zombie

The other night on a busy shift at the hospital, I had just "settled down for a long winter's nap" (in the late-wee hours of the morning) when the pager alarmed. A family member of room H797 wanted information about ABC house, a place where folks from out of town can stay for free.

I rubbed the mascara out from below my eyes and put on my glasses. I grabbed the brochure from the office on the way. An elevator here, a long hallway there, my mind still zonked while my body found its way to the room. The nurse pointed, silently mouthing to me that the daughter of the patient was waiting.

I introduced myself and indicated that I had brought the information she requested. I stood awkwardly on one edge of the empty-of-patient room - Dad was off for a test. Daughter and mother-in-law sat in the only two visitor chairs, each on opposite corners of the room.

Expecting that the visit would be a "short one," I finished my little schpeel and asked about her father. What was he like? My tired body stood there while my mind would not wake up. My eyes were watering a bit from the dry air conditioning. My feet felt the floor and I semi-leaned on the wall, shifting my weight occasionally and kneeling to be sight-level of the daughter at times. I am pretty sure that I was not mentally or emotionally present, but I kept standing there. I didn't even have enough wherewithall to interrupt her droning-on story.

She began somewhere in the middle and began recanting how they got here, to this hospital, this time, for this reason. She continued on and on and on. I cannot for the life of me remember what she said. Some time later, I think I came-to. She was crying and reaching out for me. She asked me for a prayer.

I realized that during that hour I was probably at my chaplain worst. Despite that, she thanked me profusely for the visit. I left in just as much of a daze as when I arrived. I silently mouthed "thank you" to the nurse outside the room. And, by the grace of God, this woman found my presence to be healing. Grace Grace and more Grace.

And - showing up to that moment, like a zombie, anyway.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Cor 12:9

On Not Clinging

I recently blogged about Cynthia Bourgeault's talk on wisdom ways of knowing.

In her expansive wonderings of the heart, the instrument "par excellence of wisdom," she connected our heart's ability to know deeply. We are to obey the heart - which means to listen from the depths. It is the heart, she states, that is perfect and our work is to get in touch with the heart and to explore any places where the signals to the heart "get jammed."

So how do we open our heart?

This question has been stewing in my spiritual crockpot ever since.

In Philippians, St. Paul writes about Jesus' ability to have the same mind as in Christ, and not cling to God. He emptied himself... perhaps this is the secret of his teaching - to not grab on.

My morning silent prayer time is strengthening this open-my-heart and learn-to-let go muscle. It's a paradox of allowing openness while detaching from the outcome.

So today, I pray to let go, with love.

What are you not clinging onto, in this moment?

PK

One of my colleagues is a Preachers' Kid. Yes, the apostrophe is in the right place.

Not only his father, but also his mother was a preacher. She exceeded all manner of educational requirements (MDiv, DMin, PhD) for her pastoral ministry. Father preached and she ran the church (women can't be ordained in "that" denomination).

My colleague, we'll call him Pierre, explained that dinner time conversation in their house was not, he knew, normal. Who else is arguing about the conjugation of verbs in Hebrew or in Greek? Who else threw around theological discussions about the meaning of Revelations as easily as discussing the weather?

Pierre explained to me that he learned over the years to never say never. "I'll never go to University of Alabama, yuck... are you kidding?" Where did he end up attending? University of Alabama. "I'll never live in Atlanta, are you kidding?" Where did he end up living after he met his now-wife? Atlanta. "I'd never take a part time job doing fundraising!" Where did we just spend the last 11 weeks? Fundraising for United Way.

He shared with me, in a tender moment at our last celebration gathering, that his father, who was otherwise very verbose, gave him sage advice before he died. "Son," he said when Pierre announced his engagement to the now-Mrs., "Be patient." Yea, yea, Dad, I know. Be patient. "No,BE patient." Yea, yea, Dad, I know. "No, BBBBEEEE patient. As in the Greek, BE is BECOMING. BE patient." Yea, yea, Dad. Okay!

A year or so later, when Mrs. Pierre was pregnant with baby #1, she scolded Pierre for some random, benign act of carelessness. She yelled at him. What crossed his mind? BEcome PATIENT.

This is really Pierre's story but it has stuck with me.

And as I step into what's next for me, I'm taking Dad's advice, to BEcome patient. With me, with my life, with God, with others.

What are you BEing in this moment?

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ephesians 4:2

Death

When does death actually occur? When the brain stops? When the heart stops? When the organs fail? When the doctor says?

I've covered in this other post about the medical considerations.
However, I think spiritual considerations give a new perspective on all of these.

Normally, with a pending 'brain death,' an organization evaluates if the patient is viable for organ donation. The rep from this non-hospital agency gets to know the family in the final days or hours while the patient is medically treated. They learn about the patient's wishes, or the patient's next-of-kin's wishes. If "yes" then the patient, after being declared brain dead, will go to surgery and the organs will be recovered. Then in the OR the patient's heart will be removed and some time in the midst of all this, "death" will occur.

