the fatted...pig

Very Interesting Fact:  Vicki and I happen to be the only vegetarians ever to visit South Carolina.  This is quite a shock coming from Asheville, land of granola and tofu, Laughing Seed and Earth Fare.  Where being a vegetarian doesn't even get you a blink.  But in Spartanburg, people think you are kidding.  "No meat?  How about fish and chicken?"  Gary, who is chaplaining for the summer told me that vegetarians are just people who sneak meat when others aren't watching. Since we all eat lunch together every day, this theme has become the running joke.  

Imagine the carnivores joy to find out that today's cafeteria special is a luau complete with a whole roasted pig.  "What a great day to start eating meat Erin!"  "Aren't you tempted?"  NOPE. But Abi did capture the moment on film forever.

So stay strong, Vicki!  And for the rest of you - gnaw on those ribs to your hearts content.  I'm happy for you.

Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.  Luke 15:23 and 24 NIV

little rooms

I've spent way too much time today in little rooms. Consultation room is the official name, but they could easily be called bad news rooms, crying rooms, your life is totally different rooms.   Little rooms with lots of kleenex.   

I get paged.  Meet a doctor.  Walk with them into a little room with family members gathered.  The doctor gives the bad news. It is either utter shock or resigned confirmation.  Grief erupts.  And I'm there to be, to comfort, to help, to guide this family through the first hour of sadness. 

Little rooms of sorrow - scrunched up faces, heaving shoulders, sniffing, runny noses, hugs and phone calls.  Some rooms get loud, others too quiet. Some rooms demand more information, others don't know what to ask.  Some rooms fill up quickly, some rooms I sit with just one other person wishing I could make things all better.  

I was called to four little rooms in the last 16 hours.  I'm getting hungrier for a place with no little rooms.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."  He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."   Revelation 21:4 &5 NIV

broken

My little Ipod is loaded with good songs to take me down the mountain and back.  This one is a favorite right now.  It soothes my soul.  And it speaks a message I want to give to the patients I interact with.  There is usually a lot going on with us that doesn't show up on MRI's or Xrays.

Here, in the words of the great poet and philosopher Jon Bon Jovi,  is "Everybody's Broken".

Welcome to the party. Come on in and disappear. You're feeling like a stranger. But all your friends are here. Little lines and cracks. Around your eyes and mouth. Something's trying to get in.  Something's trying to get out. 

It's ok, to be a little broken. Everybody's broken, in this life. It's ok, to feel a little broken.  Everybody's broken, you're alright. It's just life.

Step into the deep end. Make yourself at home. When you wonder why you're breathing. Know you're not alone. It's so hard to believe. It's easier to doubt. You're trying to hold in. But you're dying to scream out.

Take a look around. Tell me what you see.  Is who you think you are. Who you want to be.

It's ok to be a little broken. Everybody's broken. In this life. It's ok to feel a little broken. Everybody's broken, you're alright. It's alright, it's just life.

A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. In faithfulness He will bring forth justice.  Isaiah 42:3 NIV

thanks to Bill H for teaching me this verse and to Slavik and Irina for reminding me of it in January.

germs

Jake wasn't feeling great last weekend. Warm forehead, little cough. He was curled up on a mattress in our room when he asked for a drink. I brought him a cup and watched him drink it. When he was done he handed it back. I took it gingerly only touching the bottom. Dropped it in the sink and then washed my hands throughly. And then it hit me. I HAVE BECOME A GERMAPHOBE!

I never believed in germs. I would tease Steve for constantly washing his hands, and he would scold me for eating off our sick child's plate. My educated reply? "You can't see them, how bad could they be!"  (Louis Pasteur just rolled over).

But now I'm terrified of playing host to some disease ridden biological agent, invisible or not. Could it be the signs in every elevator reminding me that my 10 fingers are the top ten carriers of infection? Is it the manditory 2 minute hand scrub every time I walk into NICU? Or the disinfecting foam machines in every room on every hall? Maybe it is just being surrounded by sick people that makes me appreciate and guard my health in new ways.

