One of the biggest mistakes I make in my life is in defending myself. Sometimes, I do it to my own detriment. Sometimes, I do it to the point of ruining relationships. Sometimes, I will defend myself to the death! It could be my death, or theirs, I don't care. I've been doing this most of my life. I think that it got me through some really hard times as a kid, teenager and young adult. There were so many times in my life where I really felt like it was me against the world. Sometimes that feeling overwhelms my adult sense of myself, and I find myself right back to defending myself at all costs.
At least I am starting to realize the pattern involved with this defense. It seems to happen in relationships, or situations, where I feel like I simply don't matter. The good news for me, these relationships and situations seem to be getting fewer and further between. I've managed, over the past several years, to make some of the best friends anyone could ever imagine. I have friendships that go far beyond the superficial. They are lasting, time tested, authentic relationships. I get to trust these, and not have to defend myself.
Hopefully, I will start learning the art of asserting myself, and loose the defensiveness. Hopefully, I will learn the art of being a 'compassionate disruptor' instead of simply being a provoker. Hopefully, I will learn how to move forward, without being held hostage to the past. Hopefully, I will find ways to continue growing and making room for others to grow also.
About a year ago, I went to church with a friend of mine. She is a gray-headed, self proclaimed, 'old lady'. She took me to a high church, complete with Icons, incense and Holy Water. On a lark, I went to kneel before the statue of Mary. As I knelt, a prayer washed over me in words I cannot explain. The words faded out at the end, leaving me with a paradox that I don't completely understand. It went something like this: "Oh Mary, Mother of God, give me the strength to give that which I have not received in/of this world."
I have spent many hours meditating on this prayer, wondering what it meant for me in this life. With this season of Advent, I realize that I have soooooo much more work to do in preparing myself for the coming of the Christ child. I have failed in so many tasks over the past year. I have slipped too far into defending myself, trying to prove that which I have received in this world. It is time that I start giving that which has come to me through the love others. My struggles continue, I suspect they always will. It has been a hard year. I have said goodbye to 3 very good friends. Two of them moved away, one passed away. I also seem to have grown away from some friends, while renewing old friendships along the way. I have also tried to refocus on those relationships closest to me, especially those with whom I share my living space. I have far more than I could possibly deserve.
So this post rambles on for a bit. I publish it in the hopes that it helps me to hold myself accountable. I have enjoyed going back and reading what I have written, realizing how naive some posts are, how silly some are. Some even make a little bit of sense. Any way, I keep writing, keep reaching out, keep trying to live up to what is being asked of me. Amen.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Face it square
I was watching the Walton's the other day with my kids. I love the show and the sense of real community that family has. One scene showed me how important it is to have elders around.
Jason's friend found out he was dying from Leukemia. Jason refused to speak to the friend after he found out. He even avoided looking at his friend. Finally, his grandpa confronted him. He sat, tenderly, with Jason on his bed. He told him, "You'll hate yourself if you don't face it square." At first, I thought he was talking about facing his dying friend. So, I rewound it to listen to it again. Grandpa was inviting Jason to face his grief.
You see, Jason had gotten all mixed up. He was overwhelmed with emotions, and didn't know how to deal with them. The easiest way for him to deal with his own sense of vulnerability was to avoid the person who reminded him of it. So, he missed some valuable time with that friend. It is a real shame to miss time with a good friend.
Fortunately for Jason, he had someone willing to confront him. Jason saw it as a gift, and let his grief out. He cried in the arms of his grandpa, and went to visit his friend.
Jason's friend found out he was dying from Leukemia. Jason refused to speak to the friend after he found out. He even avoided looking at his friend. Finally, his grandpa confronted him. He sat, tenderly, with Jason on his bed. He told him, "You'll hate yourself if you don't face it square." At first, I thought he was talking about facing his dying friend. So, I rewound it to listen to it again. Grandpa was inviting Jason to face his grief.
You see, Jason had gotten all mixed up. He was overwhelmed with emotions, and didn't know how to deal with them. The easiest way for him to deal with his own sense of vulnerability was to avoid the person who reminded him of it. So, he missed some valuable time with that friend. It is a real shame to miss time with a good friend.
Fortunately for Jason, he had someone willing to confront him. Jason saw it as a gift, and let his grief out. He cried in the arms of his grandpa, and went to visit his friend.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
A call
There are people who come into your life who are able to see the bigger picture. They see beyond what is really going on and can help you through a really tough time. I remember such a moment in my life, and I didn't realize at the time what a gift I had been given.
In college, I volunteered at a rescue squad. My second call as a basic EMT found me on the interstate in the middle of a huge car accident. I was alone out there with a driver. Being the only certified EMT on scene, I was in charge of triaging the patients. I was not prepared for what I was being asked to do. I literally had to step over patients to go account for everybody and communicate the need for resources. I found one patient had died, but was not willing to pronounce him dead. I just didn't feel like I could. Who wants that responsibility?
After 2 different extrications and 3 trauma patients and couple of other patients, we finally made it to the ER. While walking back out to the ambulance, I started looking for a place to vomit. I didn't know what else to do. This call had overwhelmed my ability to cope. I wobbled along, feeling like a total failure. It was then that my rescue squad chief caught me. He grabbed me and looked me dead in the eye. "You did good, don't worry about a thing. Next time, go ahead and pronounce the patient dead. You have to be able to do that. Other than that, you did good."
It was truly a moment in my life where I could have gone either way. I think if he hadn't spoken to me in that moment, I would have never set foot on an ambulance again. He saved me with a few simple words.
I realize, now, how much strength I have drawn from having someone I respect give me honest, heartfelt support. I have been able to face many challenges in my life with the confidence knowing that I had faced a pretty awful scene, and come out if it with the words "You did good."
Leadership is one of the most underrated forms of service in this world. It is rare that you come across leaders who are willing to see the bigger picture and make sure everyone is taken care of. The chief always wanted the patient taken care of, and he went the extra mile in taking care of the rescue workers. His vision for making his community a better place served all sorts of people. He even served this smart-mouthed college kid. I can't imagine where I would be in life without him. I wish I had listened to his words better, and I wish I had showed him more respect. I guess it is one of those things in life where you don't realize what a gift is until much later. You need to be older and wiser to see it. And then when you do realize it, you forget to go back and thank the person. Life is busy and full of other things to take care of. Now, I look at my life. I spent 5 years on the road as a paramedic, and now work in the Emergency Department as a nurse. I have also worked on 2 different programs to help first line responders with critical incident stress management. I've done my best to honor that gift given to me so long ago. A gift given to me by a very, very special man. Thanks, Ron, I will always be in your debt.
In college, I volunteered at a rescue squad. My second call as a basic EMT found me on the interstate in the middle of a huge car accident. I was alone out there with a driver. Being the only certified EMT on scene, I was in charge of triaging the patients. I was not prepared for what I was being asked to do. I literally had to step over patients to go account for everybody and communicate the need for resources. I found one patient had died, but was not willing to pronounce him dead. I just didn't feel like I could. Who wants that responsibility?