When there is a "soon to be brain dead" patient, someone from the medical team informs the chaplains about this or we learn about it from simply from doing rounds. We, too, get to know the family in the final days or hours. This is the time when the family gathers, the friends come by, the relationship dynamics are set aside (or are aggrivated) , and grieving begins.

This week, I encountered a 'soon to be brain dead' patient, an unmarried young adult with an infant son, and her family. Her father, the next of kin, decided not to agree to organ donation despite what the agency said about how this could benefit others. His reason was quite sacred and gave me pause.

He believed that since he was there when she took her first breath, he wanted to be there when she took her last. He felt responsible for her soul, having created it in the first place, and felt that in her dying breath he would feel her spirit and soul join in his presence.

I felt humbled to hear his understanding of her death. He shared so honestly and with deep grief. What grace he shared in that moment. What courage to see your own child die.

About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi,[c] lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27:46
...
Many women were there, watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of Zebedee's sons. Matthew 27:55-56

What is your point of view of Death?

Name Tags

I read a thought-provoking piece about name tags the other day.

In this article, the author recalls a young boy "...who walked into class every day wearing one of those name stickers that read "HELLO, My Name is ..." taped in the middle of his chest. And every day the sticker said the same thing in bold black marker, "HELLO, My Name is I HAVE A NUT ALLERGY." The parents were understandably concerned about what might happen when their son moved from his present school, which has a "No-Nut" policy, to a new one where any food is allowed on the premises without a hall pass. "

This made the author wonder what it would be like if adults walked into new or familiar communities with just one thing about us written boldly across our chests -- a word or phrase to help others learn something important about us.

As provoked by this author, I, too, am wondering what my nametag would say. As a hospital chaplain, I am very aware that many times the nametag says, "HELLO, My Name is.... Angel of Death." We chaplains are called to every death. And, I'll have you know, not every visit we make is triggered by death.

Sometimes it reads, "HELLO, My Name is...THIS IS ONLY AN INITIAL VISIT. DO NOT BE ALARMED," which is how my disclaimer-oriented introduction proceeds. Sometimes it reads, "HELLO, My Name is...TELL ME YOUR STORY, YOUR ACHES, YOUR PAINS, YOUR HOPES, YOUR DREAMS." Sometimes it says, "HELLO, My Name is...FATIGUED."

I reflect on the power of naming. Here at the hospital, my official nametag has my formal, 8-letter name. I don't recall anyone ever calling me that on purpose, except my evil 2nd grade teacher. My usual introduction is simply my 5-letter nickname. I'm sure it's confusing to most people since the two names are very different. It would be like reading "JEAN-PIERRE" on a nametag and having the person introduce themselves as "Dixie." That's why most of the time, my introduction is simply, "HELLO, I am The Chaplain." I think that they won't remember my name, and if they do call me by my full-length name, that's okay. It's not what I'm known by but that's not important.

Still, I reflect that the act of naming can be powerful and formative. I sense that my acceptance of namelessness at this point in my residency means that I am somewhere in the twilight zone. Or, as my supervisor wants to say, "liminal space" or "The Threshold." You know what that feels like? It's windy and uncertain. Kind of here. Kind of there. Careful that the door doesn't slam on me or hit my backside and push me one way or the other.

If naming is an act of godly ethics, then naming is also a gift of divine power that God has chosen to share with us. In the beginning God invited Adam to name God's creatures, to choose how certain life forms would be identified (Gen. 2:19). This gift of divine power and the responsibility to use it care-fully are still in our hands.

Today, my name tag reads, "HELLO My Name Is...WORK IN PROGRESS."

What is your name tag, showing up in this moment?

The man asked him, "What is your name?" "Jacob," he answered. Then the man said, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome." Jacob said, "Please tell me your name." But he replied, "Why do you ask my name?" Then he blessed him there. - Genesis 32:27-29

Service

"There is no true service unless both people are being served." - Frank O, from Zen Hospice audio series (CD #2)

As I listened to this CD some time ago, I learned about "the mutuality of service and the crucial difference between helping and serving. We see how the true definition of compassion—‘suffering with others’ —allows us to serve from our whole self and leaves us with a feeling of profound gratitude."

The message he imparts has influenced how I minister and makes me wonder... am I confirming some identity in myself by setting myself apart from the patient, either from pity, fear or by performing some action? I learned how the helper in me actually imprisions me.

Frank suggests instead that if I minister, or serve, from my own wounds (wow, I find hospitals really awkward, do you? or I imagine that I would feel so dependent on the nurses with those mitts on my hands, is that how you feel?) then I can "serve" instead of "do for" and the power differential can begin to dissolve.

