There is a spirituality to waiting, the stillness required to co-create new life.
Balancing anxiety and hope, pressing down the urge to do
is sacred work.
(Tuesday is my last day with the mamas and babies I’ve loved all summer. I’ll miss them tons.)
I’ve been both poetic and snarky about my summer as a hospital chaplain. There are some things about it that I will not miss at all. But for the most part, it has been an amazing experience for which I am deeply grateful. So, in no particular order, here are the things that have made my summer wonderful:
Lee Ann, Megan, JP, Henry, Susan, Mike, Nadine, and me.
Did I say no particular order? That goes for the end of the list, but number one in all respects is my team! We are seven interns and one supervisor. Among us are many lifetimes of experience – a former federal judge, retired nurse, social worker – all focused on sitting with whoever needed a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen. I learned from each and every one of them how to be a better pastor and a better person. We’ve been with each other through grief, struggle, frustration, joy, and relief. We had a lot of fun and every member of the team knows that a sense of humor is the number one survival skill in stressful jobs. A sense of humor and hot cookies (see below).
I am about to be a student again, and after that get on the lowest rung of the church ladder to start a new career. So pardon me if one of the things I will miss from this summer is the power trip of my badge. With this baby, I could swipe my way into three emergency rooms, gain access to the highly secure NICU, and, most important, get a 10% discount at the cafeteria – that’s 10% off every slice of pie and cake I had while on call. And 10% off hot cookies.
Nurses. Sure, I’m impressed with the doctors, clinical assistants and social workers I met this summer, but I was blown away by every single nurse with whom I worked. They all did more than attend to the health of their patients – I saw them cry with parents who lost a child, hold hands with dying patients, negotiate with families in conflict, and have conversations with premature babies. If a chaplain shows up unexpectedly in the middle of a crisis, you can bet it was a nurse who made the call. Even at the end of a 12-hour shift, these women and men can still keep their cool in an emergency and soothe a child visiting a sick parent.
I’m going to miss my patients and their families. In some units, patients are only there for a day or two, but in my units (antepartum and NICU) there are patients and families who have been in the hospital all summer long. I’ve gotten to know them and see them thru that strange mix of anxiety and hope that is part of high-risk pregnancies and birth. I “met” some babies before they were born. After I leave, they will still be working hard at what babies do – learning to eat, getting bigger and stronger. I won’t know how they are doing or when they go home, but I won’t be able to stop imagining it…All of them have blessed me tremendously.
Honestly, I have never worked in a place with so many polite and friendly people. Every single one of them will offer you directions if you look the slightest bit lost. Nurse, administrator, janitor – doesn’t matter. You cannot go down a hallway without smile after smile after “how are you today?” And if you choose to answer, they will stop and listen. It is contagious and I hope I stay infected.
Y’all, I may never be able to work anywhere ever again that does not have hot cookies at least once a week. Huge-as-your-face hot cookies. And co-workers who page you so that you don’t miss out on the yumminess.
I love the theological discussions that happen in seminary – in class and on the fly – but the discussions in CPE have been different. We weren’t talking about theological concepts in a vacuum, isolated from real life, we were living through applied theology. Where is God in the midst of suffering? How do you find hope in a trying situation? What resources help people cope with stress? Or…How can I be more “there” for other people? How do I better identify their needs? How can I stop trying to fix people and just be with them?
To my colleagues, my babies, the nurses, and the cookies: Thanks so much from the bottom of my heart.
On this, the occasion of my penultimate day of on call as a hospital chaplain, I am feeling reflective…and a little snarky about the whole experience. While this program has been mostly wonderful and transformative for me, there are some aspects of it that I will be more than happy to kiss goodbye.
The Sleep Room. One of the perks of staying overnight at the hospital is having a sleep room to, uh, sleep in. So, that’s good. It has a nice 8th floor view and a microwave. Yea! But I will not miss the bed at all. It looks harmless, those crisp white cotton sheets look comfy but they cover a block of granite. At least that is what it feels like at midnight. (I did bring my own pillow.) Sure, there are lots of other people who have overnight on call here, but they actually get paid. Which is what I’ll require in order to ever sleep on this bed again.