After 2 different extrications and 3 trauma patients and couple of other patients, we finally made it to the ER. While walking back out to the ambulance, I started looking for a place to vomit. I didn't know what else to do. This call had overwhelmed my ability to cope. I wobbled along, feeling like a total failure. It was then that my rescue squad chief caught me. He grabbed me and looked me dead in the eye. "You did good, don't worry about a thing. Next time, go ahead and pronounce the patient dead. You have to be able to do that. Other than that, you did good."
It was truly a moment in my life where I could have gone either way. I think if he hadn't spoken to me in that moment, I would have never set foot on an ambulance again. He saved me with a few simple words.
I realize, now, how much strength I have drawn from having someone I respect give me honest, heartfelt support. I have been able to face many challenges in my life with the confidence knowing that I had faced a pretty awful scene, and come out if it with the words "You did good."
Leadership is one of the most underrated forms of service in this world. It is rare that you come across leaders who are willing to see the bigger picture and make sure everyone is taken care of. The chief always wanted the patient taken care of, and he went the extra mile in taking care of the rescue workers. His vision for making his community a better place served all sorts of people. He even served this smart-mouthed college kid. I can't imagine where I would be in life without him. I wish I had listened to his words better, and I wish I had showed him more respect. I guess it is one of those things in life where you don't realize what a gift is until much later. You need to be older and wiser to see it. And then when you do realize it, you forget to go back and thank the person. Life is busy and full of other things to take care of. Now, I look at my life. I spent 5 years on the road as a paramedic, and now work in the Emergency Department as a nurse. I have also worked on 2 different programs to help first line responders with critical incident stress management. I've done my best to honor that gift given to me so long ago. A gift given to me by a very, very special man. Thanks, Ron, I will always be in your debt.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Preachin'
This is the address that I gave at our church on 11/7/2010
The Gospel reading was Luke 6:20-31
For many months now, our church has been in a corporate discernment process. We used the Healthy Church initiative to help us discern the call for this Parish. During that process we came up with the words of the core values and mission statement. Our core values are:
Providing worship experience based in liturgical tradition
Forming Community
And Equipping for ministry.
When I think back on the reasons our family joined St. Alban’s several years ago, I can honestly say that these words described what we were looking for in a church, most especially the part about community. After I had my first child, I found a playgroup to join. We were a bunch of mothers, joined by a common parenting belief. We met once a week at a park and let the kids play while we talked. We soon realized that the real value of the play date was not for the kids, it was a place where we mothers could talk about our struggles raising children. We soon began to wrestle with the some bigger questions of life, including our own identities. We, slowly, over several years, built a very strong, intimate community of women. It was that same sense of community that helped fuel our search for a church community in which our children would be raised. When we first came here, I will admit to you that I was very hesitant about identifying myself as a Christian. I had spent my entire life being hit over the head with doctrines, creeds and statements of judgment. I was struggling to find a true understanding of what it meant to be a Christian. One of the first services I attended here, was the Good Friday Liturgy. I had never attended the Episcopal version of it, I was raised Lutheran and I knew most of the words being used, but the actions were much different. Because I had a baby in my lap, I could not hold a bulletin to read along, so I sat and watched the action at the altar with intense curiosity. I had never experienced a ‘reverencing of the cross,’ so I was quite surprised when Father Maltby walked over, picked up a wooden cross, carried it back to the altar and held it above him. When he turned his face upward in a picture of pure love and adoration, something cracked open inside of me. It was at that moment that I decided there might be something to becoming a follow of Christ.
At the time, it seems like a very simple sort of change. I would later discover that it was just a beginning of a life long journey of discovering who I am as a child of God and a Christian. I decided to dive head first into this Liturgical Tradition. I found the Christian Mystics, Saints and a depth of theology I had not expected. I started finding my spiritual community which was extended to include Nuns, Spiritual Directors, Healers, Brothers and Sisters found in the Baptismal covenant. I found the words of a covenant which challenged ‘Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?’ I decided to accept those words at my confirmation here, knowing that I would fail miserably every single day for the rest of my life, yet knowing that that was no excuse not to try.
During this intense period of change, I also experienced some of the darkest days of my life. Yet, I rested in the knowledge that I could spend every Sunday with people who had also spoken the words of the Baptismal Covenant which asks us ‘Will you continue in the Apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers.’ One Sunday, I was so incredibly angry, that I refused to say any of the Psalm or prayers. Yet, at the time for communion, I overcame my own hurt and went to the rail to receive. After the service, I went to apologize to Mother Humbert, afraid that I had broken some sort of rule. He answer was simple, yet profound. “That’s ok, you community said the prayers for you.” The simple act of going to receive communion became my confession. It was my confession that I cannot give everything to myself. In fact, I would come to understand that nothing I do is truly by myself.
The words we speak are so important, yet it is with words and actions combined that we are able to transform people and communities. Jesus speaks the words of blessing in this passage from Luke. They are beautiful words, yet they are only words until you have experienced them. For in the years that I have been here at this church, I have come here poor, and been blessed by you. I have come hungry and been filled by you. I have wept among you, resting in the expectation that I would also laugh with you. Jesus goes on to tell us that we should expect to be hated, excluded, reviled and defamed on his account. Yet, our reward will be great in heaven. Loving people who don’t want to be loved is his challenge. It is our challenge as his followers. Jesus tells us to bless those who curse us and pray for those who abuse us. I think he knew that when we curse or abuse each other it is because we have forgotten how to love ourselves. He wants us to give them our shirt and our other cheek in these actions which remind us that we are to love one another.
In this spiritual journey of mine, I have managed to find people who did love me when I lashed out. They loved me when I didn‘t. I managed to fall into the hands of healers who helped me accept the healing needed for me to learn how to love myself. I believe that it is the act of truly loving ourselves that we are able to spill that love over to others. Even our enemies.
When we can match our words with our actions, we become Stewards, or agents of God. Being a steward is what you *do* after you *say* yes. In this Healthy Church Initiative, we have given this community words to work with. Now it is our turn as a congregation to give these words skin and bones. It is the call of this church to build the structure to receive each and every offer of a gift. We should receive each person, separate from their roles, vestments, jobs or ministries. We must value each other simply as a children of God bound together in a Baptismal Covenant. We must seek to have each person who enters here to find their own honored place as one who is beloved by our creator. It is through our words and actions, that people get to experience God’s love.
I have experienced the transformative power of healthy community. I stand before you a very different person from the woman who sat down for a Good Friday Liturgy several years ago. I find myself to be far more blessed than I could have possibly imagined. And I am at a loss as to how to convey my gratitude to this Church. I continue my journey hoping to find better ways of loving the people around me, hoping for Grace and mercy when I mess it all up. I will labor in the words of the Baptismal covenant which asks me to ‘proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ’.
And finally, I consider it a privilege to continue in the work of this church as we find the actions needed to meet the words of our mission statement. “In gratitude to God, St. Alban’s resolves to be a welcoming community, learning together and reaching out to other’s with God’s love”.
The Gospel reading was Luke 6:20-31
For many months now, our church has been in a corporate discernment process. We used the Healthy Church initiative to help us discern the call for this Parish. During that process we came up with the words of the core values and mission statement. Our core values are:
Providing worship experience based in liturgical tradition
Forming Community
And Equipping for ministry.
