Gospel. Art.

My friend said we were "fools for Christ" to get to church by 6:45.  In the morning.  Downtown.  "Yea, well," I replied, "I love the Gospel and I love art.  Let's go!"

So we gathered in the parish hall of the downtown church with a 8 to 10  folks who were homeless (or otherwise dependent on the goodness of others), as my friend opened with a gentle prayer.  The folks who gathered around that table knew the protocol.  They arrive, get their "breakfast" number, and head to the hall for a discussion of the day's Gospel reading, which one offered to read.  A deep discussion ensued.

This is a group who love God. And the bible. And their neighbors.  And love to talk!  What fun...

• "I think it represents how we are all afraid of death, but life in Christ gives us freedom to live fully into the knowledge that God loves us."
• "To me, I have to confess that sometimes I lose my faith. This reading reminds me that despite my life being in a stormy time, if I have faith that Jesus will calm the storm, it will work out."
• "In the end, it wasn't that they were praising him as a hero, but that they were praising God for all God had done.  Even after that storm. It reminds me to be thankful for blessings that I have in my life.  For this place, for example."

After about a half an hour of discussion, one man closed us in prayer. We opened up the art supply closet and each participant carefully chose a set of pencils, or oil paints, or water colors, or felt tip pens.  They picked out a sketch pad or construction paper or a small wooden, unpainted birdhouse or basket to embellish.

Silence fell on the room (except the busy workers in the kitchen who were preparing breakfast.)  The space was prayerful, as each pray-er got in the zone of making art.  For some, their art reflected the day's gospel.  For others, this it was simply a time to continue a project they had going on from weeks earlier.

For me, I sat with a plain piece of paper and attempted to draw Jesus in the crowd, Jesus on the water, Jesus in the boat, Jesus with the disciples.  I frowned at my stick people.  "He looks just like everyone else," I shared with my table mate.  This wise man who otherwise couldn't finish a sentence earlier, looked right at me and said, "well, don't holy people have one of those things...?"  He demonstrated with his hands by raising his arms like a big hoop over his head.  "A halo! of course!"

So I added a halo to my Jesus and voila!  Me and my tablemate made Gospel. Art. Together.


Here's the link to the art show that was held last year. 

How are you expressing your gospel, or your art, in this moment?

Everyone who hears will laugh with me

Today's lectionary reading from the Hebrew Scriptures tell Sarah's story of the birth of her son Isaac.  Abraham was 100 years old, and Sarah was not far behind. 

As I read the scripture in morning prayer and heard it again in our noonday services, it occurred to me - I wonder how often I have thought something like, "who would ever have said that x, y, or z" would happen?  And Sarah models a perfect response: laughing with.

I believe that when we think of our unique journeys - how we got to this place, at this time, in this life - perhaps we can learn from Sarah, and laugh. 

Laughing.  A great prayer of gratitude and wonder.  For this moment!

Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And she said, “Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.” Genesis 21:5-7

Notice

I figured out that it's kinda scary to notice right away.

It sometimes takes smooth talk, or smoothing talk.  Get to know someone a bit first.  How's the weather, that kind of thing.  Then notice something about them.  What's that they are reading?  Where are they going on this bus trip, home from work or going to work?

Sooner or later though, it's pretty clear.  Well, to me, but in that case it doesn't matter much.  The fun begins in trying to see if the other person can notice.

Notice what?

How God is Active and Alive in our lives.

Try it!  It's fun... just go talk to someone outside your normal bubble of life, and find out what their passion is.  What's on their heart?  What makes them sing? Cry?  Lament? Create? Get out of bed in the morning? Hope for the future?

How is God active and alive in your moment, right now?

Matthew 8.5-15

⁵When he entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, appealing to him ⁶and saying, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, in terrible distress.” ⁷And he said to him, “I will come and cure him.” ⁸The centurion answered, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed. ⁹For I also am a man under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does it.” ¹⁰When Jesus heard him, he was amazed and said to those who followed him, “Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. 

Make Way

One of my assignments while a Ministry Intern at Holy Family was to "play church."

I gathered four parishioners who offered to be my guides and guinea pigs and off we went. With pita bread and sparkling grape juice in-bottle, I presided over a simply Eucharist on St Nicholas day.