I love the ideas that he provides for ways to express compassion while serving:

1. attending to the body with the gift of touch (the oldest form of healing)

2. attending to the heart and mind through the gift of listening and being completely present. He calls this "keeping company but staying alert"

3. attending to the spirit with the gift of awareness

I appreciated some questions he offered as ways to help the care seeker discover their own truths - (not to be asked right after the other, more just ideas as conversation starters) What was your childhood like? Were you a troublemaker? Who were your heroes? Is there anything that you wish you could forget? Is there anything that you wish you discovered sooner? What was the one thing you were certain of in this life?

I hope that I can use these kinds of questions in my service with the Behavioral Health patients in a way that I, too, can be healed. This gets me away from the "why are you in the hospital" questions that, ahem, aren't so helpful. (see previous blog)

"Lord," they answered, "we want our sight." Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him. Matthew 20:33-34

How are you showing up for mutuality in this moment?

Saving Others

I sat in a 12-step meeting in the unit, listening to the therapist explain the cognitive issues describing how addictions affect our brain. Next, he began sharing how, although it is scary, we addicts will need to find new friends and new social networks. The patients all nodded, some shook their heads and chuckled, knowingly.

The therapist offered that in some cases, finding a church may be a helpful place for newly-clean addicts who seek out new friends and new patterns. After some sharing by other patients, I heard one say how at first, his new church really helped him. Then he got really involved and really active. He led trips, helped the homeless, taught Sunday school, held bible study, and really over committed himself.

I am sure that I took a deep breath when he said, "I got so busy saving others that I forgot about saving myself."

How am I like this patient? Well, I better learn to know when to say when. I pray for God's guidance, for my family's patience and for my colleagues' perseverance to help me not forget about self-care.

The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One." - Luke 23:35

How are you saving your SELF in this moment?

Time. Out.

This week I am taking a time out.

The image uploaded shows the morning sunrise from our window of this worn-out but beach-side apartment we rented for the week. I love the way the sun poked through the clouds and highlighted the waves that come crashing into the beach.

Long beach walks. Sandy yoga by the pool. Beach scum on my sunglasses. Sweaty runs along the water. Canceled surf lessons ("too windy") and lazy afternoons reading a very long book that I have (603 pages).

I recall one of my priest friends telling me that part of his job description includes "not going crazy." I think that taking a time out falls in that category.

Just rest, the meditation tape says.

okay.

The Life You Save May Be Your Own

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in You”: St. Augustine, favored author of Thomas Merton

Listening to Speaking of Faith's Krista Tippett the other day, she interviewed Paul Elie in a segment entitled "Faith Fired by Literature." He discusses his new book, The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage, a literary pilgrimage through the lives of Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Flannery O'Connor, Walker Percy.

His thesis is that through literary works, each of these authors found their own authenticity to grow and be themselves, while making a difference in the world. Through each author's own struggle to become them-SELF, they found an integrity that saved their SELVES and thus fueled their writing and work in the world.

For example, Thomas Merton's restlessness provided a tension in his life as a monk and writer. It fueled his on-going questioning about how he was to serve God and grounded him with a sense of determination that drove his contemplative life, his inner journey. He, having gotten to the monastery of Gethsemane in Kentucky, which he thinks is really the perfect place on God's earth for him, he then proceeds to imagine other places that would be more perfect, and he does this scarcely leaving the monastery for the next 20 years.

Paul Elie writes, "He imagines monasteries in the Andes or on an Indian reservation, or hermitages in France or in the hills of Italy, or in the Far West or in Alaska, again and again thinking, 'If I could only find this place that was ordered to my peace and solitude and experience of God, everything would be right.' And this is what, in his case, one of his mentors identified as Augustinian restlessness. "We are restless until we rest in you." And this feeling of restlessness was the core of Merton's spirituality."

Ms. Tippett later asks Mr. Elie to tell the story of the title of this book and what that phrase means to him. Mr. Elie explains that it comes from a story of Flannery O'Connor's.

"The story was originally called "The World Is Almost Rotten." But O'Connor's friend, Sally Fitzgerald said, 'Call it "The Life You Save May Be Your Own"' because at the end of the story the protagonist drives down the side of the road off into the distance, passing one of the signs that were on the side of the road in the '50s, telling people to wear their seat belts because the life you save may be your own. This, to me, is the pattern of pilgrimage distilled into an expression: "The life you save may be your own."

So the process of pilgrimage is how we take others' stories and, while remaining faithful to them, make them our own.

As a resident in a CPE program, I couldn't help but relate this to what I am experiencing here. It is through my experience of others' stories and, while remaining faithful to them, hear my own story. I then learn how to connect my story and by my SELF with patients to become whole in my pastoral functioning. Through these dances with death and birth and trauma that I am forming my own sense of SELF that is now fueling my theology and work at the hospital.

Yes, I provide pastoral support to patients who experience spiritual crises.
Yes, I provide pastoral presence to family members in trauma situations.
Yes, I pray with folks for God's presence to be known, felt, and ingested.

And, it affects my own life. Each day, through each visit, in every interaction, I'm saving my own life.

How are you saving your own life through your inner or outer journey, right now?