When I think back on the reasons our family joined St. Alban’s several years ago, I can honestly say that these words described what we were looking for in a church, most especially the part about community. After I had my first child, I found a playgroup to join. We were a bunch of mothers, joined by a common parenting belief. We met once a week at a park and let the kids play while we talked. We soon realized that the real value of the play date was not for the kids, it was a place where we mothers could talk about our struggles raising children. We soon began to wrestle with the some bigger questions of life, including our own identities. We, slowly, over several years, built a very strong, intimate community of women. It was that same sense of community that helped fuel our search for a church community in which our children would be raised. When we first came here, I will admit to you that I was very hesitant about identifying myself as a Christian. I had spent my entire life being hit over the head with doctrines, creeds and statements of judgment. I was struggling to find a true understanding of what it meant to be a Christian. One of the first services I attended here, was the Good Friday Liturgy. I had never attended the Episcopal version of it, I was raised Lutheran and I knew most of the words being used, but the actions were much different. Because I had a baby in my lap, I could not hold a bulletin to read along, so I sat and watched the action at the altar with intense curiosity. I had never experienced a ‘reverencing of the cross,’ so I was quite surprised when Father Maltby walked over, picked up a wooden cross, carried it back to the altar and held it above him. When he turned his face upward in a picture of pure love and adoration, something cracked open inside of me. It was at that moment that I decided there might be something to becoming a follow of Christ.
At the time, it seems like a very simple sort of change. I would later discover that it was just a beginning of a life long journey of discovering who I am as a child of God and a Christian. I decided to dive head first into this Liturgical Tradition. I found the Christian Mystics, Saints and a depth of theology I had not expected. I started finding my spiritual community which was extended to include Nuns, Spiritual Directors, Healers, Brothers and Sisters found in the Baptismal covenant. I found the words of a covenant which challenged ‘Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?’ I decided to accept those words at my confirmation here, knowing that I would fail miserably every single day for the rest of my life, yet knowing that that was no excuse not to try.
During this intense period of change, I also experienced some of the darkest days of my life. Yet, I rested in the knowledge that I could spend every Sunday with people who had also spoken the words of the Baptismal Covenant which asks us ‘Will you continue in the Apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers.’ One Sunday, I was so incredibly angry, that I refused to say any of the Psalm or prayers. Yet, at the time for communion, I overcame my own hurt and went to the rail to receive. After the service, I went to apologize to Mother Humbert, afraid that I had broken some sort of rule. He answer was simple, yet profound. “That’s ok, you community said the prayers for you.” The simple act of going to receive communion became my confession. It was my confession that I cannot give everything to myself. In fact, I would come to understand that nothing I do is truly by myself.
The words we speak are so important, yet it is with words and actions combined that we are able to transform people and communities. Jesus speaks the words of blessing in this passage from Luke. They are beautiful words, yet they are only words until you have experienced them. For in the years that I have been here at this church, I have come here poor, and been blessed by you. I have come hungry and been filled by you. I have wept among you, resting in the expectation that I would also laugh with you. Jesus goes on to tell us that we should expect to be hated, excluded, reviled and defamed on his account. Yet, our reward will be great in heaven. Loving people who don’t want to be loved is his challenge. It is our challenge as his followers. Jesus tells us to bless those who curse us and pray for those who abuse us. I think he knew that when we curse or abuse each other it is because we have forgotten how to love ourselves. He wants us to give them our shirt and our other cheek in these actions which remind us that we are to love one another.
In this spiritual journey of mine, I have managed to find people who did love me when I lashed out. They loved me when I didn‘t. I managed to fall into the hands of healers who helped me accept the healing needed for me to learn how to love myself. I believe that it is the act of truly loving ourselves that we are able to spill that love over to others. Even our enemies.
When we can match our words with our actions, we become Stewards, or agents of God. Being a steward is what you *do* after you *say* yes. In this Healthy Church Initiative, we have given this community words to work with. Now it is our turn as a congregation to give these words skin and bones. It is the call of this church to build the structure to receive each and every offer of a gift. We should receive each person, separate from their roles, vestments, jobs or ministries. We must value each other simply as a children of God bound together in a Baptismal Covenant. We must seek to have each person who enters here to find their own honored place as one who is beloved by our creator. It is through our words and actions, that people get to experience God’s love.
I have experienced the transformative power of healthy community. I stand before you a very different person from the woman who sat down for a Good Friday Liturgy several years ago. I find myself to be far more blessed than I could have possibly imagined. And I am at a loss as to how to convey my gratitude to this Church. I continue my journey hoping to find better ways of loving the people around me, hoping for Grace and mercy when I mess it all up. I will labor in the words of the Baptismal covenant which asks me to ‘proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ’.
And finally, I consider it a privilege to continue in the work of this church as we find the actions needed to meet the words of our mission statement. “In gratitude to God, St. Alban’s resolves to be a welcoming community, learning together and reaching out to other’s with God’s love”.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Layers
I read or heard a famous author talk about his first published book. He said that after writing so many other books, he went back and read his first one. He said that it was just plain awful. Yet, he decided to publish it again to show people something. He said that, like anything in life, we grow and get better at things. He wanted to offer his first book to that concept.
I feel a little bit the same way about this blog. I've gone back and read some of it. I also have come to know that some of what I have said was misunderstood. I've struggled with posting something new for over a month now, not knowing how to resolve this personal struggle. I don't want to be misunderstood. I want people to quit making negative assumptions about me and see me as I grow. In this culture, we are taught to sit back and judge one another. We do it from across the room. We might be willing to write a letter, read a blog or send an email. When did we quit talking *with* each other. Where are the dialogues? Why is it so hard to walk across the room and talk to someone?
I, honestly, think that this is the biggest problem in most churches and families. In order to sit and talk with someone, you must make yourself vulnerable. You must be willing to listen to their side of the story. Most importantly, you are not going to be in control. You might hear something you didn't want to hear. You loose the ability to judge someone from a distance. You might realize that you were wrong about someone. You might realize that people grow and they change.
I think that is my biggest struggle right now. I want people to see me as a growing, learning person. I have learned from my mistakes, and I have paid for them. I want people to make an effort to get to know me, instead of judging me from across the room. Real, authentic, relationships require effort and time.
In the past couple of years, I have shed some pretty big layers. I have let go of a ton of things as I try to grow in this new skin of mine. As I was talking to a trusted friend, I told her that I feel so vulnerable. She told me that I *feel* vulnerable, because I am *being* vulnerable. I don't exactly like this feeling. I feel as if I have been rubbed raw with all that has happened lately. I hope that this is what I am supposed to be doing. I hope that there is some reason for it. I hope that people start seeing me for who I really am, as I try walking around in this new layer.
I feel a little bit the same way about this blog. I've gone back and read some of it. I also have come to know that some of what I have said was misunderstood. I've struggled with posting something new for over a month now, not knowing how to resolve this personal struggle. I don't want to be misunderstood. I want people to quit making negative assumptions about me and see me as I grow. In this culture, we are taught to sit back and judge one another. We do it from across the room. We might be willing to write a letter, read a blog or send an email. When did we quit talking *with* each other. Where are the dialogues? Why is it so hard to walk across the room and talk to someone?