I vested, prayed the collect(s), preached a homily and waited while my "Deacon" (Fr Rob+) set the table. I prayed the Eucharistic prayer, gave pita-bread body of Christ while my deacon gave the sparkling-juice blood of Christ.

I felt grounded yet self-conscious and awkward with the liturgical gestures.

And, in the end, as I re-cessed after the bumbled final blessing and diaconal dismissal, Miss M called out "Make way for the image of God!" Okay, she is one of my best supporters and so I graciously smiled, all of us knowing that it is so NOT about me, or any priest up there. It's the LORD's supper, for heaven's sake (pun intended).

I have thought about this affirmation often - how delightful to make this pronouncement... no, not of me, but of anyone and eveyrone with whom I have contact. Can I do it? Can I internally say to anyone who comes near me, "make way for the image of God!"

In that moment, it made me smile. It still does. Thank you, Miss M!

For whom are you making way in this moment?

Homily on St Nicholas

Homily on St Nicholas ~ December 6, 2010

Mark 10:13-16
People were bringing little children to Jesus in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, "Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it." And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.


Today, Dec. 6, is the official feast day of St. Nicholas.

In yesterday’s children’s sermon,
Paul, or rather “Bishop Nicholas of Myra,” shared his long history –
* his possible presence
at the Council of Nicea,
* how his name Nicholas
was Americanized into Nick Clause,
and
* his gift money
to three child-brides
with coins which he used to
fill their stockings,
which were apparently hung
by the chimney with care.
In his memory, then,
parents of young children
would later fill stockings with treats.

For the longest time,
I was afraid of children.
Unpredictable, noisy, direct.

When I preached in Corvallis
at the children’s sermon,
the kids would gather around
and I’m sure they could smell my fear. After a three sermons, however,
they transformed me.

I remember one sermon
where my teddy bear
was the focus of comfort
and the honest, direct answers
I received from the children
deepened my comfort with them and helped grow my confidence.

One of my ongoing spiritual practices,
therefore, is to do
as Jesus says in today’s Gospel,
to “let the little children come to me.” Rob and I have talked about
how my challenge to hang
with the youth
raises up my fear
and so is perhaps exactly
where I need to learn.

So it’s no wonder that
I was drawn to pick up
Eugene Peterson’s book
“Christ Plays In Ten Thousand Places”
quite “by accident.”

His thesis revolves around a poem:
For Christ plays in ten thousand place,
Lovely in limbs, and
lovely in eyes not his
To the Father
through the features of men’s faces.

The central verb,
play,
catches the essence of children –
and
how we are called to recognize Emmanuel
in this Advent season.

I love the incarnational essence:
Christ playing out
in our limbs and eyes,
in our feet and speech,
in the faces of men and women we see
all day long.

And it is with some fear and trembling that I am doing “play” church tonight.
But, you know what?
Play is that exuberant,
unpredictable, noisy,
and direct
…
That kind of play is freedom
Freedom to live beyond mere survival–

Freedom to play with God,
so that all life is,
or can be,
worship.

Playful, giving, exuberant, …

We are all reminded
through St. Nick
to play.
To give.

To “let the little children come to you.”

Amen

Ring The Bell

We have a fun ritual in our work these days. Each afternoon - or more often, when possible - we acknowledge as a team the "money" envelopes we receive.

After weeks of delivering pledge cards, showing videos, making invitations to give and participating in all kinds of rallies, we now have something to show for it all! Each account's pledge envelope inscribed by their campaign coordinator tallies up the pledge cards with payroll deduction agreements, cash, checks, and credit card numbers. All gifts matter! Even the small, $1 gifts!

We collect up our envelopes, gather as a team, and march into the lobby of our building. One of our team grabs the cowbell from the shelf in our space and with a knowing nod, runs through the hallway ringing the bell. We all shout out, "All staff to please report to the front desk! NOW! We have some celebration to do!"

Amidst bells ringing and fun music launched from someone's iPod, we dance, do the hula hoop and announce our envelope numbers. Each day we hear about how we are doing - after all, that's why we are there - to collect funds for distribution back into our community. Yippee! We are doing it!

