altar-ed

In the Old Testament, the patriarchs would mark a significant day, victory or decision by building an altar.  This altar would mark the moment forever, and remind everyone of the Holy Goodness that had brought them to this place.

As our year of residency drew to a close we had some marking of our own to do.  One mark was Vicki's God jar.  Each day Vicki took names from the prayer request box, patients we kept thinking about, staff who needed encouragement, etc, and wrote them all down on little pieces of paper.  She put these papers into a "God jar" to help us remember that they were in God's hands.  By the end of the year, that jar was jammed full and overflowing.

On Friday, our last day together, we grabbed the jar and some matches and headed outdoors to find a spot to burn them so "our prayers would rise like incense..."  We didn't really have a plan, but ended up in the empty part of the far parking lot behind Chucky Chicken.

Where the Israelites had arid deserts and the Jordan River, we had South Carolina humidity, asphalt and the faint order of fast food.  In place of large, carefully placed rocks, we found a tin can.  Nathan got a fire going.  Cathie and I fanned the smoke.  We kept up furtive glances for the police to descend on the white coated arson suspects.  And then Vicki opened the jar.  (You can read Vicki's beautiful commentary on this too.)  We began to read the names, sometimes remembering vividly before dropping them onto the little flame.  We took turns reminiscing about our first deaths, our worst traumas, the patients we still couldn't forget, the ones that cracked us up and the ones that made us weep. 

And just like in Bible times, as our smoke rose up to heaven, our altar became a holy place.  

Though the spelling is different, the homonym alter means to become different.  This was a year of big changes, of growth and learning and challenges and friendships.  One year ago I had never heard of these three people.  Now I love them fiercely.  Twelve months ago we were brand new residents.  Today we are seasoned chaplains.  365 days ago we were overwhelmed and intimidated.  Today we are confident survivors.  We were altered by being together here, and standing around the altar we could commemorate that.

So my dear Yaars - the hospital misses you, the staff miss you, William Hyatt, Tuggles, Kelly K, Bobby S, Rosetta, Flavin, Evelyn and Maneck all miss you.  But I miss you the most!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the altering and the altar-ing. 

There he built an altar, and he called the place El Bethel, because it was there that God was revealed to him.  Genesis 35:7