job descriptions

On my assignment sheet at hospice were several names of people who needed pastoral visits.  In the second room the patient was alone.  He nodded when I walked in.  But then was unresponsive.  I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to do.  I felt the urge to bolt, but also wanted to honor the request for a chaplain.  I took his hand and began to talk....about the weather, the drive down the mountain, the view from his room, the nice quilt on his bed.  I hoped that if nothing else soothing tones would be comforting.   I stood in quiet for a few moments, then read Psalms 23 and prayed.

"What do you do as a chaplain?"  

Hhhmmm,  Well...I chatter.  I stand quietly.  I hold your hand.  I pray.  I hurt for you.  I hope you are OK. I wince.  I provide spiritual presence......

It continues to be hard to explain to someone what we do.  It's not feats of engineering.  It's not brain surgery.  It's rarely news worthy.  But it feels worthwhile.  And so often very satisfying.

I like this description from singer and song writer Conor Oberst.

I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.  I said, "There is nothing that I can do for you that you can't do for yourself."  He said, "Oh yes you can.  Just hold my hand.  I think that that would help."  So I sat with him a while then I asked him how he felt.  He said, "I think I'm cured."

For I hold you by your right hand— I, the Lord your God.  And I say to you ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.  Isaiah 41:13

caught

I'm doing some reading to enrich my hospice rotation.  Henri Nouwen's book Our Greatest Gift has one of my favorite illustrations.  More than just great advice for end of life, it reminds me of how I want to live each day.


    " The Flying Rodleighs are trapeze artists who perform in the German circus Simoneit-Barum. When the circus came to Freiburg two years ago, my friends Franz and Reny invited me and my father to see the show. I will never forget how enraptured I became when I first saw the Rodleighs move through the air, flying and catching as elegant dancers. The next day, I returned to the circus to see them again and introduced myself to them as one of their great fans., They invited me to attend their practice sessions, gave me free tickets, asked me to dinner, and suggested I travel with them for a week in the near future. I did, and we became good friends.


     One day, I was sitting with Rodleigh, the leader of the troupe, in his caravan, talking about flying. He said, “As a flyer, I must have complete trust in my catcher. The public might think that I am the great star of the trapeze, but the real star is Joe, my catcher. He has to be there for me with split second precision and grab me out of the air as I come to him in the long jump.”


     “How does it work?” I asked. “The secret,” Rodleigh said, “is that the flyer does nothing and the catcher does everything. When I fly to Joe, I have simply to stretch out my arms and hands and wait for him to catch me and pull me safely over the apron behind the catchbar.”


     “You do nothing!” I said, surprised. “Nothing,” Rodleigh repeated. “The worst thing the flyer can do is to try to catch the catcher. I am not supposed to catch Joe. It’s Joe’s task to catch me. If I grabbed Joe’s wrists, I might break them, or he might break mine, and that would be the end for both of us. A flyer must fly, and a catcher must catch, and the flyer must trust, with outstretched arms, that his catcher will be there for him.”


     When Rodleigh said this with so much conviction, the words of Jesus flashed through my mind: “Father into your hands I commend my Spirit.” Dying is trusting in the catcher. To care for the dying is to say, “Don’t be afraid. Remember that you are the beloved child of God. He will be there when you make your long jump. Don’t try to grab him; he will grab you. Just stretch out your arms and hands and trust, trust, trust."


Into your hands I commit my spirit; redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.  Psalm 31:5

da

I was 40 minutes into my Sunday on-call when I was paged to the Chest Pain consult room.  By now I know just what that means.  Sure enough, once inside I found a man, head in hands, trying to absorb the unexpected death of his mother.  


I just wanted to be a comforting presence and support.  But it was more challenging than that.  


First of all there was a bit of a language barrier. Peter introduced himself, then struggled to find English words to describe the morning's events. Later Peter called his 7 brothers and sisters and I sat quietly beside him and enjoyed a river of beautiful Ukrainian words.  The only one I recognized was Da.


Then there was the matter of grieving.  Though Peter was weeping when I walked in, he immediately stopped. When I asked, he told me he was fine.  When I told him he didn't have to be fine, he told me "This is time will be strong." And he was strong as we went to see his mother, but when I stepped out of the room to talk to the nurse, he broke down.  As much as I wanted to help, I realized that my presence halted his grieving.  So I stood outside the room, willing him strength as he sobbed alone.