With the sound of clanking, I reflect on the sacramental nature of our ritual. It's an outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace that so many other people have given generously to help our community be stronger. We are marking, in our own way, how Spirit has moved hearts to give and inspired minds to put those gifts to work. We pray using our body in movement - "shaking our groove thang" - to show the movement of grace between and among companies.

We all show up - to that moment - inspired and remembering God's presence in our lives.


"But remember the root command: Love one another." John 15:17 (The Message)

Sliders

I started a new job.

All week we have been learning about the organization - everything from the mission/vision/values to where they put the paperclips. We told "getting to know you" introductions followed tours of several agencies with whom we will work.

Mid-week, after introductions, orientations, tours and explanations, we knew each others' names really well. We also learned one or two more personal bits of information ("You lived in China for three years? What was that like?" or "What is it like to run a video production company?" or "How do people in Pennsylvania feel about the death penalty?" or "What radio station in Asheville plays Indie music?"). By now we had names and personality stamps forming for our teammates.

There's Ms. GermanO, Ms. China, Ms. Harley, Mr. Mom, Ms. Three-Dog-Night, Mr. Cincinatti, Ms. Katydid, Ms. Snacks-R-Us, Ms. WeekendPlan, Mr. Americorps and our fearless teamleader, Ms. WeCanDoAnything.

So, what's a team to do but go to the YMCA for team building exercises?

Really? *yawn* been there. done that. - Was the bubble over my head.

After a warm-up, I got really into one of the exercises. It really challenged our team-work. Standing in a circle, our goal was to pass the golf ball from one person to the other. On gutter-shaped PVC sliders. The kind that allow the ball to roll really quickly if one is not careful! The challenge was that only five of the ten team members had sliders - the others had to quickly grab one out of the hands of the others after the ball made it's way around. Once we developed a circle-style, our team coach challenged us to move the ball half-way down the football field, using the few sliders, and deposit the ball into an upside down caution cone.

With creativity, patience, dignity, encouragement, focus, diligence, and not a few prayers, we did it! We all had a lot of fun along the way of making our goal.

In the midst of this "game" I realized that these kind of "silly" team games are really helpful. I know for me, I got out of my head and got really into the moment. I found myself busting through the personal space of quite a few people. I heard my voice spontaneously encouraging others. I felt embarrassed when I made a mistake that let the team down. I was inspired by the creative support that I felt from my newly-met team-mates.

Now, in this quiet moment, I think that team-building exercise was a lot like keeping a spiritual practice. For example, my morning prayer routine: I need to just show up, even if I have "been there, done that" before. I remind myself that I am different now than I was "then." When I read the scripture, it touches me in a new place, kind of like those sliders. They help me get out of my head. I find myself sometimes busting through with a personal prayer in the midst of a canticle. I sometimes hear the voice of Spirit encouraging me. I try to confess to God my shortcomings and give thanks for the grace to keep going.

May my heart remain soft and my feet grounded for the work that will come in the next 10 weeks!

What kind of "sliders" do you have in this moment?

I See Ewe

A funny thing happened on the way to the south beach of Iona.

Until this point, every sheep, cow, horse, chicken, dog, cat and "every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth," pretty much shied away from me. There were several times when I would be hiking through their pasture and these four-leggeds would run away very frightened. The very healthy, happy cows in southern France would simply look at me, continue chewing their cud and disdainfully look the other way with a distant "don't bother me" look.

Until this point. I walked into the field that hung on the edge of the island. There were hundreds of happy sheep milling about, baa'ing their way through the afternoon and munching on the low-cut grasses on the knoll. I noticed several tufts of "hair" (okay, wool) about on the ground and saw that about half the sheep had been recently been sheared.

I looked at this one sheep about three paces in front of me on the path and suddenly she looked right back at me. No kidding. We locked eyes. She continued walking towards me keeping the stare. I said outloud, "is there something I can do for you today, missie?" and without speaking a word, she proceeded to rub her face, neck, ears and nose on my knee/thigh. rub rub rub without any fear, just kind of mumbling how good that felt. She nearly pushed me over.

Okay, it was a little intimate, but funny, too. When I 'felt' a pause, she looked up and walked on her way. So did I. Even now, if I close my eyes I can still smell her scent and feel the weight of her body nearly pushing me over!

