Flat

Must be a part of grieving, this flat-ness.  Everything seems, well, gray. 

Could it be my perspective?  Day Job is within two weeks of being over.  Packing has begun for our move to Virginia.  We don't know where we are going to live yet.  I'm supposed to preach in two weeks at a big church in my town - one I've never attended, but they seem nice.  The scriptures are not yet speaking to me...  oh yea, my best friend just died.

I pray.  I run.  I sleep. 

Still. Flat.

So I thought about this poem from Joyce Rupp, called "Old Maps No Longer Work"

I keep pulling it out -
the old map of my inner path.
I squint closely at it,
trying to see some hidden road
that maybe I’ve missed,
but there’s nothing there now
except some well-traveled paths.
they have seen my footsteps often,
held my laughter, caught my tears.

I keep going over the old map
but now the roads lead nowhere,
a meaningless wilderness
where life is dull and futile.
“toss away the old map,” she says
“you must be kidding!” I reply.
she looks at me with Sarah eyes
and repeats, “toss it away.
it’s of no use where you’re going.”

“I have to have a map!” I cry,
“even if it takes me nowhere.
I can’t be without direction.”
“but you are without direction,”
she says, “so why not let go, be free?”

so there I am – tossing away the old map,
sadly fearfully, putting it behind me.
“whatever will I do?” wails my security
“trust me” says my midlife soul.
no map, no specific directions,
no “this way ahead” or “take a left”.
how will I know where to go?
how will I find my way? no map!
but then my midlife soul whispers:
 
“there was a time before maps
when pilgrims traveled by the stars.”
It is time for the pilgrim in me
to travel in the dark,
to learn to read the stars
that shine in my soul.
 
I will walk deeper
into the dark of my night.
I will wait for the stars.
trust their guidance.
and let their light be enough for me.



How are you navigating, in this moment?

Ca me manque

In the French language, there is a peculiar way to say you miss something or some one.

The verb 'manquer + à' means to miss a person, place, or thing, as in feeling the lack of it. Here are some examples:

• Paris manque à moi. Paris me manque. I miss Paris.

• Tu manques à moi. Tu me manques. I miss you.

In French, the person, place or thing that is missed is the subject of the sentence, whereas in English, the person missed is the object. The French construction literally says A is missing to Z, where in English we says Z misses A. I love how the language challenges me to think about what I am saying.

Which brings me to what I miss. "I miss ministry," I found myself lamenting the other day.

I miss being part of explicit healing and wholeness. I miss that marginalized and "on the edge of things" sense of being that comes with being a Chaplain. I miss explicitly praying with so many people every day. I miss the awkwardness of wondering if patients or families even want a prayer. I miss my colleagues and our sick sense of humor. I miss being called on my sh*t.

Then again, I don't miss being on call for 30 hours at a time. I don't miss being in the midst of wailing mourners who are crying out to God why why why. I don't miss being reminded day after day of the suffering that we humans go through. I don't miss living part time in Spartanburg.

I think that I'm just grieving.

Which is why the French way of saying "ca me manque" is really apropro. Ministry is not really missing me, ministry is missing TO me. I am struggling to remember that I am doing ministry in any kind of work I do. So part of my spiritual practice these days is to accept what I am doing now as really a step towards what is next. It's a reframe.

With God's help and grace, I see how working as a fundraising rep for United Way in the area of Healthcare is ministry. I pray for God to turn my heart of stone for "business" to a heart of flesh for relationships and for Love. I pray that I, too, can "connect the dots" - as our business slogan says - that the work I am doing to raise awareness of needs, will also soften the hearts of people who can give and thus make our community stronger. Jesus, I pray, keep me awake. Help ministry to not miss me.

Jesus said, "You're tied down to the mundane; I'm in touch with what is beyond your horizons. You live in terms of what you see and touch. I'm living on other terms. I told you that you were missing God in all this. You're at a dead end. If you won't believe I am who I say I am, you're at the dead end of sins. You're missing God in your lives." John 8:23 (The Message)

What is missing to you as you show up, in this moment?