So cover your mouth, use your own spoon, stay healthy... and I will go wash my hands again!

 Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.  Psalms 51:7 NLT

wading in

One of my favorite parts of being a pastor was baptisms. I enjoyed the study that led up to them. The clarifying of Christian truths in what ever language the student understood. I loved listening to the pure and honest confessions of faith. I craved standing waist deep in the water with my arm around a nervous person praying together for peace as we waited our turn. I loved saying those time honored words "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit...." And the physical bending and dipping and lifting and dripping that were all a part of this beautiful symbol.

Today was very different.

We stood in the very middle of a noisy NICU. Beeping machines, scurrying nurses and crying babies.  A curtain pulled around our incubator lent a little privacy. Mom and dad were covered in full scrubs and masks. Little baby was decked out in a christening gown and hood, with a tube in his nose. He looked like a tiny, angry pope.

Mom and dad were Christians without a church family or pastor. After the trauma of the last few days, this ritual of baptism held the promise of comfort and hope to them. They asked that a chaplain come and administer the sacrament of baptism.

I've never baptized a baby.  We talked about what they wanted.  They didn't have any concrete ideas on how this should look. "Just read a good Bible verse and say a few things and baptism him."  It sounded like a typical baby dedication ending with a slightly wet baby.  I could do it.

But it wasn't typical at all.  The setting lent a somber air.  The parent's sincerity and love for that little man made it precious.   And the beautiful words from Psalms 139 took on a whole new meaning under tenuous circumstances.  

Thousands of years ago a strong, grown up Jesus waded into the Jordan River to meet John  the Baptist.  God spoke unmistakable words of love and affirmation to His Son.  The Spirit hovered overhead.  

The same Spirit of God inhabits this NICU.  Pouring God's love on helpless little babies. Bringing comfort and strength to anxious parents.  Giving courage to chaplains who are out of their comfort zones.

I felt Him there.  In the traditions.  In the air.  In the words of the Psalmist.

 ¹³ For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. ¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. ¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,¹⁶ your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  Psalms 139

pain

I don't like pain!  I'm a big fan of epidurals and aspirin.  I like the little bandaids.  I closed my eyes and turned my head while I got my shot yesterday.  And rubbed my poor arm all afternoon.   I feel nauseous just remembering it.

And here I am.  Smack dab in the middle of pain central.  Someone up there has a sense of humor.  In room 1 it is stitches.  (no, I don't want to see your sliced arm! Keep the bandage on.)  In room 2 we have a broken hip.  In room 3 yet another motorcycle wreck.  In room 4....I could go on all night.

I wish I had a magic wand.  To make everything happy, clean and all better.  I want to erase the pain.

In our Pastoral Care class we talked about the rich experience that can be found in pain.  I had to be convinced.  But these sentences helped me look at pain from a new perspective.

People become most aware of their values when they reach turning points in their lives and must make choices or when they are thrust into decision making because of a crisis.

Pastoral caregivers can...ask questions like these: Do their religious faith and practices give people new life, or exacerbate already painful circumstances? To what extent do people experience the fullness and complexity of God's presence with them?

In the midst of loss, violence and struggles, they may find the God he or she has known all along: the immanent presence, like the oxygen in the air that sustains life. Or they may see God in wholly new ways, as though scales have fallen from his or her eyes; it will be as if the transcendent God, full of mystery, is glimpsed, as Job saw God in the whirlwind.

Pastoral Care: A Postmodern Approach page 113, 114

my hospital

Watching the news one morning, we heard about a person being rushed to the hospital I work at. Jake exclaimed "Mom, they are going to your hospital!"

My hospital! Where I go every day. Where I work. Where I pour my time and energy. Where I learn new skills and discuss new ideas. Where I am regaining a sense of identity.

Ownership is defined as "the exclusive right to enjoy, occupy and possess." I don't think Ingo A*** (hospital president) would grant me exclusive rights. But I am pretty sure he expects me to occupy... .and enjoy.