I wondered if that's what it's like for God. God locks eyes. She rubs and rubs, loving our bodily selves and finding some wonderment is what our bodies feel like. It's very, um, incarnational! And still now, I can feel God's presence, God's weight, nearly pushing me over.

Or, perhaps I am seeking God and now I feel that I have locked eyes, I want to feel God's presence all over me. I want to rub and rub and feel what God feels like. Scratch me behind my ears!

How do ewe see God, in this moment?

1985

I've gone through phases in my life when I indulged in random, specific, niche-like, passionate interests.

One summer, I collected pictures of a longed-for red TR7. One fall, I read every book I could about Beryl Markham. One spring, I attended every Grand Prix Puissance event that was held. After getting my driver's licence, I would drive with my best friend to late-night horse auctions to scheme about saving a horse from becoming glue. The year that my siblings and I entered into "Mom-world," I began to sketch cartoons about what was happening as a way to find humor in the tragedy.

Many of these random interests, it seems, have come back to help me make sense of life. Just a bit later than I thought.

At hospice the other day, a man shared with me some poems he wrote in 1985. He didn't know then why he wrote them. While we sat by his dying family member, he realized why *then* he had that random, passionate muse who helped him write every day. It was because *now* he could turn them into hymns to be sung at his family member's memorial service. His nephew would sing them.

I think that in these 'long time ago' anecdotal interests, our passions link us to something that is going on in our life right now, in this moment. Or niche-interests that I have now might be useful or helpful in the future.

I continue to be amazed at how God connects these passions and our lived in a way that brings healing and hope.

Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. - 1 Cor 13:12

What is in your moment now, from "way back when"?

God of Surprises

This week as I drove down the mountain for my weekly move-to-the-hermitage, I listened to my favorite NPR show, Speaking of Faith.

Krista Tippett interviewed Desmond Tutu about how his understanding of God and humanity has unfolded through the history he's lived. He speaks of reforming South Africa and the exuberance and despair experienced in the 1990's.


Then he shares, "...and just as we were recovering our breath, the god of surprises played his most extraordinary and incredible card..."



All day this notion of God of Surprises has shown up for me. In particular this afternoon when I met with the family of a motorcycle accident victim. His condition has been grave for the last week and even yesterday, his wife replied, they were considering "survivability" - or not. It was certainly been a despairing place.



Then, surprisingly, this morning he moved his arms. The family requested a meeting and the doctor was available. The chaplain (me) arrived just at the start as they began chatting. The second opinion neurologist appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The nurse was available to hear what the doctor recommended. All within two hours, the God of Surprises acted in a previously unplanned and unexpected way.



I count on this God of Surprises to bring newness every day. It's not always so smooth and it's not always good news, either. I do count on God to surprise me. I guess that's something to add to my pastoral theology paper!



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 (The Message)





How is God surprising you in this very moment?

Finish The Sentence

Recently we have had a series of curious messages on our pager.

For some reason, the communication team sends a long text message about what kind of trauma is on it's way and how long it will take to get here, but we only get the first 20 characters. For example, here are a few recent ones:

"Trauma Alert: GSW to the "
"Trauma: GSW through and "

"Trauma Alert: ETA 9 - mo "

and my personal favorite:

"Code Trauma - Pt is "

I was on call when the last one came in. In our usual style, I read the pager out loud and heard a variety of clever responses from my whitty chaplain-mates.

...naked?

...happy?

...here?

...asking for a Chaplain?

A few of these responses were actually correct!

I've written before (and again) about clever fill-in-the blank exercises that we can complete to expand how we envision God and God's relationship to humanity. These usually come from serious didactic session with our supervisor.

Now, it seems, I am encouraged by my on-call pager to get creative and playful in my work. I just need to stay awake to these subtle cues. I think, "How am I finishing the sentence that God started?" Or, "How does God finish a sentence that I started?"

God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand. I'm an open book to you; even from a distance, you know what I'm thinking. You know when I leave and when I get back; I'm never out of your sight. You know everything I'm going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and you're there, then up ahead and you're there, too— your reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful— I can't take it all in! Psalm 139:1[ A David Psalm ] (The Message)

How are you finishing the sentence today, "Blog reader is..." ?