I did get to help later when Peter's last sibling in Russia needed documentation for the embassy to come to the funeral.  I wrote a letter to accompany the doctor's form and waited with him as they got sent.  When every thing was done, I put my hand on his shoulder and told him how sorry I was.  He shook my hand and said "Thanks to come here with me."


I'm reminded again that grief and compassion are universal languages.  Both speak louder than gender, age, culture and tradition.


Я так сожалею о вашей боли. Мое сердце болит для Вас.


Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.  2 Corinthians 1:3 and 4

off call -christmas

As long as you hold me so...let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.





"the people I love is, in fact, you."  Love Actually






Happy Solstice! 














.





My winter road rescuers save their momma.











Fad snuggies to keep us warm.

 

The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.  We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish.  John 1:14

cheese pastor

I was in the middle of a heart wrenching scene in the Chest Pain Center waiting room.  I was sitting with a wife of 65 years and her two daughter and their families.  The doctor came in with the sentence "I'm so sorry I have to tell you this......" The room erupted.  It was the day before Christmas Eve.


I began passing kleenex and patting backs and murmuring how sorry I was, when the door swung open and cheese pastor bounded in.  "Such a shame,  such a shame.  But he's in a better place.  A much better place. God needed him.  Yes oh yes, God needed him.  Grace of God, sister, Grace of God.  Make us strong, Jesus.  Reunion will be fantastic, won't it?  Hallelujah!  Grace of God, sister. Heaven is so close......"


I thought about killing him.  I thought about killing myself so I didn't have to listen to him.  I thought about how much work it must have taken for him to memorize the entire "Bad Pastor Cliche" book.  I thought about how my coworkers would shake their heads when hearing these phrases again.


After about 15 minutes, cheese pastor insisted we pray.  We had to hold him off a couple minutes as more family arrived and the doctor came to speak to the family again.  Then cheese pastor rounded us up into a circle, instructed us to hold hands and launched into the holy talk with God again.


But in the middle of the prayer cheese pastor said these words.  "God, we don't know what to do right now.  This isn't fair.  All we know is that when we fall apart You are big enough to catch us."  Wow. I didn't hear anything else.  I was too busy awing his wisdom.


It's a crazy world -where sometimes heros combust before our eyes, and villains save the day.  A world where cheese pastors say the most profound thing available while everyone else is speechless.  Go figure.


But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice. Philippians 1:18

gross people

Today I spent over an hour in a tiny consult room with a family of gross people.  I'm writing that in the nicest way possible.  They were smelly and smokey and hysterical and dysfunctional.  I tried to focus on their grief and be compassionate.  I tried to see them in the ways God might see them.  I tried only breathing out of my mouth.  I tried to BE there til it was all over.  Then I limped back to the office knowing that because this is CPE it wasn't over.

Why did they bother you so much?
Where did you see yourself in that room?
Who were you to them?
How does this quote address this situation?  If you hate a person, you hate something in them that is part of yourself.  What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.  Herman Hesse


I don't know yet.  I know it isn't Christ-like, or tender, or even human.  But it is totally honest.  I will keep digging at that obstinate thing we like to call our growing edge.  And Jesus, if that was you in that room, I'll try harder to see you next time.


He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.  He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not.  Isaiah 53:2 and 3

known

Today is the official start of winter solstice, the first day of winter and the shortest day of the year.  It's also my birthday!  So even though I was driving down the mountain at 7:00 am as usual, it was a special day full of hugs and presents, texts and calls, silly songs and good wishes.


I've been pondering the phenomenon of being known.  I started thinking about this around the end of July when, one morning, our supervisor, Carson laughed at something I said and replied "that is such an Erin thing to say."  I rolled my eyes that he could say that with such certainty after only knowing me 6 weeks.


I noticed it when I was struggling with answers for the Enneagram test about my personality and Steve easily answered them for me.  Or when Jenn told me about a movie that "I would totally love".  Or when my Mom again sent me something to wear that immediately was my very favorite.  They really know me!


Two weeks ago one of our evaluators mentioned that he found me to be very quiet and hesitant.  Stifling their smirks, all three of my fellow residents quickly spoke up that that was not how they experienced me.  After six months of IPR's and working, reading, laughing, crying, eating and learning together, they pretty much know me.  


Being known is scary and satisfying.  I just saw the quote that says "True friends are those who really know you but love you anyway."  Agreed!  But being known is more then a nice treat.  It's a necessity.  I read recently that "we were created with the spiritual hunger to know and be known. That no matter what else you do with your life, no matter how high you climb or how much you achieve, nothing will satisfy that hunger--nothing else."