So yes. It is my hospital. My halls. My patients. My office. My emergency center. (did I just say that?) It's all mine! You are welcome to visit any time. What ever shape you are in!!

For you are a people holy to the LORD your God. The LORD your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession. Deuteronomy 7:6 NIV

jesus on the floor

One of the most common phrases I've heard in our training so far is "I just didn't know what to say."  What are the right words, the best answers, to ease the pain and the questions?

We are reminded, over and over, TO BE WITH.  That most of the time our presence will be the only and best gift we can offer.

Our model is Emmanuel.  GOD WITH US.  Beautiful.  Powerful.  Unique in every room.

Andy, a summer intern, shared a moment he had had on call.  He walked into a patient's room.  A girl there had just found out her loved one had died.  She was on the floor, in a heap, sobbing. Without thinking, Andy sat down on the floor next to her and put his arm around her.  They sat without words for 30 minutes.  Then they talked.  Then Andy helped her up.  Beautiful.  Powerful.  With.

In our evaluations yesterday I wrote this to Andy:   The picture of you instinctively sitting on the floor with the grieving woman, and then helping her up is THE picture of the kind of chaplain I want to be.

 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  Message

butterfingers

I couldn't believe it when my pager went off AGAIN at 10:37 pm.  Seriously people, SLEEP. Why on earth would you want to see a chaplain at this time of night?

Jenn had just texted me.  So I texted my grouchiness back.

E -Arrgh.  Just got paged to a patient's room.

J -Fun Fun.

E -Yep.  This wouldn't happen if my job was swirling ice cream at TCBY.

J -No. You would just get a rude large person yelling because u skimped on the butterfinger topping.

good reminder - Bloom where you are planted, Erin.

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. ¹²I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  Philippians 4:11, 12 NIV

theodicy

Theodicy (from Greek theos, “god”; dikē, “justice”), is an attempt to explain of why a perfectly good, almighty, and all-knowing God permits evil. The term literally means “justifying God.”  It is something that seminary students argue and discuss in clean classrooms for fun.  It is something that hospital residents wrestle and struggle with in trauma bays and oncology waiting rooms.  It is scary and relevant and elusive.

Yesterday I held a beautiful 36 week old baby in my arms.  She was no longer breathing.  Her mother and father were crying.  Their hopes and dreams for her were dashed.  We held her tiny fingers and touched her pink lips.  We brushed her little black curls and wrapped her in a pink blanket, made with love for this very occasion by someone who had felt this very pain.

No one asked me to review Augustine's theory or to come to a resolution on the role of free will.  Labor and Delivery is not a place for cliches or debates.   It is a good place to rest in a God big enough to handle our questions.  It is a good time to realize that Jesus knows what it feels like to be confused and overwhelmed by the darkness of death.  It is a good opportunity to say "God, I sure hope you will make this right someday."

I do believe; help my unbelief.  Mark 9:24 NASB

here if you need me

A couple weeks before I started this program, my friend Beth Anderson (co-charter member of Church at IHOP) lent me her signed copy of Kate Braestrup's book Here If You Need Me.  There couldn't have been a better time for me to read her captivating account of life as a chaplain for the Maine Warden Service.  It has focused my idea of spiritual leadership and service, and will be read again and again.

This paragraph especially grabbed me.  Kate is speaking these words to a man questioning God's love and the suicide of his sister.

"The game wardens have been walking in the rain all day, walking through the woods in the freezing rain trying to find your sister. They would have walked all day tomorrow, walked in the cold rain the rest of the week, searching for Betsy, so they could bring her home to you.  And if there is one thing I am sure of - one thing I am very, very sure of, Dan -it is that God is not less kind, less committed, or less merciful than a Maine game warden."

let me count the ways......

In Love Actually Bill Nighy repeatedly croons "Love is all around us, it's every where I go".   I've been struck by so many different expressions of love in the last couple weeks.