I will also not miss the sink in the sleep room. When you stand close enough to use it, the dispenser to the left automatically spits out a few inches of rough brown paper towel whether you need it or not. (I preferred using the rough cotton towels. Good for exfoliation.) I did appreciate the warning sign on the blow dryer – NOT FOR USE ON SKIN. Phew. I was just about to dry my hands with that thing.
My Pager. I don’t think I need to say too much about this one. Does anyone like them?
Sharing a Computer with 5 People… We all needed it throughout the day to track our work or look up patient info. Sharing can either build or destroy community – thankfully my peers did the former. More on that in the next post.
…and tracking every minute of my day. I used to work mostly from home whenever I wanted. As long as the work got done, I was fine. All summer long I’ve been tracking my time down to the minute on two different databases. Not only where I was and what I was doing, but what kind of spiritual/emotional/psychosocial assessments I was making. One helpful tip I can pass on: spirituality doesn’t translate well to databases.
Beets. This seems like an odd one, but all summer the cafeteria has been pushing beets AND I AM SO OVER IT!!! I don’t like them and I don’t need anyone making cutesy displays and hawking free samples. No, no, no.
And finally, Military Time. If I never have to calculate what time it is on a 24-hour clock again…it’ll be too soon.
If Austin were a religion, swimming in Barton Springs Pool would be its baptism – and there is nothing that will make you feel more fully Austin-ized that taking that leap during the full moon. If you happen to do it after the setting sun has raised temps into triple digits, all the better.
Tonight, my daughter and I made the trek to the spiritual center of Austin, passing games of ultimate frisbee and zorb ball soccer (if you haven’t seen that…google it, but make sure you are sitting down). We were there for the cool, clear water that bubbles up through the limestone. We were there to hang out with hundreds of people of all ages and bathing suit styles (or not). We were there to howl.
Shortly after sunset, when the full moon rises, everyone at the pool begins to howl like wolves. Simultaneously stunning and hilarious, it is deeply weird, which is why it is so perfectly emblematic of my city. If you are lucky, a couple of our famous bats will fly overhead. After about an hour of swimming and howling, Austin has been tattooed on your soul. You’re in for good. And unlike other forms of baptism, this one can been repeated as often as you like.
…it goes by too fast. Faster than you can jump into the lake.
All gone.
I’ve been reading some great books this summer and watching some great videos – all part of my chaplaincy training. (None of them are pictured above, but look at those titles!) The material and the discussions are changing the way I experience my encounters with just about everyone, not just patients, and also helping me develop skills to better listen and respond to people’s needs – spoken and unspoken. Check it out:
Wit – We watched the HBO movie adaptation of the play, featuring the incomparable Emma Thompson and the amazing Audra McDonald. This movie was a crash course in empathy in a medical setting. Heartbreaking.
Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg. Rosenberg’s project is to have us rethink the way we use language, thinking, and judgments. The four components of nonviolent communication are observations of what is actually happening, identifying the feelings present in the situation (and what real feelings are), articulating the needs connected to those feelings, and the actions we can take to address the real needs people have. It sounds simple, but it isn’t! Most of us have learned a totally different way to handle communication and conflict, and this book presents a totally new approach.
Extraordinary Leadership, by Roberta Gilbert. This book takes family systems theory and applies it contexts particular to clergy – but really the principles can apply to any organization. It is nearly impossible for me to boil the theory down here, but we’ve learned a lot about the anxiety that is present in all human interactions, the roles we all learn to play in our families of origin – and how those roles are recreated in other relationships (social, professional, etc.), and how leaders can help the organizations they serve navigate the chaos and emotional intensities that inevitably arise when people live, work, and worship together.
Brené Brown. No particular book, just her entire project! I am a big fan of Brown’s work on shame and vulnerability – and wholehearted living. But I always thought about it in terms of my own life – my particular sources of shame and vulnerability, the risks I am willing to take. Now, I am learning to think about these concepts as I meet, listen to, and minister to strangers.
And then there are the amazingly wise chaplains who have taught us from their own experience. Today, our whole group of chaplain interns gathered at the feet of a woman who opened the discussion with a quote from Leonard Cohen:
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
It is true. At a hospital, almost everyone feels broken in one way or another; most people feel extraordinarily vulnerable and imperfect, hopeless and isolated. But there is light in their troubles, in their wounds, in their mortality. There is light in their relationships and anxieties, in the words and silences we share. Once in a while, sitting with people I’ve only just met, there is a glimpse of these rays of light shining thru the cracks. What seemed like utter brokenness becomes an occasion of grace and blessing. It is those moments that illuminate all the others, the occasions into which light yet to find its way.