This next year I want to be more aware of this spiritual need inside me.  I want to know myself better, and be more open to being known by others.  And I want to celebrate the realization that I am surrounded by people who really do know me and still love me!

Know me God.  Investigate my life, O God, find out everything about me; Cross-examine and test me, get a clear picture of what I'm about; See for yourself whether I've done anything wrong— then guide me on the road to eternal life. Psalms 139:23, 24 The Message

prayer ramblings

a few random thoughts on prayer started on September 8, 2009. 


Prayer is an unusual currency with chaplains. We give it. We share it. We offer it. We try to make it meaningful. We fret when it isn't wanted. We are supposed to be the experts of it, yet no one tastes it's mystery more than we do. 


My first day in behavioral health, I walked into a room with two elderly gentlemen. When I introduced myself, they immediately welcomed me and asked me to pray with them. I had to slow them down to catch their first names before we started praying together. It was a sweet and unpredictable way to start a visit. 


The Chaplain department starts the day gathered together. Whoever was on call the night before leads in the prayer time. I've grown to love the prayers of my fellow residents lifted each morning. -Vicki's eloquent and thoughtful words, Cathie's stately cadence, Nathan's relaxed and personal petitions. Each inspiring and comforting at the same time. It's not hard to picture God listening intently with a smile. 


Isaac Bashevis Singer said something like "I only pray when I'm in trouble. But I'm in trouble all the time, so I pray all the time." I think he wrote that during his year of CPE! 


O LORD, I call to you; come quickly to me. Hear my voice when I call to you. May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice. Set a guard over my mouth, O LORD; keep watch over the door of my lips. Psalms 141:1-3

red capacity alert

On my long drive down the mountain today I listened to a sermon on Hell.   (Baptist peer pressure maybe?:)  John Ortberg taught inspiringly about the lengths God has gone to win us and how much He values our free will.  He talked about the church not being a building but a group of people so won over by God's lavish love that they go on a rampage to win others.  He talked about us being so passionate to spread the news that "nothing can separate us from the love of God", that we assault the gates of hell and batter them down. 


A few hours later I was sitting at my desk in the resident's office when I heard the familiar "Red Capacity Alert" over the intercom.  This alerts the hospital that the ER/trauma facility has reached maximum patient capacity and can not receive any more patients. As I heard the alert, I pictured the gates of hell bursting at the seams with sickness and death and fear. I thought about our coworker who is anxiously waiting test results for his wife.  I thought about our teacher who is transferring her mom from ICU to Hospice.  I thought of the wife of 65 years, whose hand I held today as she was told her husband didn't make it.  I thought about the slash marks on a behavioral health patient's wrists and the tiny tubes that intubate the NICU babies. I thought about the tears and devastation that I had witnessed in the last few days. Hell is overflowing. 


Then I heard Ortberg's words ringing in my ears.  It seemed so necessary that there should be people in God's name banging their fists on the gates of Hell reminding others that "nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.  Not trouble or distress, not death nor life, not height nor depth, or anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."


I was proud to be an assaulter today.  And grateful to be surrounded by such dedicated gate bangers each day.  Rock on church.

And...on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.  Matthew 16:18  ESV

old soul

The dreaded second quarter evaluations were upon us.  We answered our 20 questions, wrote our five pages, spent half a day getting feedback from each other and then sat before the Professional Advisory Group. 


And as everything in CPE is, it was nothing like we expected. (dreaded.  see Jackhammered post)  This particular group was inquiring and encouraging.  They asked deep questions and listened intently.  They applauded the handling of a sticky situation I'd been in.  They commended the steps I was taking toward my goals.  They witnessed to the value of my ministry here. 

At the end of our hour together, one of the Advisors, a Rabbi, said to me "Erin, this may sound a little mystical.  But I feel you have been here many times before....." 

It does sound mystical.  And I'm not sure what it means.  But I like the sound of it....

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say,  "Look! This is something new"? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.  Ecclesiates 1:9 and 10

little prayers

Yesterday I set the world's record for most chaplain prayers ever shared in a hospital setting.  Maybe.  At least that's what it felt like.