I, honestly, think that this is the biggest problem in most churches and families. In order to sit and talk with someone, you must make yourself vulnerable. You must be willing to listen to their side of the story. Most importantly, you are not going to be in control. You might hear something you didn't want to hear. You loose the ability to judge someone from a distance. You might realize that you were wrong about someone. You might realize that people grow and they change.
I think that is my biggest struggle right now. I want people to see me as a growing, learning person. I have learned from my mistakes, and I have paid for them. I want people to make an effort to get to know me, instead of judging me from across the room. Real, authentic, relationships require effort and time.
In the past couple of years, I have shed some pretty big layers. I have let go of a ton of things as I try to grow in this new skin of mine. As I was talking to a trusted friend, I told her that I feel so vulnerable. She told me that I *feel* vulnerable, because I am *being* vulnerable. I don't exactly like this feeling. I feel as if I have been rubbed raw with all that has happened lately. I hope that this is what I am supposed to be doing. I hope that there is some reason for it. I hope that people start seeing me for who I really am, as I try walking around in this new layer.
Friday, July 30, 2010
I'm human too
Much of my time spent as a new grad nurse was not very rewarding. I fell victim to the 'we eat our young' philosophy of nursing. One particular experience left me with memories I have tried to forget.
I was hired on as a postpartum/antepartum nurse. As part of my orientation, I spent 2 shifts on the labor and delivery unit. This L&D unit was a group of women hardened by working with the most critical patients in the area. They were asked to do impossible tasks, and not appreciated or paid well for their efforts. On top of that was an ongoing dislike and distrust for postpartum nurses.
I went with my preceptor into a delivery of a fetus. They had tried everything to stop the labor, but the baby was coming. I had overheard the discussion between the nurses and the resident over resuscitation of the baby. After determining that the baby was not viable, they informed the mom that the baby was not going to survive. She started sobbing and became hysterical. Unfortunately, she was a young mother with no one there to support her. The nurses were trying to explain things, the doctor was fretting over the decisions, and I was left in a corner. So upon delivery, the doctor placed the baby in the warmer next to me. As everyone started to focus on helping the mother, one nurse told me to keep watch over the baby. I looked down at this perfectly formed tiny baby. She was breathing! I was shocked. I did not question the decision not to resuscitate. I just wasn't prepared to watch this baby struggle for breath. Those experience, hardened nurses remembered that this child was a real human being. Since the mother was unable to hold the child, they wanted someone to be with her. So that left me, a brand new nurse with no training in how to handle any of this. Those nurses remembered that the baby was a human, but they forgot that I was. They made no effort to explain things to me, or help me in my task. They just left me to do the hardest job in the room. They ate the young one.
I am now one of those experienced nurses. I have spent 3 years working in an emergency department. We get used to many, many things. I catch myself as I offer up a new nurse to perform an unpleasant task. I, sometimes, am all to willing to eat the young nurses. Yet, someone grabbed a hold of me and reminded me that this is not the nurse I want to be. I want to be the nurse that remembers that my co-workers are human too. We nurses deserve to be treated with the same care and compassion that we give our patients. If we don't start taking care of ourselves, who will be left to care for the vulnerable? I am working very hard at taking care of myself. It is a huge commitment. Sometimes, I regret making this commitment. Sometimes, I want to be the nurse who refuses to take responsibility for her actions. I don't like examining my part of a problem. Worse than that, I feel like I am the only one doing it! But, I know that I am not. I have received too much help over the past 3 years defining who I am as a nurse. I work with some really great people. Hopefully, we will keep reminding ourselves that we nurses are humans too.
I was hired on as a postpartum/antepartum nurse. As part of my orientation, I spent 2 shifts on the labor and delivery unit. This L&D unit was a group of women hardened by working with the most critical patients in the area. They were asked to do impossible tasks, and not appreciated or paid well for their efforts. On top of that was an ongoing dislike and distrust for postpartum nurses.
I went with my preceptor into a delivery of a fetus. They had tried everything to stop the labor, but the baby was coming. I had overheard the discussion between the nurses and the resident over resuscitation of the baby. After determining that the baby was not viable, they informed the mom that the baby was not going to survive. She started sobbing and became hysterical. Unfortunately, she was a young mother with no one there to support her. The nurses were trying to explain things, the doctor was fretting over the decisions, and I was left in a corner. So upon delivery, the doctor placed the baby in the warmer next to me. As everyone started to focus on helping the mother, one nurse told me to keep watch over the baby. I looked down at this perfectly formed tiny baby. She was breathing! I was shocked. I did not question the decision not to resuscitate. I just wasn't prepared to watch this baby struggle for breath. Those experience, hardened nurses remembered that this child was a real human being. Since the mother was unable to hold the child, they wanted someone to be with her. So that left me, a brand new nurse with no training in how to handle any of this. Those nurses remembered that the baby was a human, but they forgot that I was. They made no effort to explain things to me, or help me in my task. They just left me to do the hardest job in the room. They ate the young one.
I am now one of those experienced nurses. I have spent 3 years working in an emergency department. We get used to many, many things. I catch myself as I offer up a new nurse to perform an unpleasant task. I, sometimes, am all to willing to eat the young nurses. Yet, someone grabbed a hold of me and reminded me that this is not the nurse I want to be. I want to be the nurse that remembers that my co-workers are human too. We nurses deserve to be treated with the same care and compassion that we give our patients. If we don't start taking care of ourselves, who will be left to care for the vulnerable? I am working very hard at taking care of myself. It is a huge commitment. Sometimes, I regret making this commitment. Sometimes, I want to be the nurse who refuses to take responsibility for her actions. I don't like examining my part of a problem. Worse than that, I feel like I am the only one doing it! But, I know that I am not. I have received too much help over the past 3 years defining who I am as a nurse. I work with some really great people. Hopefully, we will keep reminding ourselves that we nurses are humans too.
Adjusting my sails
Recently, someone told me that a good leader learns how to adjust his sails in order to keep going. I've only sailed once, and I ended up in a very cold lake! Hopefully, I've been able to do a better job of adjusting in real life. I certainly don't have any idea of where I am ultimately headed. I keep getting reminded that I am not in control anyway.
Last week, I walked into a meeting with someone, and he asked 'Are you OK?'. I reacted with the common answer, 'yes'. I, now, wish I had given the true answer. Not really. I've had a very hard couple of weeks trying to work through some things. I've decided to face how I am causing problems. I am looking, searching for the root cause of my anger and frustrations. I am becoming aware of how my anger and frustrations have affected others. It is hard to look inside and see how you hurt others. It has been easier for me to blog about how others have hurt me.
I, now, recognize there was a double edge to our decision to leave our church. I wanted our departure to hurt other people. I was hoping that they would feel the same hurt I was feeling. I think I would have acted differently if I had been more conscious of my intentions.
Also, last week, I was dealing with traumatic memories. I have sought care in coping with some of the events I have experienced as a nurse and EMT/paramedic. It is very hard to find someone willing and able to sit and listen as I rehash things. Yet, I will continue to keep my feelings bottled up if I don't spend time rehashing. I had several heart to heart talks with coworkers, colleagues and friends.