*A dad thumping his boy's shoulder on the way to surgery.  "You'll be fine.  You can do it.  You are a tough boy."              Over and over again.

*A daughter tucking a blanket around her mother in a hospital bed.

*A mom and dad hovered over an incubator in NICU day after day.

*A young man pacing back and forth across a waiting room.

*A text message from my mom saying "just let us know you made it to work safely."

*Yummy lunches made for the little boys I won't see for 11 whole hours.    

*The prayer whispered in my ear, for a good day, early this morning.

I'm looking!

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are.  1 John 3:1

trauma bay "I told you's.....

Parents want to protect their kids.  We spend half our lives saying things like "Don't run with scissors, chew your food, be careful with that knife, don't touch the stove...."   

Trauma Bay parents said the same things.  "Drive slowly, be careful with those fireworks, make sure there is a lifeguard there, wear a helmet...." 

And yet, despite all their wisdom and guidance and warning, here they are.  Sitting in an emergency waiting room hoping against hope that their child will be ok.  One mom said to me "I told him to be careful THIS AFTERNOON."

Here is our big moment as parents.  To say "I told you so!  Why didn't you listen to me?  I was right!" But instead of victory there is agony. We wish we could take your pain, we wish we could have prevented this, we wish you would have listened, we wish this didn't happen.

Oh Jerusalem, how often I have longed to gather you under my wings as a hen protects her children but you would not let me.   Matthew 23:37

serial sadness

I'm sitting in bed, reading, enjoying a tv show, talking on the phone...the pager goes off.  

5 minutes later I'm standing on the outskirts of a family's worst nightmare.  A beautiful, vibrant young daughter has just died from an act of senseless violence.

Her boyfriend walks past me swollen eyes, blowing his nose.  Her mother stands still and quiet, in shock, one grandfather is sobbing, shoulders shaking as he weeps, another elderly gentleman is struggling to use the cell phone, to share the sorrow with someone else.

I've never seen any of these people before.  But the expressions of grief are so palpable, so intense that I have to force myself to swallow back the hurt I feel.

 ⁹ Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am in distress. Tears blur my eyes.
  ¹⁴ But I am trusting you, O Lord,  saying, “You are my God!”                                                           Psalms 31:9 and 14 NLT

midas nightmares

I don't mind charting every single visit I make once.  I get the importance of that for the hospital.  It helps me realize how many people I have interacted with - even the ones who blew me off.  BUT we have to chart everything twice! (three times if it is a trauma). Once for the hospital, once for the chaplain records.  It takes hours.  If the office is quiet, and I am awake I can get into a pretty good grove.  IF.  Usually I mess up and start over, and stand up to clear my head, and rush to finish so I can leave.  And now I'm charting in my sleep.  There is no rest for the weary.

Last night, Josh woke me up around 2:00 to tell me he was "having bad thoughts".  I walked him to his bed, listening to the nightmare he had just had.  It was scary!  We laid down and talked about what fun things he could think about, then I prayed with him.

I crawled back into bed and as I was falling asleep, I dreamed I was charting.  "conversation with son, prayed with son. Enter."

You see me when I travel and when I rest at home.  You know everything I do.  Psalms 139:3 NLT

super chaplain!

I think we are all going to end this year with a couple super chaplain moments:  

those visits whose memory will sustain us through all 

the dismissals and rejections of regular days. 

So here's mine:  

I walk into a woman's room in major care and find her crying.  She doesn't know where she is or who she knows.  But by the time I realize this I'm already sitting next to her and am committed.  So I make small talk, and pat her arm and tell her I'm sorry and wonder how to exit gracefully.  When she starts crying again I grasp to be there.   "Are you hurting?"  "NO."   "Are you sad because you are confused?"  "YES." "Who would be comforting to you right now?"  "JESSICA"  She tells me Jessica is her daughter, and then spits out a number.  I write it down and tell her I will try to call.  I walk out and ask the nurse if I can use the phone to call Mrs. Jones' daughter.  A Doctor runs over.  "You got a name and number from her?  