Obama In The 'Hood

My hometown is all abuzz this weekend because the POTUS and FLOTUS are in town. (President Of The United States and First Lady Of The United States - I had to learn these acronyms in our local paper.)

"Any Obama sightings?" was the common first sentence after "hello!" P&F dined a local BBQ joint ("12-bones"), hiked on the nearby Mountains to Sea trail (access to which is 5 minutes from my apartment!), played golf at the Grove Park Inn, had a personal tour of the Biltmore House, took in some hoops-jumping and a spa-treatment, and enjoyed dinner at the Corner Kitchen - which is where many of my church-mates enjoy brunch on Sunday after service.

This morning, after playing tennis at the nearby Inn, they visited Billy Graham in Montreat - just two exits up the freeway - to bring greetings, have a word of prayer, and wish each other well. (He continues to reach across both aisles, so to speak, and have conversations with many voices... liberal and conservative, and those who escape categories. I like that in a POTUS.)

All this buzz... it was quite exciting. Every time we heard a siren, there was an expectancy in the air... would he show up at our church? ought we to save him a place in case he arrives?

I wonder what we could learn from shifting this type of reaction to his presence just a shade.

I'm curious if we read about the wonders of God's works in the news ("Lillies bloom in gardens all over the world today!" or "Green shoots emerge from scorched forests following last summer's fires!" or "Mother forgives son for his violent behavior and son helps teach others how to deal with anger!") What kind of buzz might we create if every time we hear a siren, we think about sending healing light into that space, pray for traveling mercies, recklessly love the parties involved in whatever was afoot?

I sometimes get overwhelmed at how God continues to show up. I don't know if I could hold that anticipation over an extended period of time. I am inspired by what Christ's God-consciousness was able to do - to just be so in tune with God's world that everything he saw and experienced sourced out of that Love.

Everyone there was incredulous, buzzing with curiosity. "What's going on here? A new teaching that does what it says? He shuts up defiling, demonic spirits and sends them packing!" News of this traveled fast and was soon all over Galilee. - Mark 1:27 (The Message)

How are you abuzz with God today?

Blog Alert!

I confess, I'm completely stealing Nathan's blog idea.

Here's the deal - there are four of us residents and three of us have blogs. Okay, we are geeks. Misery loves company? Allow me to introduce you to the other two bloggers now and their experience of this year.

Nate's 'Davar' - Nathan's blog - has a catchy subtitle. It's simply, "I laugh. I write. I care." This about sums him up! He's the one who keeps me grounded and honest and prevents me from saying "that's interesting."

His blog contains both personal and professional anecdotes. You can smell his dog here , you can learn about his practical joker here, sense his tender compassion here and there, or his ability to be present here.

I'm sure you won't be disappointed! He keeps showing up in the moment.
________________

On Call - The Spartanburg Year is the title of Erin's blog.

After serving as a pastor for a decade and a half in the
7th Day Adventist tradition, Erin brings humor, perspective and a natural talent for pastoral care to our team.

She shares her smooth, silky words with readers on this blog. We all agree, she has kept this blog restricted to only "approved: readers for too long. We want Erin to Come Out Of The Closet!

All of you out there who read this.... (all three of you!) it's time to make Erin's blog open to all readers so you too can enjoy her whitty writing and gift for story-telling.

Click on the link above to see her blog. If access is still denied, you can email her by clicking here. To help you out, I've included a sample message to a stranger for you to copy and paste... just add your name!

Dear Erin,

Reading Vicki's blog lacks context without your insight! Please open your blog to the public so I may enjoy some quality blogging, and so that I don't have to get your address from Vicki and begin texting you while you are driving. Your compliance will make this easier on both of us.

Sincerely,


On her site, be sure to read, "Bear Hunting," "Cheese Pastor," "Chaplain Down," and "Wading In" (one of her favorites).

So, there you have it folks. Two quality blogs full of wonderful, heart-warming and wrenching, sad, hilarious and whitty stories about life and chaplaincy.

That's how you show up to the moment!

Beauty Tips

I entered the enlivened conversation mid-afternoon. Three elderly women in the behavioral health unit sharing beauty tips. I had to pinch myself. It was so fun!

"My mother says that mustard crust will get rid of crow's feet around my eyes."