Books and discussions help me identify the miracles that can happen when I truly listen, when I am utterly present with another person. But nothing replaces the experience of begin with another when the light gets thru the cracks in their life, when they experience hope in their desolation, when they know love while they are feeling most isolated. If I experienced nothing else this summer, this has been more than enough.
One of the things I am learning is that you can never tell who wants to talk to a chaplain. Or why. When I started CPE, I assumed that most people who wanted to talk to me would have religious reasons (even if they were subtle). And although I was prepared and happy to talk to people with different faiths or no faith at all, I assumed they probably would not want to talk to me.
This is emphatically not the case! The reasons people want to talk to me are varied and I’d say that at least half the conversations I have are not only not about faith, they are with people who have no religious preference or no faith at all. What they do have is a need to talk and for someone to listen. When you are in the hospital, you will almost always be inundated with information and procedures that are stressful and worrying. Plenty of people will talk to you about the facts – but who will let you talk about what it all means? What if your best friends and closest family are also worried and don’t know how to help you process what is going on?
What I’ve done more than anything all summer long is listen. Almost no one asks me to come pray with them; if we pray it is an extension of the listening. I’ve heard the biography of an illness from beginning to end, as well as the names and stories of each and every child/grandchild. People have told me about their marriages, professions, food preferences, legal problems, and the absolute boredom of being stuck in bed. I’ve been included in discussions of everything from the sacred (helping families plan funerals) to the mundane (the history of the California gold rush). All of it is holy ground.
So now, I am no longer surprised at what people will bring to me. And you shouldn’t be either. You can tell me anything!
Y’all!!! There has been a fashion explosion at Maryology! This is exciting to the extent that you take “fashion” with a grain of salt.
As an antidote to my work this summer, I decided I needed to get a little crafty – use a totally different side of my brain. So I made a skirt using a pattern I found here. It is a very easy pattern, which is why it took me almost two years to make the skirt. (That’s how long ago I announced to friends I was definitely making it.) And now I have a skirt that I can wear with boots – which means I have almost everything it takes to front an Austin band.
Next, I needed a new computer bag. One with wheels because I carry almost everything I own with me – and my old bag was breaking my back and shoulders.
A red leather computer bag. I need to fly somewhere just so I can stroll this baby through an airport. Maybe I can hang out in front of a conference room and pretend to be at a meeting of people with important-looking computer bags.
Another overnight on-call is coming up. Now that I am more than halfway thru my CPE internship, I am starting to wonder about myself the same things I wonder about patients:
Okay, I don’t really ever wonder that last one about patients. But for myself…I’ve been wondering what my three-legged stool is for surviving this summer. You know, the three-legged (because that is how many it takes to hold something up) stool used to talk about investing, leadership, or even Anglican theology? A timeless metaphor.
What are the three essential things keeping Mary from falling over?
Those might sound a little snarky to you. How about something more serious:
But really, what it boils down to is this:
At about this point every summer of my life, I start dreaming of getting away from the hot Texas sun and my hectic job for a place that is cooler and calmer. And for almost every summer of my life, that place has been the North Carolina mountains. As a child, moving from city to city following my father’s medical education and career, the family ties in the Blue Ridge helped me feel connected to people and a place. When I am there, I sense the spiritual power of community, rest, and the renewable baptism of jumping in an ice cold lake.
Hike around Kanuga Lake
My mother came to visit me in Texas earlier this summer, and during her stay she asked some of us where we’d want to travel if we could go anywhere in the world. I searched my mind, but North Carolina was the only place I wanted to be. It is so full of good memories and has played such a huge role in making me who I am. It is family, tradition, creativity, love, connection, and blessing. It is one place that will always be home to me.
This summer, I am not able to make that annual pilgrimage. I’ll be working until the last week before school starts and won’t get the chance to dash off for a peek of those beautiful peaks or a walk through a tunnel of trees or a late night on a back porch full of friends.
For now, those mountains will have to be in my dreams. And they are.