I will admit that I was rubbed a bit raw last week, wondering if I am doing anything right. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it. But, a kiss from one of my kids always helps me get things back into perspective. Getting authentic feedback is like a new gust of wind. I can adjust my sails with more accuracy now. My job as a mother and wife requires me to keep moving forward with this family as we try to find our way in this world. I am humbled, and grateful for those who do the work required for authentic feed back. However, next time someone asks me 'Are you ok?'. I might take a minute and try to give an authentic answer.
Last week, I walked into a meeting with someone, and he asked 'Are you OK?'. I reacted with the common answer, 'yes'. I, now, wish I had given the true answer. Not really. I've had a very hard couple of weeks trying to work through some things. I've decided to face how I am causing problems. I am looking, searching for the root cause of my anger and frustrations. I am becoming aware of how my anger and frustrations have affected others. It is hard to look inside and see how you hurt others. It has been easier for me to blog about how others have hurt me.
I, now, recognize there was a double edge to our decision to leave our church. I wanted our departure to hurt other people. I was hoping that they would feel the same hurt I was feeling. I think I would have acted differently if I had been more conscious of my intentions.
Also, last week, I was dealing with traumatic memories. I have sought care in coping with some of the events I have experienced as a nurse and EMT/paramedic. It is very hard to find someone willing and able to sit and listen as I rehash things. Yet, I will continue to keep my feelings bottled up if I don't spend time rehashing. I had several heart to heart talks with coworkers, colleagues and friends.
I will admit that I was rubbed a bit raw last week, wondering if I am doing anything right. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it. But, a kiss from one of my kids always helps me get things back into perspective. Getting authentic feedback is like a new gust of wind. I can adjust my sails with more accuracy now. My job as a mother and wife requires me to keep moving forward with this family as we try to find our way in this world. I am humbled, and grateful for those who do the work required for authentic feed back. However, next time someone asks me 'Are you ok?'. I might take a minute and try to give an authentic answer.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
and Dyin'
A few years ago, I was reading a book with stories of several midwives. I was shocked when I read that most of them spent time working in hospice or with terminally ill patients. I was still of the mindset that they are totally different realms of care taking. When I asked my midwife about this she said it was perfectly logical. "It is the two thresholds."
There is something very similar to creating a space for bringing a soul into this world, and dealing with the left over space as a soul leaves this world. I had the privilege of spending time with a group of women who gathered around another mom as she spent her last days on this earth. Fittingly, this same woman was a doula at the birth of my third child. I dedicate this story to her.
The emails started coming out, and we knew that she was nearing the end. One can only fight off the ravages of cancer for so long. I am a nurse, so when I saw an email about her developing a condition, I knew she was hours away from leaving us. Another nurse friend of mine recognized it. She started The Vigil. We would all meet in the lobby of the oncology floor to be present for our friend, and each other. Soon, a very motley crew of women formed. People were knitting, writing, working on the computer. Someone set up an altar on a table for us to place whatever we wanted to. We sat, cried, laughed, hugged and just simply waited. Waited, not knowing exactly when the event would happen, but sensing its approach. We searched for answers, not even understanding the questions to ask. Waiting. Finally, most of us decided it was time to head to our own homes, leaving a couple of us behind. Ultimately, death is a private event. As we hesitantly started leaving, the one who started The Vigil said that she wanted us to join in a circle and hold hands. Among us were Catholics, Pagans, Protestants and Jews. We had no common words so we just chanted one long Ohm. It's beautiful sound fading out as each of us released our own fears and anguish.
The call came very early in the morning for me. I was dreaming of my friend when the phone woke me. She was sitting in the middle of a circus, looking around at the lights, holding her daughter. The sound of the phone ring melting into the dream, bringing me out of it. As it happened, I had an appointment with one of the Episcopal Nuns at the Convent later that morning. Because I had gotten up so early, I made it in time for the Eucharist. As we approached the prayers for the departed, my tears started flowing, and I managed to utter the name of my friend. I sat in the chapel openly grieving, sobbing. I have never participated in communal grieving this way. Once I overcame my embarrassment, I found it cathartic.
The next day, on Sunday, we gathered at a friend's house on the lake. As a group of moms, we always came together to decorate something for an expecting mother. This time, we gathered to decorate a cardboard casket. It was a day full of tears and laughter. The children all got to paint whatever they wanted. It was amazing to watch them. For most of the children, it was their first experience with death. They got to see it as a celebration, and to feel the presence of a supportive group of people. Towards the end of the festivities, someone noticed a rainbow over the lake. Not one rainbow, but two appeared. It was a sight that I will never, ever forget. It seemed as God was telling us that everything would be OK. Something about a promise, a promise that tells us to trust the process. We really have no control over how we enter this world, or how we leave it. After this experience with dyin', I now know I can trust the process. I know that this group of moms will simply show up. We'll sing, chant, pray or whatever we need to do to help a soul as it leaves this world. I found this experience to be a very Holy one. It was a space filled with amazing people, renewed friendships and healing. I am so grateful for having shared it. Thanks Serenity, I am in your debt.
There is something very similar to creating a space for bringing a soul into this world, and dealing with the left over space as a soul leaves this world. I had the privilege of spending time with a group of women who gathered around another mom as she spent her last days on this earth. Fittingly, this same woman was a doula at the birth of my third child. I dedicate this story to her.
The emails started coming out, and we knew that she was nearing the end. One can only fight off the ravages of cancer for so long. I am a nurse, so when I saw an email about her developing a condition, I knew she was hours away from leaving us. Another nurse friend of mine recognized it. She started The Vigil. We would all meet in the lobby of the oncology floor to be present for our friend, and each other. Soon, a very motley crew of women formed. People were knitting, writing, working on the computer. Someone set up an altar on a table for us to place whatever we wanted to. We sat, cried, laughed, hugged and just simply waited. Waited, not knowing exactly when the event would happen, but sensing its approach. We searched for answers, not even understanding the questions to ask. Waiting. Finally, most of us decided it was time to head to our own homes, leaving a couple of us behind. Ultimately, death is a private event. As we hesitantly started leaving, the one who started The Vigil said that she wanted us to join in a circle and hold hands. Among us were Catholics, Pagans, Protestants and Jews. We had no common words so we just chanted one long Ohm. It's beautiful sound fading out as each of us released our own fears and anguish.
The call came very early in the morning for me. I was dreaming of my friend when the phone woke me. She was sitting in the middle of a circus, looking around at the lights, holding her daughter. The sound of the phone ring melting into the dream, bringing me out of it. As it happened, I had an appointment with one of the Episcopal Nuns at the Convent later that morning. Because I had gotten up so early, I made it in time for the Eucharist. As we approached the prayers for the departed, my tears started flowing, and I managed to utter the name of my friend. I sat in the chapel openly grieving, sobbing. I have never participated in communal grieving this way. Once I overcame my embarrassment, I found it cathartic.