Most of the time I love praying for a patient.  Sometimes holding their hand.  Sometimes with my arm around the shoulder of their anxious loved ones.  I love stepping with them into the realization that we are on holy ground.  As I personalize their petitions, I remember how healing it is to be prayed for by name. But at the end of a day like today, on the 100th prayer, I peevishly pictured God saying "You again?  Take a break girl!"

The following comes from Eugene Peterson's Living-Message- It reminds me that every prayer, no matter how brief, is heard and valued.  A reminder I needed!

"One of the indignities to which pastors are routinely subjected is to be approached, as a group of people are gathering for a meeting or a meal with the request, "Reverend, get things started for us with a little prayer, will ya?" It would be wonderful if we would counter by bellowing William McNamara's fantasized response: "I will not! There are no little prayers! Prayer enters the lion's den, brings us before the holy where it is uncertain whether we will come back alive or sane, for 'it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of a living God.'"

Hear my cry for mercy as I call to you for help, as I lift up my hands toward your Most Holy Place. Psalms 28:2

tangled

    This week we fininished reading and discussing A Fine Balance.  An incredible, horrible book which changed our world view and our office language (Hai Ram!) and warped us forever.  And somehow, in the middle of this 603 pages, written in another country, in another time, I found a passage that summed up my year - the angst, the mercy and the joy. 


      If time were a bolt of cloth," said Om, "I would cut out all the bad parts.  Snip out the scary nights and stitch together the good parts, to make time bearable.  Then I could wear it like a coat, always live happily."
     "I'd like a coat like that," said Maneck.  "But which parts would you cut out?"
     "The government destroying our house, for sure," said Om.  "And working for Dinabai."
     "Hoi-hoi," cautioned Ishvar.  "Without her, where would the money come from?"
     "Okay, let's keep the paydays and throw out the rest."
     "What else?" asked Maneck.
     "Depends how far back you want to go."
     "All the way.  Back to when you were born."
     "That's too much, yaar.  So many things to cut, the scissors would go blunt.  And there would be very little cloth left."
     The evening sky darkened, summoning the streetlights.
     "Some things are very complicated to separate with scissors," said Maneck.  "Good and bad are joined like that."  He laced his fingers tight together.
     A Fine Balance, Rohinton Mistry


And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose.  Romans 8:28

water power

For our last Pastoral Image class we had to submit an image we portrayed in a hospital experience.  Here is one I shared.

Water comes in so many forms.  From the tiniest raindrop to glaciers of ice to warm ocean waves.  All water has the potential for amazing force and energy which maybe harnessed for incredible movement.

Water can be part of a gravity driven process that moves solids and deposits them elsewhere.  It is a transformer of nature and a reformer of the landscape.  To do this it has to be persistent, constant and creative.

The family that stays in my mind were the James’.  My pastoral care started as a little droplet when a nurse on Neuro paged me and told me the family had just received the bad news that Mrs. James had suffered a brain aneurism and would not wake up.  She asked me to come be with them in the consult room.

When I entered the room and introduced myself I could feel the resistance.  They shared that they were not religious, and I could sense uneasiness with a chaplain present.  I gently persisted, got them talking, answered their questions, helped them make plans.

Later I walked them to the patient’s room, carefully eroding some confusion, fear and a resistance to openly grieve. I asked for stories about Mrs. James and their memories brought laughter that washed over us all.  As the end came we cried together and our tears bonded us. 

In the 5 days between first call and Mrs. James’ funeral, we continued to share waves of emotion and experiences.  Rivulets of trust had displaced unease.  I was no longer a stranger, but a familiar current that carried them securely through the hospital and funeral experience.

The Lord says "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."  Isaiah 43:19

holes

Dante's epic begins with the narrator saying:
In the middle of the journey of our life
I came to myself within a dark wood
Where the straight way was lost
Ah, how hard a thing it is to tell
Of that wood, savage and harsh and dense,
The thought of which renews my fear!
So bitter is it that death is hardly more.


We spend a lot of time at the hospital talking about this experience.  We call it The Hole.  It's unlikely you will be in the hospital and not be experiencing some kind of Hole.  But even more then that - we all have Holes.


In classes, verbatims, supervision and conversations we explore our own discomfort with the hollows and caverns in our lives and experiences.  Our fear that if we open those doors we will get sucked back.  Our hesitation to getting in our holes and befriending the pain.  Our reluctance to take what we've learned in our darkness and connect with others who are in that place.


"Hello down there, sorry I can't come any closer.  Too messy for me.  Way too scary.   Hope you can feel my support thrown out miles above you.  Be well!"