Wow!  She's been here for 24 hours and none of us could get anything."   

AAAHHHH.  What a lovely moment of head swelling.  

Take that dismissive nurses and short sighted patients who rejected my offers of prayer.  

Watch out, super chaplain is here!!

But the Lord says, Now I will stand up.  Now I will show my power and might.  Isaiah 33:10  NLT

and behind door number 3!!!!

The surprise factor is a bit too high in the emergency center. Who will I see today? Will this be pneumonia or a bone sticking out of an arm? Will there be blood? Will they want to see me or not? Will I be with them for 2 minutes or 2 hours? Will this visit make their day better or just give me practice? It is almost enough to make a control freak give up and try to be open to the Holy Spirit.

Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare. Psalm 40:4-6

no chaplains or indians please

There are so many ways to get rejected as a Chaplain.

Here are a few common ones:
My pastor is already here.
We're fine thank you.
Thanks for coming by though.
I'm all good! (spoken from a hospital bed)
But none so clear and blunt as today. When a sleeping man sat straight up in bed and yelled "No! I don't want a chaplain now or ever."
And before I could take it personally he added

"And no Indian doctors either!"

...rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to Him.
1 Peter 2:3-5

first on call

OK!  This was the night that would make or break me.  When I would see if I really was up for anything.  Where I would scorn the need for sleep.  And jump at every beep.  When not even 3 motorcycle wrecks could decompose me. When I would learn where to stand during a trauma, how to get to Neuro ICU, and where to be when the helicopter lands. At the end of this night MVA and GSW would roll off my tongue.  At the end of this night I could look anyone in the eye and say "I'm Erin, the chaplain."

"I will rejoice because of the Lord; I will be happy because of the God who delivers me. The sovereign Lord is my source of strength. He gives me the agility of a deer; he enables me to negotiate the rugged terrain. Habakkuk 3:18-19 NET

thanks mom for this verse.  I love it!

the D elevator

While there are parts of this hospital that I will never even see, I am starting to venture around with a tiny bit of confidence.  Thanks to the D elevator.  The D elevator is the center of the hospital universe.  On call room? D elevator-4th floor-3 rights.  Emergency Center? D elevator-1st floor-veer right.  NICU? D elevator-2nd floor-left.   And while I may get excited over finally discovering the  3 K elevators, or the short-cut-to-neuro H elevator, only at D do I really know where I am.

You show me the path to take.  In your presence is fulness of joy.  Psalms 16:11

relief!

Nathan, me, Vicki, Robin - our supervisor, and Cathie.

Relief!  Yep.  Deep intense curious heartfelt relief.  Those were my feelings after one day with my 3 fellow residents.  The 3 people I will spend the next 365 days with, being traumatized, sleep deprived, clinically trained and emotionally vulnerable with.  The three people I will share one office, several lunch tables, and thousands of experiences with.  

I'm not sure what I was so afraid of.  Oh yeah, the scary man in the florescent yellow Happy Jesus t-shirt I rode the elevator with.  I don't think I would have survived the year with him.

So Vicki, Nathan and Cathie - I'm already thankful for you.  Excited, curious, relieved and thankful.    

I have the highest confidence in you, and I take great pride in you. You have greatly encouraged me and made me happy despite all our troubles. 2 Corinthians 7:4 NLT

it begins....

June 15, 2009 - June 13, 2010. A looooong time.

Spartanburg, SC. So far from home.

The Hospital. Huge. A confusing array of halls and elevators.

4 residents. 5 interns. 2 supervisors. Lots of people I don't know.

Trauma. Codes. Terrifying.

Diadactics. IPR. Verbatims. HUH?

But one day at a time. With the promise of strength sufficient for each day. With gratefulness for a fresh start. With anticipation for the skills and relationships I will gain. With hope and peace growing. With so, so much.......

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

thanks Joshy for lending me your verse.