The next day, on Sunday, we gathered at a friend's house on the lake. As a group of moms, we always came together to decorate something for an expecting mother. This time, we gathered to decorate a cardboard casket. It was a day full of tears and laughter. The children all got to paint whatever they wanted. It was amazing to watch them. For most of the children, it was their first experience with death. They got to see it as a celebration, and to feel the presence of a supportive group of people. Towards the end of the festivities, someone noticed a rainbow over the lake. Not one rainbow, but two appeared. It was a sight that I will never, ever forget. It seemed as God was telling us that everything would be OK. Something about a promise, a promise that tells us to trust the process. We really have no control over how we enter this world, or how we leave it. After this experience with dyin', I now know I can trust the process. I know that this group of moms will simply show up. We'll sing, chant, pray or whatever we need to do to help a soul as it leaves this world. I found this experience to be a very Holy one. It was a space filled with amazing people, renewed friendships and healing. I am so grateful for having shared it. Thanks Serenity, I am in your debt.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Birthin'
As I sit at my computer tonight, I am a bit maudlin. Our baby turns two years old tomorrow. Her entrance into our family has caused quite a stir. In honor of that day, I have decided to share some of the story surround her birth.....don't worry, I won't give too many details.
I drove home from my Advance Cardiac Life Support Class. I had been feeling a bit uncomfortable, but wasn't due for another 2 weeks. Yet, something did seem a bit different. There was a beautiful full moon out. We live out in the country, so the stars and moon get very bright. As I went to sleep, I started to wonder if this would be the night. At about 2 am, I got the answer. My water broke while I laid in bed. I waited awhile to see if anything would happen. No real contractions, nothing. I finally got a bit nervous and woke up my husband to tell him we were going to have a baby today. We called the midwife to give her advanced notice. We then settled into waiting. I walked around our property, enjoying the full moon. It was interesting letting the moon light my way. I have never been brave enough to walk around at night with no flashlight, but this time was different. I wanted to visit the creek, and sit beside the running water. Finally, with no real contractions, I went back to bed. I realized that I needed sleep more than I needed a walk. Shortly the kids all woke up. We called a friend to take the kids away for a fun day at the lake. Steve and I sat around wondering what was going to happen.
At the onset of this pregnancy, I had made a firm decision. I had no preconceived notion of how or where I would give birth. We had planned for a home birth from the beginning, but understood the very real possibility of needing to go to the hospital. I had even verbalized to my midwife that I was going to be fine with a c-section, if I needed it. I had nothing to prove with birthing this baby. I realized that I had no real control over what was in store. I was just willing to trust my body, my midwife and this process.
I had a few contractions here and there. It was a matter of stopping what I was doing and moaning through them. Yet, I never had more that 3-4 an hour. I started getting frustrated and scared about a stalled labor. The birthing tub had been set up, I had napped. I even ate a full lunch. We spoke with the midwife all day. I was beginning to get nervous, realizing that a long labor was not a good thing. I called a Priest friend of mine. I asked her if she had any prayers for a stalled labor. Her answer startled me "What are you afraid of?" This question caught me off guard and caused me to think. I gave the standard answers of 'pain, something going wrong, a long labor'. She kept listening and I kept thinking. Finally, I was able to utter my deepest fear. I was simply afraid of the power that lay within me. I was afraid that I would have the birth that I had always dreamed of.
After I hung up with her, I had a really, really good cry. I had been holding a huge amount of stress in my body, and I needed to let it all go. I needed to prepare a space for this new soul to enter our family. After crying, I told my husband I was going to try to take a nap. Steve went to the other room to watch TV. A few short minutes later a contraction hit, then another, then another. I moaned through each of them. Soon, I heard Steve talking to the midwife on the phone telling her to come on over. After a few more contractions, I headed for the birthing pool set up in our bedroom. I soon realized that real labor had begun. With each contraction, I had to hold my husband's hand. I quickly learned to get a little ahead of the contraction and started my moaning early. It seemed to help me from fearing the intensity. I felt in total control of a totally out of control situation. Soon our midwife arrived with her assistant. Their presence was quiet and reassuring. Soon I began to push our baby out on my hands and knees while in the water. I felt her head pass out, and I reached down to feel it. I rubbed her hair while she remained in side of me. It was the most amazing feeling. There I was, in the middle of this incredibly physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding act. Yet, I was able to embrace it. I was even enjoying it. With the next contraction, she came out into the water. The midwife assistant and I fished her out of the water, and I pulled her to my chest. As I lay back, I realized that I had done it! I had delivered this baby, by myself! I did it! After looking to see that we had a new daughter, and a kiss from my midwife, I looked around. All I could say was 'God is in the room.'
The Presence of the Divine was so tangible at that moment. I had felt the powerful force of Healing. I had been surrounded by prayers and love. My midwife, her assistant and my husband had provided me the space to do what I needed to do. We, together, had created a Holy Space for the entrance of another soul into this world. While I do realize that it was a baby that was brought into the world, I think that she wasn't the only one to be born that day.
I drove home from my Advance Cardiac Life Support Class. I had been feeling a bit uncomfortable, but wasn't due for another 2 weeks. Yet, something did seem a bit different. There was a beautiful full moon out. We live out in the country, so the stars and moon get very bright. As I went to sleep, I started to wonder if this would be the night. At about 2 am, I got the answer. My water broke while I laid in bed. I waited awhile to see if anything would happen. No real contractions, nothing. I finally got a bit nervous and woke up my husband to tell him we were going to have a baby today. We called the midwife to give her advanced notice. We then settled into waiting. I walked around our property, enjoying the full moon. It was interesting letting the moon light my way. I have never been brave enough to walk around at night with no flashlight, but this time was different. I wanted to visit the creek, and sit beside the running water. Finally, with no real contractions, I went back to bed. I realized that I needed sleep more than I needed a walk. Shortly the kids all woke up. We called a friend to take the kids away for a fun day at the lake. Steve and I sat around wondering what was going to happen.
At the onset of this pregnancy, I had made a firm decision. I had no preconceived notion of how or where I would give birth. We had planned for a home birth from the beginning, but understood the very real possibility of needing to go to the hospital. I had even verbalized to my midwife that I was going to be fine with a c-section, if I needed it. I had nothing to prove with birthing this baby. I realized that I had no real control over what was in store. I was just willing to trust my body, my midwife and this process.
I had a few contractions here and there. It was a matter of stopping what I was doing and moaning through them. Yet, I never had more that 3-4 an hour. I started getting frustrated and scared about a stalled labor. The birthing tub had been set up, I had napped. I even ate a full lunch. We spoke with the midwife all day. I was beginning to get nervous, realizing that a long labor was not a good thing. I called a Priest friend of mine. I asked her if she had any prayers for a stalled labor. Her answer startled me "What are you afraid of?" This question caught me off guard and caused me to think. I gave the standard answers of 'pain, something going wrong, a long labor'. She kept listening and I kept thinking. Finally, I was able to utter my deepest fear. I was simply afraid of the power that lay within me. I was afraid that I would have the birth that I had always dreamed of.
