually think literally in the first few years of their lives. They are not accustomed to the use of metaphors to get a point across, and Mrs. Haynes was using a metaphor of a little red wagon and a star to get a powerful message across to our class. She said that we all could have dreams. That we, like the wagon, could work toward, reach toward good things in life. She said we could use our minds to think of new and wonderful plans, that we could do big things with our lives when we grew up.

Coming from a family of seven children, I guess I had never given serious thought to my future. I had never thought I could do anything important with my life, but Mrs. Haynes and her bulletin board have stuck with me for many years. I believe she influenced who I am today, and I am sorry I never had a chance to thank her.

The quote "Hitch your wagon to a star" was written in 1862 by Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay "American Civilization." In the essay, a high school commencement speaker challenged a graduating class to "hitch their wagon to
a star."

The speaker asked a child, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The child answered, "I used to want to be a great actor, but my dad told me hardly anybody gets to be an actor, so now I have to pick something else."

The commencement speaker replied, "Nonsense. If you want to be an actor, then do your best to be an actor. Hitch your wagon to a star."

Even though I had loved the concept of hitching my wagon to a star ever since I was ten years old, after the death of my husband Ralph several years ago, I lacked confidence to face life again. I felt washed up, sad, tired without him. I felt that dreaming a new dream was out of my reach, and I wondered how life could possibly ever be good again without him. Then ever so slowly my heart began to heal, and I set my sights on trying to make something good come from his early death. I decided that maybe there was some reason I was still alive and that I must try to move forward.

I realized I could no longer hitch my wagon to the same star I had before his death—that dream of growing old together, watching our grandchildren grow up, taking trips together, and having more picnics in the pasture with family and friends at Thornberry Acres. I realized those dreams were gone, so I would have to focus my energies and time on hitching my wagon to a new dream, new hopes, new goals, and a new star. I had to pause, make adjustments, refocus, and search for that new dream, the new star. Life is not always a bowl of cherries or endless delight—we stumble and struggle, but life must go on.

If you are grieving, you know what I am talking about. Going on without the one you love is hard. Grief can be devastating, but as I have told myself so many times, "What other choice do I have than to go on?"

So, I encourage you to squeeze good from each day you are given. Time, like a river, moves on quickly and is gone. Honor your loved one's memory by living life well. Hitch your wagon to a new star. Cherish your past as you dream for tomorrow, and just keep on walking.

28/07/2025

August Hospice Volunteer Newsletter! Stay cool my friends!

22/07/2025

04/07/2025

Swinging on a Grapevine Swing - July 2025
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW

One of my favorite memories as a child is swinging on wild grapevines in “the pine grove,” a woodsy little forest up the hill from my childhood home in Tennessee. It was not just a pine grove though—there were many tall deciduous tree intermingled with the pines.

It was place of wonder, peace, and serenity from my active life as one of seven children. It was cool and quiet, and the ground was partially covered with a soft carpet of pine needles that had accumulated over the years.

Even though the foliage from the trees was fairly thick, we could see our way around, and I never felt afraid. We did not venture into the grove during the winter, but I could imagine the wind whistling through the trees and how cold it would have been. But it was a memorable summertime place for a child to play.

The wild grapevines shared space with the tall trees, intertwining themselves with the trees to help guide them upward toward sunlight. The vines sometimes grew 60 to 100 feet long. They vines were several inches in diameter at the base with roots that were firmly anchored in the ground.

The vines were usually strong enough to make a vertical swing that could hold the weight of most grownups. One caution our daddy always taught us—always give a grapevine a few strong tugs to make sure the vine can support your weight before swinging on it.

As young children, it was easy for us to wrap our legs around the swing and hold on tight with our hands as we swung, and none of us were ever harmed.

While I have lived in Kansas for many years after graduating high school, my husband and I have occasionally traveled to the South where we were excited to sometimes see grapevines growing near the highway, reminding me of the little forest close to my childhood home.

At my age now, it is unlikely I will ever return to that little pine grove, and I have no plans of visiting a forest to search for another grapevine swing. Those days are gone, but they left behind some special memories for me and my siblings. And I now rely on other pleasurable activities to fill my time.

In the future, I hope that other children will discover the wonder of swinging on a grapevine swing as we did. And I will always appreciate the outdoors, the woods, plants, flowers, birds, and critters—those extraordinary, “nature-made” things from my childhood!

After I experienced the death of my husband, I was challenged to find new ways to add wonder, peace, and serenity to my life to deal with the sadness. As in the lyrics of an old song from the 1800s—“in the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines, and you shiver and the cold wind blows”—grief can make us feel like the sun will never shine again, but it will.

And I soon discovered I was surrounded by small wonders in my own backyard, in my front yard, and outside the windows where I lived in the country. The only thing it cost me was a little bit of my time!

Similar to the grapevines looking for a bit of sunlight, I needed to open my eyes and look around, and I began to heal. Hopefully there are some nature-made “things” surrounding you as well.

Hopefully you, like I, have some pleasant memories of the one you love. Maybe you even had some grapevine-swing-like experiences. In the 1800s, Samuel Peck, a native of the South, wrote:

“Swinging on the grapevine swing,
Laughing where the wild birds sing,
I dream and sigh
For the days gone by
Swinging in a grapevine swing.”

Use your “now” time to search for some new bits of sunlight as you remember and cherish your memories. Appreciate yesterday, live for today, and look forward to happier days tomorrow.

25/06/2025

In Loving Memory of Dr. John Ryan Meadowlark Hospice Medical Director, August 2013 – December 2022

With deep respect and profound gratitude, we honor the life and legacy of Dr. John Ryan. For nearly a decade, Dr. Ryan served as our hospice medical director with extraordinary compassion, wisdom, and unwavering commitment. He brought light to even the most challenging moments, offering comfort not only to patients and their families, but to the entire hospice team.

In 2014, he was granted the Hospice Medical Director Certification credentialed by the Hospice Medical Director Certification Board. This professional certification affirms a knowledge and experience base for hospice practitioners who display commitment to their career, dedication to patient and family care, and the sustainability of the hospice organization and industry.

When the world was gripped by uncertainty during the COVID-19 pandemic, Dr. Ryan guided our team through unfamiliar territory—balancing rapidly evolving medical guidance with the emotional toll of separation, grief, and fear.

His steady presence and unwavering dedication to ensuring comfort, respect, and grace in life’s final chapter shaped the care we provided. Dr. Ryan led by example—with integrity, humility, and a heart as vast as his knowledge.

His passing in June 2025 leaves a space that can never quite be filled. Yet, his spirit continues to inspire us. We will carry forward his legacy in every act of care, every word of kindness, and every moment of presence we offer.

Thank you, Dr. Ryan. Your life was a gift, and we were privileged to witness it.