This is the most challenging learning edge for me. To use that ladder to climb down in my own life. 
And in my ministry to recognize a person is in the hole, to get invited in, stay for awhile and connect and then to get out.  I'm totally convinced of the utter importance of this for me.


The book Beauty speaks to the dark night of the soul or a wilderness experience.  "A time of bleakness can also be a time of pruning.  Sometimes when our minds are dispersed and scattered, this pruning cuts away all the false branching where our passion and energy were leaking out.  While it is painful to experience and endure this, a new focus and clarity emerge.  The light that is hard won offers the greatest illumination.  A gift wrestled from bleakness will often confer a sense of sureness and grounding of the self, a strengthening proportionate to the travail of its birth.  The severity of Nothingness can lead to beauty.   The ruthless winter clearance of spirit quietly leads to springtime of new possibility.  Perhaps Nothingness is the secret source from which all beginning springs."


Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.  From the ends of the earth I call to you,  I call as my heart grows faint;  lead me to the rock that is higher than I.  Psalm 61:1,2

vending machine

At the hospital sometimes I feel like a spiritual vending machine.

You need a Bible – select 1

Prayer – select 2

Initial visit – select 3

Financial help with prescriptions – select 4

Patience while I listen to you complain  - select 5

Company in the trauma bay family waiting area – select 6

Hug while you weep – select 7

Guidance in the death process  - select 8

For any complaints about the performance of this machine please call 250-2000.

(quit pushing my buttons!)

If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you.  John 15:7

you never know

When the pager goes off, you go.  You call the number, you get the location and you go.  You respond.  You are needed.  You answer.


Making initial visits is really a lot harder.  You knock on a door.  Will they want to see you?  Talk to you?  Will they be busy or hostile or needy or interesting?  You never know.


I made rounds on my floors today. Here's a snippet.


room 1 - Patient was in bed, typing on his lap top, watching TV.  He didn't look receptive for a visit, but you never know.  I introduced myself.  He grunted.  I talked about what chaplains could provide him, he typed.  OK.  I get it.  You are busy. 


room 2 - Patient's wife is in charge.  And she is not happy with the poor quality of Thanksgiving food served in this establishment.  She is irritated and wants someone to blame.  I nod and wish I'd picked another floor, and then she says I can pray with them.  Next thing you know we are all holding hands praying together.  You never know! 


room 3 - Patient's daughter dismisses me during my introduction.  No problem, I slip out.  But she follows me out and we sit in the hall together as she cries and asks advice on breaking bad news to her mom.  Then thanks me repeatedly for coming by.  You never know...


room 4 - Patient immediately invites me in.  So glad to see you!  And then embarks on the most confusing stream of conscience ramblings.  After I escape I read a bipolar diagnosis that helps put it all in perspective.  So glad indeed!  You never know. 


One thing I do know - I'm worn out!


Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.  Psalm 139:23

blockage

Recently in the hospital we had a very cute baby with a very big tummy.  Turned out he had a jujunal atresia blockage.  Because he will be with us awhile, and because I asked,  I got a fascinating diagram and lesson on the digestive process and the intenstines.  Who knew they were so important?  Seems a section of the jejunum flopped over at some point in development.  It cut off the blood supply to the next section of intestine which became necrotic.  (Are you as impressed as I am that I know these big words?)  Every thing built up until the blockage got too big and exploded, maybe during delivery, and just seeped all over the abdominal cavity.  Could have been fatal.  Luckily this little man was born in 2009 at this great hospital with amazing doctors and nurses and he is going to be just fine.  But it will take a couple of delicate surgeries and weeks of healing and treatment to get him right back on track.


I've been thinking about how dangerous blockages can be.  Physical ones of course, but also emotional blockages, relational blockages, spiritual blockages.  Anything that cuts off the healthy stream of growth and sustenance.  I'm paying more attention to necroticish areas of my life that need intentional healing.  And what I can do to increase absorption of all kinds of life-affirming nutrients.


That happy little baby with the just-right-sized tummy inspires me.


Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.  John 7:37, 38

wild animals

This was read one morning during our group devotional.  The simple word picture spoke loudly to me.  Be still, Erin....and know that I am God....