After I hung up with her, I had a really, really good cry. I had been holding a huge amount of stress in my body, and I needed to let it all go. I needed to prepare a space for this new soul to enter our family. After crying, I told my husband I was going to try to take a nap. Steve went to the other room to watch TV. A few short minutes later a contraction hit, then another, then another. I moaned through each of them. Soon, I heard Steve talking to the midwife on the phone telling her to come on over. After a few more contractions, I headed for the birthing pool set up in our bedroom. I soon realized that real labor had begun. With each contraction, I had to hold my husband's hand. I quickly learned to get a little ahead of the contraction and started my moaning early. It seemed to help me from fearing the intensity. I felt in total control of a totally out of control situation. Soon our midwife arrived with her assistant. Their presence was quiet and reassuring. Soon I began to push our baby out on my hands and knees while in the water. I felt her head pass out, and I reached down to feel it. I rubbed her hair while she remained in side of me. It was the most amazing feeling. There I was, in the middle of this incredibly physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding act. Yet, I was able to embrace it. I was even enjoying it. With the next contraction, she came out into the water. The midwife assistant and I fished her out of the water, and I pulled her to my chest. As I lay back, I realized that I had done it! I had delivered this baby, by myself! I did it! After looking to see that we had a new daughter, and a kiss from my midwife, I looked around. All I could say was 'God is in the room.'
The Presence of the Divine was so tangible at that moment. I had felt the powerful force of Healing. I had been surrounded by prayers and love. My midwife, her assistant and my husband had provided me the space to do what I needed to do. We, together, had created a Holy Space for the entrance of another soul into this world. While I do realize that it was a baby that was brought into the world, I think that she wasn't the only one to be born that day.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Blessed are the peacemakers...
Matthew 5: 9,10
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
So notice here, it does not say peacekeepers. I think there is a huge difference between one who makes peace, and one who keeps peace. Although, I am not exactly sure how someone might make peace. I think that Peace is actually when we rest in God's love. For in human terms, there is very little peace. I think there is primarily conflict. Yet, how do we deal with the inevitable conflict?
I think one of the most insidious ways of dealing with conflict is to avoid it at all costs. In order to do this, one must set up an appearance of peace. This forces people to become peacekeepers. At first, keeping the peace seems easy enough. It avoids the conflict at hand, and the peacekeeper gets immediate satisfaction. Yet, because this is only an appearance of peace, more and more effort goes towards appearances. I think slippery slope usually leads to someone being a 'peace monger.'
"Friedman (1996a, 1996b, 1999) had a special concern with emotional fields created by leaders that value togetherness over individuality, creativity, and/or imagination. He observed that Awhen a self-directed, imaginative, energetic, or creative member (low in the organizational hierarchy) is being consistently frustrated and sabotaged rather than encouraged and supported, 100 percent of the time it will be true that, regardless of whether the disruptors are supervisors, subordinates, or peers, the person at the very top of that institution will be a peace-monger@ (1996b, pp. 35-36), a person who believes good feelings are more important than progress, and who goes to great lengths to avoid anxiety and conflict at all costs."
(http://www.academicleadership.org/emprical_research/The_Edwin_Friedman_Model_of_Family_Systems_Thinking.shtml)
When I read this article, I was astonished. It gave me great insight into my own frustrations. I have been in several systems whose leaders were peace mongers. I now recognized that I was being sabotaged, and discouraged, for the sake of a sense of peace. It really had very little to do with my own abilities or creativity. It has very little to do with me in general.
So what did Jesus mean when he said 'Blessed are the peacemakers'? What does a peacemaker look like? I think that he is probably causing a bunch of trouble! He threatens a system's false sense of peace. He forces people to take a hard look at the reality of a situation, challenging their appearances. He doesn't settle for a false, terminal peace. He struggles for God's enduring Peace. I think that he simply makes room for God. That seems simple. Yet, in a world full of people wanting immediate ego gratification, that is harder than it looks. I think Jesus calls them Blessed because that he knows how hard this job is. In order to be a peacemaker, God must first bless you with the ability to perform this task. I suppose that making peace probably involves humility, kindness and discernment. I think that the peacemaker must be given the vision to see the greater picture, calling all of God's children into Love. All of God's children. Peace is meant for every person, not to be gained at the expense of another.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
So notice here, it does not say peacekeepers. I think there is a huge difference between one who makes peace, and one who keeps peace. Although, I am not exactly sure how someone might make peace. I think that Peace is actually when we rest in God's love. For in human terms, there is very little peace. I think there is primarily conflict. Yet, how do we deal with the inevitable conflict?
I think one of the most insidious ways of dealing with conflict is to avoid it at all costs. In order to do this, one must set up an appearance of peace. This forces people to become peacekeepers. At first, keeping the peace seems easy enough. It avoids the conflict at hand, and the peacekeeper gets immediate satisfaction. Yet, because this is only an appearance of peace, more and more effort goes towards appearances. I think slippery slope usually leads to someone being a 'peace monger.'
"Friedman (1996a, 1996b, 1999) had a special concern with emotional fields created by leaders that value togetherness over individuality, creativity, and/or imagination. He observed that Awhen a self-directed, imaginative, energetic, or creative member (low in the organizational hierarchy) is being consistently frustrated and sabotaged rather than encouraged and supported, 100 percent of the time it will be true that, regardless of whether the disruptors are supervisors, subordinates, or peers, the person at the very top of that institution will be a peace-monger@ (1996b, pp. 35-36), a person who believes good feelings are more important than progress, and who goes to great lengths to avoid anxiety and conflict at all costs."
(http://www.academicleadership.org/emprical_research/The_Edwin_Friedman_Model_of_Family_Systems_Thinking.shtml)
When I read this article, I was astonished. It gave me great insight into my own frustrations. I have been in several systems whose leaders were peace mongers. I now recognized that I was being sabotaged, and discouraged, for the sake of a sense of peace. It really had very little to do with my own abilities or creativity. It has very little to do with me in general.
So what did Jesus mean when he said 'Blessed are the peacemakers'? What does a peacemaker look like? I think that he is probably causing a bunch of trouble! He threatens a system's false sense of peace. He forces people to take a hard look at the reality of a situation, challenging their appearances. He doesn't settle for a false, terminal peace. He struggles for God's enduring Peace. I think that he simply makes room for God. That seems simple. Yet, in a world full of people wanting immediate ego gratification, that is harder than it looks. I think Jesus calls them Blessed because that he knows how hard this job is. In order to be a peacemaker, God must first bless you with the ability to perform this task. I suppose that making peace probably involves humility, kindness and discernment. I think that the peacemaker must be given the vision to see the greater picture, calling all of God's children into Love. All of God's children. Peace is meant for every person, not to be gained at the expense of another.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Repentance
A definition of Repentance found in the Episcopal Watchman, volume 2. Hartford, June 28, 1828.
"The word Repentance, in the original, signifies "a change or alteration of the mind, so as to influence one's subsequent conduct and behaviour for the better." It implies a conversion from sin to God; "not a single act or change, but a lasting, durable state of new life." "
Another definition:
1 : to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one's life
2 a : to feel regret or contrition b : to change one's mind
So, if one is Repentant, they take a very big turn in their life. It is not just 'I'm sorry'. It is action which, with God's help, can change one's life. I think that, perhaps, it can change the lives of all involved.
I sat explaining my recent experiences at church to a trusted friend. I, honestly, was afraid that she would judge me for going back to the same church. Instead, she seemed proud of me in explaining that I had repented when I left. It has taken me several weeks to start to understand this. I am beginning to realize that I might have created a 'lasting durable state of a new life'.