Evangelism

At first, I could not understand why someone was calling me at the hospital from the hospital. Yes, you read that right. The caller repeated his name and title, "Security for the hospital," and informed me that unfortunately, my car had been broken into.

I was definitely in denial as I walked out to the employee parking lot. Down the steps, across the street, and the last parking slot just before the empty field next to the lot. Hmm. There is the police, taking fingerprints. There is the security guy, taking in the scene.

Are you kidding me? was the bubble over my head. I just finished the 30th hour on call and was fixing to eat lunch and leave. It had not been a difficult night, just the regular stuff: traumas, codes, regional-one-helicopter-drop-offs and patients in distress. I had some "sleep" between 2:45 and 6:45. Now this.

What did the theif take?

My binder of dozen CD's - some home-made, some store-bought, some friend-given.

My clothes for Monday (shoes, sweater, pants) and my dirty laundry (I was headed home after this).

My bible-on-CD set.

I'm pretty sure that "Don't steal" is one of the Ten Commandments - even one biblically-challenged as me can remember that one. But if you are going to steal, careful! Maybe the thief needed the bible-on-CD more than I did?

In the midst of this thiefing, I reflect on my own reactions. After inventorying my missing goods to the police, contacting my insurance agent and moving my car - after "doing" all that was needed to get through this trauma - I broke down. I was a mess. I wailed. I moaned. My colleague, C, held me up and brought me a sandwich for my drive home. I am embarrased to admit that it wasn't until about an hour later, that I realized that God was with me in that mess.

I found strength in remembering the reaction of the wife of a newly deceased man in the emergency center some months ago. Yes, honestly, this is what came to mind, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..." And the wife's round face, with her tears streaming abundantly like rivers and messing up her make up. Her big brown eyes looked up as she wailed for some time, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..."

In the midst of this all, You are with me. You held me close. I felt You!

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10

Dangerous Liaisons

He never did explain what the tatoo meant to him. His gruff countenance melted soon after we began sharing and connecting. He tearfully mumbled what his diagnosis was and when I asked him what his tears meant, he choked on his breath. He was A Man, he said, and Men Don't Cry, so his tears were pent-up emotions. His endearing story of how he had lived through numerous "end of life" traumas (such as the motorcycle accident he described in great detail) gave him hope and proof that God was active in his life. I quickly felt connected to Mr. Rough and Tumble, who allowed a very private, vulnerable gentle man to be with me.

***

She is her twin sister. She's supposed to live through this little spell and get better! That's what her soulmate has shared with me. Her sisterly love means that she'll be here at the hospital by her side until she can come home. Of course! I quickly felt connected to this woman, whose very ill sister in critical care was *still* on a ventilator after more than a week. If it was my sister, well, I'd be a mess.

***

This young adult has been at the hospital, moving between critical care and step-down, since last summer. He's inspired in me the capacity to ask direct questions about scary-to-me issues. He has evaded just as many questions as I've gotten the nerve to ask. He's told me to leave when he wants to be alone and grasped my hand seeking prayer when he feels desperate. How will I say goodbye to him - as I know that at some point, one of us will leave this hospital.

***

These are just a few of the liaisons that I have experienced today. In these interactions, I simply show up. With God's help, I try to be fully present. It's dangerous work to expose my heart. So when I leave, I say a little prayer in my heart for peace.

"Now I'm turning you over to God, our marvelous God whose gracious Word can make you into what he wants you to be and give you everything you could possibly need in this community of holy friends. - Acts 20:32 (The Message)

What liaisons are showing up in this moment, for you?

All Bets Are Off

In our chaplaincy work, we have all been working on "getting in the hole" with patients. (See EM's blog about this and NR's too.) I think this phrase comes from the idea that when someone is suffering, they are in a hole of sorts. Well-meaning friends and family may walk passed the hole and say how it will get better, or ask what it's like down there, or say 'call me when you can,' but few actually get down in the hole and invite the suffering person to share, really share, what it is like.