"Oh yea? Did you know you can take an orange and just squeeze the juice directly on these rings, here, under your eyes and that will be so refreshing?"

"Well, I heard from a white woman that you can take Crisco lard and paint it on your face, like this...and do you know that in the morning you will feel like a whole new woman?"

"Once I even took a piece of fat back, doused in salt, and rubbed it all over my body - it was so cleansing - then I felt soooo beautiful!"

"Oh, have you tried honey? Yea, baby, you just drip honey all over your face and then down your neck... it feels so good!"

"I even took egg whites one time, and pasted it right here... it really helped my neck wrinkles."

"You women and your make up - you don't need any rouge or lipstick! Try cool-aid! I'm telling you, I can't read or write, but I can do natural make up! And it don't even get on the collar of your man!"

The bubble over my head was, "Just think... if it doesn't work, at least you can eat it!"

Before a girl's turn came to go in to King Xerxes, she had to complete twelve months of beauty treatments prescribed for the women, six months with oil of myrrh and six with perfumes and cosmetics. ...When the turn came for Esther (the girl Mordecai had adopted, the daughter of his uncle Abihail) to go to the king, she asked for nothing other than what Hegai, the king's eunuch who was in charge of the harem, suggested. And Esther won the favor of everyone who saw her. She was taken to King Xerxes in the royal residence in the tenth month, the month of Tebeth, in the seventh year of his reign. Esther 2:12...16

In this moment, what is your natural beauty tip?

Left Behind

As I mentioned in last post, we (the Helicopter EMS) took off pretty early in the morning. After loading the big patient into the aircraft for return to our hospital, Serious-RN looked right at me and said, "Sorry, you'll have to stay here." Then she radio'd back to let our hospital know that one "of us" stayed at this other hospital. They all apologized profusely; it was really okay.

I knew it was okay as I was befriended by the long-retired security guard at this other hospital. After the aircraft took off, he huddled next to me and escorted me through the waiting room to the back of the emergency area. As we sauntered, he proudly told me about his career in the army, about his piloting experience, about how blessed he felt with his life. I felt like I had a new grandfather!

We moseyed into the "major care" area of this other hospital, me with my helmet under my arm and grandpa by my side. We stood near the nurses station until the charge nurse approached us. Grandpa shook my hand vigorously and explained to charge nurse why I was left behind. The charge nurse took over my care.

He was an experienced nurse, I found out. A leader in the regional "emergency nurses association" and good friends with the coordinator of this 'ride along' program of which I was a part. He wanted me to pass greetings along to Mr. Coordinator the next time I saw him. He offered me coffee and a space to stand at the counter for the unit secretary. Just as he excused himself to go care for someone, the unit secretary came by.

She looked curiously at me, but without an ounce of suspicion. I think that emergency room medical workers get pretty used to seeing weird things, like me and my helmet. I said, "pretty quiet in here, eh?" and she shushed me. That's code for, "Yes, it is but don't you jinx it!" As if I have that kind of power (hee hee!). Just then, the emergency room doors opened and in comes a stretcher holding a 150 year old woman, bless her heart, and two strong-looking paramedic women explaining to her 80-something year old daughter where they were going.

One of the paramedics came over and asked with curiosity what was up with me. She took time to hear my "left behind" story and then offered me some coffee and a comfy chair in the family waiting room. (The bubble over my head said, "Oh no, don't put me in the family room! I know what happens in those rooms!") But Ms. Paramedic insisted that I'd be more comfortable there. I resigned and offered the large sofa to my helmet as I snugged into the overstuffed chair. I called Mr. Coordinator and he was just 10 minutes away.

He picked me up just outside the ambulance entrance. Mr. Coordinator remarked about his buddy the charge nurse at the emergency center there. I passed along the greetings. He then pointed to a police car that was just exiting the freeway, remarking how that was his friend, "Joe," who recently helped them in some late night trauma. "We all know each other in this business."

I could see that! The security guy knew the charge nurse who worked with the unit secretary who was amused by the paramedic nurses who drive the ambulances that arrive at scenes policed by folks like "Joe" who contact the helicopter EMS crew for life threatening traumas.