It comes the very moment you wake up each morning.  All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals.  And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other, larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.  And so on, all day.  Standing back from your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.  CS Lewis

jack hammered

The time had come for us to sit before a committee and present a case study (verbatim and explanation) showing that we could demonstrate ministry competencies in each of the level one chaplaincy requirements.  My job was to answer all questions throughly and non defensively.  Their job was to fit all the accusations, critiques, suspicions, cross examinations and qualms they had about me into one hour.  To accomplish this they would have to jackhammer intensely on the rocky veneer of my soul.  


That's what it felt like anyway....


Nathan, who was peer representative for each of our case studies, will be glad to vouch that mine was the hardest and most probingly antagonistic.


Maybe not gladly, but if you twist his arm...


I managed to maintain composure until I was dismissed and walked into our safe haven of an office where I saw Cathie and Vicki's caring and sympathetic faces.  And then all the tears that the mean committee wanted to see flowed out.  I told them it was a combination of being the butt of a joke you don't get and being hit by a rogue meteorite.  Something like that....


I told my supervisor that I didn't see the benefit in this style of attackopanels from people who didn't even know me.  He thought it was very beneficial to have a fresh perspective based on first impressions, that I didn't have to accept everything that was said, that he thought I'd done well, and the group had unanimously voted that I passed level one.  So they must not have totally hated me.


hhhmmm.  So maybe it wasn't THAT bad.  But I will still wince whenever I see a jackhammer drilling poor, sweet, defenseless concrete.


As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.  Proverbs 27:17

two peas

During rounds today on my heart floor, I stepped into room 432.  I introduced myself to the 80 year old woman sitting up in bed.  She had long, scraggly grey hair in two ponytails, a big tooth challenged smile, a heavy southern accent and a very fresh scar above her heart peaking out of the top of her nightgown.  


I struggled to make conversation, looking for a connection, common ground,  some similarity to build on, to extend empathy from.  I floundered.  And attempted to end our awkward meeting with the question "Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Smith?"
She surprised me by saying "how about a prayer?"


Jesus, we thank you for your promise to be with us no matter where we are.  Today we claim that promise in this hospital room.  Thank you for the gifted doctors and nurses who were able to repair Miss Smith's heart.  Thank you that she can go home soon.  Until then, please fill her with Your peace.  May she know that peace even in this hospital room as she heals.  Thank you Jesus.  Amen.


Miss Smith squeezed my hand.  She looked up at me.  "I want His peace.  I ask for it.  I put myself in His hands, then the littlest thing happens and I grab it back.  Crazy huh?"


My jaw dropped.  This little, elderly, unfamiliar patient just spoke my challenge.  Word for word. Wow.  We were like twins on a spiritual battle field.  Two peas in a pod.


I sat down again beside her.  "Yes, It's crazy.  I do the same thing, Miss Smith.  Why do you think we do that?".....


Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. ⁷ Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.  Philippians 4:6,7  NLT

parched

I miss blogging.  I blame the swine flu.  And the bustle around Thanksgiving.  Finishing a quarter of school.  And the end of A Fine Balance - enough to kill anyone's last creative spark.  And I blame the laundry.  And my sons homework.  And trauma pages when I'm on call and supposed to have free time to blog.  I blame the beautiful piles of leaves that had to be raked.  And how my bed sucks me in at the end of the day.  I blame migraines and stress.  The two funerals I got to be part of.  Reading about Korean Han.  My boys incessent need to eat.  Mostly I blame swine flu - evil, soul crushing beast.  I'm comforted to know that both Shakespeare and Vicki have struggled with writing blocks.  It's the season.  It's not from lack of material.  I have so many tiny creative ideas that sprout up from interesting experiences, but so far they haven't had the tenacity to break through.  It's coming though.....

You feed them from the abundance of your own house,  letting them drink from your river of delights.  For you are the fountain of life,  the light by which we see.  Psalms 36:8 and 9

daisy day

Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not.  That's been my on-call evening.


I plan an after hours lap of the NICU, hoping to see parents I rarely see, staff I haven't met during my day time rounds.  At 7:00 I wash my hands, check my list, noting the names of new arrivals.  Then I start around.  Crib 1, baby girl.  Lift the pink sheet at the end of the incubator, note the name, peek at the face, coo at her if she is awake.  Crib 2, baby boy.  Lift the blue sheet...a nurse I've never seen is suddenly beside me.  "Can I help you?" she asks in her best "get the hell out of here" voice.  "Hi, I'm the chaplain, just making the rounds with the babies."  "Did you wash your hands?"  "Yes. (breathe)  And I'm not touching the babies, I just need to see their names."  She is now positioned between me and the baby.  "You still bring germs too close to them."  I look her squarely in the eye.  "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."  And then I keep walking.  loves me not.