It's a dark, dingy place that hole. It takes guts and honesty and rigor to get there. And, when we are fully present to one another's suffering, the emotional connection dissipates the suffering and Spirit's healing can be brought to bear. It takes time and trust.

That is to say, instead of feeling "sympathy" or feeling "sorry" for the care seeker, we chaplains have been learning (and pushed by our supervisor) the experience of empathy, where we really connect at the feelings level. For me, this is one of my growing edges - this art of getting-in-the-hole.

I continue to be baffled by my need to dodge the deep emotional issues. I have found an enormous capacity to change the subject or not invite God’s spirit or even my own sense of self to the moment to inform how to share the person’s feelings. As a learning edge, I know that I need to stay aware and awake to how I am feeling, right then, right there and try to connect with the patient.

The other day, I visited with a patient who was down in a dark hole. I sat in a chair across from her and listened about her situation. She was very animated and as I found myself getting in the hole with her, she became more animated, angry, talkative and agitated. I felt that same way! As I encouraged her to say more about how she was feeling, she pulled me right into the hole.

I felt like I was making progress... until...thankfully, a nearby therapist came over, tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to step out for a minute. Folks with this type of mental illness, he shared, will do anything they can to get you to buy into their feelings. People with this diagnosis often have highly unstable patterns of social relationships and may switch unexpectedly to the another extreme, angrily accusing the other person of not caring at all.

Here I thought that I was getting in the hole with her and it might actually help. Trouble is, I was completely manipulated to get in the hole and was on the border of becoming the target for this patient's anger. Basically, all bets are off in terms of getting in the hole with patients on this unit. Mr. Therapist recommends letting this kind of patient "roll off you like water off a duck." Oh, this goes so against my training and my nature.

This unit will definitely challenge me. When I think that I am "connecting" with a patient, I cannot ever assume it had anything to do with my newly honed art of getting-in-the-hole. Surely, I will begin to experience a different way of being with patients through this rotation that will be different from all other units.

The crowd rebuked them and told them to be quiet, but they shouted all the louder, "Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!" Jesus stopped and called them. "What do you want me to do for you?" he asked. "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 20:31-34

How are you changing your approach, in this moment?

Verbatim Redux

...do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say; for what you are to say will be given to you at that time. Matt 10:19

As a team, we chaplains have been learning about "getting in the hole" with folks. That means getting into the dark and deep places where the patient/family member is hanging out and connecting with them there. Deep companioning, witnessing and sharing can happen. And sometimes healing can happen.

It's the opposite of responding with "oh, that happened to me one time... let me tell you about it..." It's a scary place to be vulnerable with another and connect in fear, loneliness, alienation, confession, or hopelessness.

So last week, I presented a verbatim about an encounter that I had with a man who was very worried about the future and regretful about the past. [Verbatim: an account of an exchange between me and a patient or family member. Includes "she said, then I said, then she said, then I said" as well as an analysis of what I was feeling and my theological take on it.]

At the time, I sensed that I connected with him. However, one of the gifts of "verbatim" is that I can stand back and look at the exchange and realize with my own two eyes and with no small amount of humility that I perhaps missed him. I am fascinated by my blindspots.

It took some nudging and coaching from my supervisor and my colleagues for me to realize that no, I did not get into the hole with this guy. I merely reflected back to him that yep, he was in that hole. How's it look from down there?

The redux came this Monday. I had a chance to take a timed-release capsule lesson from that verbatim and ruminate on it over the weekend. Funny thing was, that I could not remember what the "solution" was for that guy. As I talked it out with my colleagues and my supervisor, I got to experience it all over again.

As my supervisor modeled one way to "get in the hole," I realized how much I need to stay awake and alert even as I am present to the patient's story. I'm really blessed to be with a team of colleagues that will be with me on this strange and sometimes repetitive journey of learning.

Over and over, I hear the words of Matthew, "do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say..." and, well, show up one more time to the next patient to see if I can get into their hole with them.

How did you show up today?