I was left behind, but I was not forgotten. I was part of the web of care and welcomed into a community of emergency medical providers. Later that day, I was in our hospital's emergency center. One of the trauma transport nurses approaches me and says, "Hey, I heard you got left behind at that other hospital. Sorry about that!"

I really felt held by that web of support - all those folks so intricately connected and who feel responsible for each others' vocational interests. I reflect with my colleagues about the theological implications. This has to do with God's presence in our interconnectedness, with our care for each other no matter how strange and welcoming each other since we were once left behind, too.





"Do not mistreat an alien or oppress him, for you were aliens in Egypt." Exodus 22:21

When we try to pick anything out by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. John Muir

"Humankind did not weave the web of life. We are but strands within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves." Chief Seattle Native American Leader (1786-1866)

Up, Up and Away

The "ride along" program with the hospital's helicopter EMS unit allows folks to hang out with the "in the sky" medical team and even join them in the air for a half-day (that would be 12 hours in medical lingo.) During that time, the ride-along person (that would be me) gets to be pastorally present, surrendering to whatever comes along. I found this very much like being on call - you just never know what might arise.

My first assignment: check out the aircraft with one of the team. She explained the emergency exits, the plug for my helmet's microphone, the "off" switch for the aircraft's power and how to take the transponder with me ("in case of a hard landing"). I learned about where the fire extinguisher was. I learned how to use the seat belts, which basically wrap over the shoulders and across the lap like a straightjacket. I learned my role: "When you are seated, your job can be to look out for other aircraft. Using the clock-method, you might say, 'Plane at 3 o'clock' or 'Tower wire at 9 o'clock,' okay?" Oh, um, okay!

Methodically, she checked out the safety of the aircraft in between instructions and safety education. Clearly, this woman was comfortable with multi-tasking.

Next, back to the common area of the base. It is a comfortable but not fancy space with couches, a 32" TV and WII device, a cold draft flowing under the front door, and good lighting. The decor includes various greeting cards, notes about safety and a window-enclosed American flag given by a unit of the armed services in memory of the 2004 flight crew that perished in an accident. We hung out in this common area as the two medical team (my chatty buddy nurse and a very focused, serious-looking paramedic) and pilot inventoried their gear and shared light conversation. Serious-lady was also taking down the base's Christmas tree.

Fairly early, we got a call. In the base office, there are no overhead announcements or fancy buzzers or ringing bells or flashing lights. It was a telephone call, just as benign as any other call. Chatty buddy got the basic info, called out in a gentle voice that we were going to such-and-such county hospital and off we went.

I followed chatty buddy closely. Her easy going nature allowed me to ask her naive questions without an ounce of shame. As we approached the aircraft, she paused and looked at the pilot. My chatty buddy waited for him to change from the "fist" gesture to a "thumbs up" sign - just like she taught me in the check in. Hey, they really use this stuff!

We lifted off within minutes of getting the call. I was still smashing my helmet into my head (wow there's a lot of foam in this thing) and finding the buckle when I heard chatty buddy communicate to our hospital that we were outbound to pick up a patient. When she then radio'd ahead the other hospital, we found out that he was a big person. Very big. Like 375 pounds big. "We can hold the weight, no problem" the pilot replied to us all.

We flew about 8 minutes. I was alternating between "looking out for other aircraft" and adjusting the amazing wrap-around seatbelt when the pilot announced "2 minutes" until landing. The serious-lady took over the radio communications and got further details about the patient.

We landed without even any kind of bump. Heck, I've landed harder on my office chair when returning from a chaplain visit. Once we were on the ground, I fumbled with my helmet and seatbelt and walked quickly (kind of ducking, like they do in the movies) toward the waiting ambulance. They drove us around the parking lot to the emergency center entrance of the other hospital.

We traveled in a pack and I felt so honored to be in this company. These two strong, athletic, female paramedic/nurses, me, two gigantic EMS men with bright green jackets and a stretcher. We arrived en-force in the unit where we picked up the patient. (Well, they all shifted him from his bed-like-medical-device to the skinny board used in the aircraft.) We all herded out, placed him in the ambulance and rode through the parking lot. He WAS a big guy, so I really appreciated why they used an ambulance to move him and not even think of wheeling him down the parking lot between the cars.