On the other side of the room, another unfamiliar nurse steps up to me.  "Can I help you?  You look lost."  Please.  I live in this room.  I'm here every day.  But I smile.  "No just hoping to meet some new parents in here."  She is not hospitable.  "There will be no parents until 8:00 pm.  Why don't you try the lobby?"  as in out there.  I should have stood some ground.  But I leave.  loves me not.


I get paged to ICU.  To a room where grandma has just passed away.  Tears are quietly flowing.  I introduce myself and ask "is there anything I can do for you?"  They smile.  Keep us in your prayers.  "Could I pray with you now?"  They nod.  I rest my hand on grandma's blanket covered arm and talk to Jesus about her long life, the look of peace on her face, and the strength and tenderness her family members now need.  And just like that I'm in.  They tell me stories about her.  And ask what to do next.  And thank me for coming.  I feel Sally Field sized relief wash over my earlier hardships.  loves me.


As I leave their room I pass a frantic commotion in another ICU room.  Code blue.  A nurse grabs my arm and points me to the break room.  No time for words.  I walk into panicked family members.  The wife pulls me down beside her and says "pray, pray, pray."  So we do - intensely. Carefully chosen words.  "...let us know You are here.  Give us your strength, made perfect in our weakness....."  We are interrupted by a doctor with good news.  He's ok!!  I'm being hugged.  Nervous, adrenalined joy wells up.  I'm being hugged again.  loves me.


The next page on my pager will be the tie breaker.  What will it be?


How precious is your unfailing love, O God!  All humanity finds shelter in the shadow of your wings.  Psalms 36:7  NLT

white robes

     In Style, Glamour, People, Vogue - they all talk about the essential little black dress.  That important wardrobe staple that makes you look great, thin, sexy, fun.  It is a must for every fashionable woman.

     I've noticed a distinct lack of literature or advertising on the big, white lab jacket.  The big, white lab jacket is the exact opposite of the little black dress.  It is not flattering.  It envelops you from your neck to your knees.  It is not sexy.  It gets you labeled as "the bearer of bad news" and "the angel of death". 

     The big, white lab jacket is a nice barrier to possible germs from those we sit with, and the tears and snot of those we hug.  But I never think longingly about it, or hope for an occasion to wear it.  The only "must have" about this garment is a "I must have this washed now."

     I'm thinking that maybe God might need to come up with a different enticement for eternity-spanning clothing.  Right now one year of this white robe is all I can take.

After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands.  Revelation 7:9 NIV

you might be surprised

I responded to a code blue in the heart center, and found myself with an elderly man who was worried sick about his wife.  He became my charge as she was taken to CCU.  His name was Stanley, watery red eyes and toothless grin, country as they come - his nervousness and tears welling up into a stream of conversation.


"You might be surprised that I'm so emotional.  It's just that Ruby and me is two peas in a pod."


We sat down in the waiting room together.  I remembered Dykstra writing about how chaplains have this unique gift of time to give.  Sitting with him was my job.  There were four other chaplains on site.  The pager was covered.  I was all Stanley's.  I turned toward him, with my hand occasionally on his shoulder. And listened.


     About his family.  "You might be surprised to know that I'm one of nine.  All my kin folk from bout 20 minutes up yonder."
     About his 38 years of work at the mill.  "You might be surprised to know how much I knew'd about mill stuff.
     About meeting Ruby at the mill.  "You might be surprised to know that we was married 3 weeks after I see'd her the first time."
     About the love of his life.  "You might be surprised to know that we is still in love after 41 years.  If you'd see'd one of us, then yous was gonna see'd the other. We's close like thet."
     About cooking.  "You might be surprised to know what I kin cook up."
     About every possible detail on how to make hamburger steak, tater pie and nana pie.  "You might be surprised what a bit of lemon does to sweet tater pie.....


And then his granddaughter arrived.  And I was dispatched to another call.  And then lunch.


But Stanley, you might be surprised how much I enjoyed listening to you.  You might be surprised how much your affection and tears touched my heart.  You might be surprised to know I'm still thinking about you and Ruby and hoping for a happy ending.


"If I were in your shoes, I'd go straight to God, I'd throw myself on the mercy of God. After all, he's famous for great and unexpected acts; there's no end to his surprises.  Job 5:8   Message Bible