A second set of EMS folks arrived to assist in loading the big guy into the aircraft. As four EMS guys and the two paramedic/nurses moved him into position, they all realized that the only way he would fit is if one of us did not go back. Serious-lady looked right at me and said, "Sorry, you'll have to stay here." Then she radio'd back to let our hospital know that one "of us" stayed at this other hospital. I really felt fine about that.

I grabbed my helmet and walked behind the security guard. He was directing traffic in the parking lot next to the heli-pad. Security guy was very talkative and his pride at serving in this once-in-a-while capacity ("I retired from the military so I know how to direct aircraft") was contagious. I, too, felt like I was part of something bigger. It so was not about me but our group effort in working with Big Guy to get him to our hospital.

I was starting to get the idea about care, about how we are part of something bigger...

I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn't just a single part blown up into something huge. It's all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, "I'm not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don't belong to this body," would that make it so? If Ear said, "I'm not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don't deserve a place on the head," would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it.

1 Corinthians 12:18-20 (The Message)

Cell Phones

Cell phones. What a unique and creative way to make a statement; to personalize one's life. Especially with ringtones, the latest fad in personalization.

I'm in the trauma bay conference room, with a mother whose son had a mishap on the football field. Her phone rings.

"Ma? Mom? Mommy? MMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYY?!! Ma? Mom? Mommy?..."

"Oh, my son recorded that so when he calls, I know that it's him. His sister must have his phone!" It felt silly laughing, given the tenuousness of the situation, but this mother welcomed the break from the heavy air and explained her latest ringtone.

Cell phones. Everyone has them.

I'm attending to a motor vehicle accident family in the large family waiting room. Great-Grandma (92), Grandpa (70), Mom (45), sister (20) and a cousin (23) all have cell phones. Each one is talking on their phone, calling the neighbors, the pastor, the extended family, the cat sitter, the piano teacher... all delivering the news about how their family member is doing and what the next steps are. One turns to me, "Do you have the yellow pages?" They understand - they are on a family plan with free minutes, but with extra charge for "information." They won't use the landline in the waiting room ("Dial 9 for an outside line) but they want the yellow pages. Gratefully, they all had their phones on "silent" or "vibrate." Except Great-Grandma whose phone rang Born in the USA, or some other rock song, when the pastor called back.

I think about how God is calling me and what ringtone God uses. What kind of "family" plan do we have with God's calling service? What tone does God use when I call? Or is God listening all the time?

Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. Isa 65:24

What ringtone resonates in your heart, right now?

Your Delivery Has Arrived

There's this strange phenomenon around the hospital. It's a robotic delivery box for medictations, mail and, well, whatever else needs to be delivered around the hospital. It's name (their names) are Tuggle, Tugster, Rx2D2 (say that three times fast!)... etc.




About the size of a small freezer, Tuggle makes its own way on its own around the hospital by wireless routers positioned on the hospital ceilings. It has a large camera-eye on the front that informs itself if it's about to run into something (a wall, a nurse, a chaplain...).



Seriously, we'll be milling about in the ICU hallway, comiserating about an impending death with a wailing family member and ... oops - here comes Tuggle. Look out. Part comic relief, part hospital work horse, part bane of the unit secretary's existence.



When Tuggle arrives at it's destination, it cries out in a semi-robotic, non-gendered voice, "Your delivery has arrived." Tuggle patiently waits. If the appointed recipient does not respond promptly, Tuggle repeats it's statement. "Your delivery has arrived." I was with one unit secretary when Tuggle arrived and annouced it's presence. The secretary was on the phone with someone and said, "Oh, hold on a minute, my husband is here..." as she went to get her delivery and then send Tuggle on its way. In another unit, I saw the classic stacks of folders for mail delivery; there were three levels, "In" "Out" and "Tug."

Just down the hall from our office, where the Behavioral Health Unit is locked, Tuggle waits and repeats any number of times before that unit secretary, at the end of the long hall behind those locked doors actually hears Tuggle. "Your delivery has arrived." "Your delivery has arrived."



But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut. - Matthew 25:10

How many times has God stated this to me and I did not hear? How many times has my delivery arrived, and God patiently waits; waiting for me to unlock the key and receive with gratitude what God delivers.

What has arrived in your delivery today?