Repentance is harder than I ever could have imagined. I have spent a great deal of time and energy understanding my part in the issues at my church. I have also tried to express my regret and accountability. I worked very hard to try to show that I changed, and learned from my mistakes. Unfortunately, some people are not able to listen. Some people don't want to acknowledge this kind of growth in other people, because it threatens their perception of things. That is where my frustration reached the point of no return, and I left.
Fortunately, some people opened their eyes. Fortunately, some people kept after me. Fortunately, some people would not let me hide myself in this frustration. Fortunately, some people loved me enough for me to be able to see that love. A single act by a man at our church changed my life forever. He sat with me, imploring us to return to church. He understood our pain and frustration. He cried with me. Cried. He helped me see that we have a part to play in the healing of our church. He led our family back home. He joined us in an act of Repentance for all of the hurt at our church.
I have a new lease on life right now. I have found God incarnate in the words and actions of others at our church. I have experienced that Healing force of Repentance in a way I never thought possible. I never, ever, expected the act of walking away would become an act of Repentance. An act that helped turn me towards God and away from sin.
This is a crazy journey I am on right now. I don't get to understand all of it. I just keep showing up and trying to trust God to find me. For now, I will allow myself a moment of satisfaction. I get a glimpse of knowing that, every once in a while, I might be gaining an understanding of who I am in relationship to God. Repentance. Who would have thought it?
"The word Repentance, in the original, signifies "a change or alteration of the mind, so as to influence one's subsequent conduct and behaviour for the better." It implies a conversion from sin to God; "not a single act or change, but a lasting, durable state of new life." "
Another definition:
1 : to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one's life
2 a : to feel regret or contrition b : to change one's mind
So, if one is Repentant, they take a very big turn in their life. It is not just 'I'm sorry'. It is action which, with God's help, can change one's life. I think that, perhaps, it can change the lives of all involved.
I sat explaining my recent experiences at church to a trusted friend. I, honestly, was afraid that she would judge me for going back to the same church. Instead, she seemed proud of me in explaining that I had repented when I left. It has taken me several weeks to start to understand this. I am beginning to realize that I might have created a 'lasting durable state of a new life'.
Repentance is harder than I ever could have imagined. I have spent a great deal of time and energy understanding my part in the issues at my church. I have also tried to express my regret and accountability. I worked very hard to try to show that I changed, and learned from my mistakes. Unfortunately, some people are not able to listen. Some people don't want to acknowledge this kind of growth in other people, because it threatens their perception of things. That is where my frustration reached the point of no return, and I left.
Fortunately, some people opened their eyes. Fortunately, some people kept after me. Fortunately, some people would not let me hide myself in this frustration. Fortunately, some people loved me enough for me to be able to see that love. A single act by a man at our church changed my life forever. He sat with me, imploring us to return to church. He understood our pain and frustration. He cried with me. Cried. He helped me see that we have a part to play in the healing of our church. He led our family back home. He joined us in an act of Repentance for all of the hurt at our church.
I have a new lease on life right now. I have found God incarnate in the words and actions of others at our church. I have experienced that Healing force of Repentance in a way I never thought possible. I never, ever, expected the act of walking away would become an act of Repentance. An act that helped turn me towards God and away from sin.
This is a crazy journey I am on right now. I don't get to understand all of it. I just keep showing up and trying to trust God to find me. For now, I will allow myself a moment of satisfaction. I get a glimpse of knowing that, every once in a while, I might be gaining an understanding of who I am in relationship to God. Repentance. Who would have thought it?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Watch your tone!
I had an earlier post about "You Hypocrites!" I had started the post with the pretext that Jesus is yelling to those in authority. I sat with a Spiritual Director last weekend and she brought up this exact story. Although, her voice had a very different tone. Her tone was one of a loving Jesus beseeching people to see how they had strayed. Her voice was lowered, full of emotion and without judgement. She said that since Jesus embodied Love, he would have said everything in a loving matter. He needed to be able to be heard in Love.
I think this is one of my personal battles. I tend to get so animated, so passionate, so whatever, that people think that I am angry and judgemental. Instead of being heard in love, I make people defensive. Ugh! I guess I get to take, yet another, hard look at myself. No wonder I feel like one of the most misunderstood people on the face of the earth.
So, I guess Jesus must have mastered the ability to convey Love not only in his words, but in his tone. He was able to do this while challenging people to live fully into God's Love. He did it with simple sermons, simple parables and simple wisdom. He did it in a way that transformed those around him. He did it in a way that spread Love.
The Spiritual Director I saw last weekend convicted me on a couple of things. She conveyed her observations in such a loving manner, I heard it in love. She set the example that was set by Christ. I pray that I learn how to follow this example with my children, family and friends. I pray that I find the patience and words to convey not only my love to them, but also God's love.
I think this is one of my personal battles. I tend to get so animated, so passionate, so whatever, that people think that I am angry and judgemental. Instead of being heard in love, I make people defensive. Ugh! I guess I get to take, yet another, hard look at myself. No wonder I feel like one of the most misunderstood people on the face of the earth.
So, I guess Jesus must have mastered the ability to convey Love not only in his words, but in his tone. He was able to do this while challenging people to live fully into God's Love. He did it with simple sermons, simple parables and simple wisdom. He did it in a way that transformed those around him. He did it in a way that spread Love.
The Spiritual Director I saw last weekend convicted me on a couple of things. She conveyed her observations in such a loving manner, I heard it in love. She set the example that was set by Christ. I pray that I learn how to follow this example with my children, family and friends. I pray that I find the patience and words to convey not only my love to them, but also God's love.
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Lost Sheep
Matthew 15: 3-7
"So he told them this parable: What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and with his neighbors saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost."
There are many times in my life I have felt like the lost sheep. Right now is one of them. I had resigned myself to wandering about, trying to find another flock. I did not expect anyone to come after me. I recognize this as just one more sign of false leadership in our church. Yet, somehow my expectations were proved to be false. I have had several of the laity to reach out to us and ask us to come back. I have had friends make efforts to stay in touch. I am beginning to realize that my perception of who the leaders are is wrong. Authentic leaders do go after the one which is lost.
"Scripture does not just describe false leadership; it also highlights what true leadership is all about. Earlier, in the Jeremiah 23 passage, we read of God's condemnation of false shepherds in verses 1 and 2. If we go on to read verse 4, it explains what good shepards are supposed to do: "'I will place shepards over them who will tend them, and they will no longer be afraid or terrified, nor will any be missing,' declares the Lord." True shepherds care for their flocks. They keep them safe and secure. They go after any who stray." p. 142 Healing the Scars of Emotional Abuse
This makes perfect sense to me! Any time I have felt utterly lost, someone, somewhere found me! It just wasn't necessarily who I had expected. Sometimes, I think it was simply God who found me. Since I was all by myself, it gave us a little one on one time. Right now, I feel a little bit like I am on the shoulders of the Great Shepard. God seems to be rejoicing with me. Me?!?
Tomorrow, we will return home to our church. We return with the confidence that comes with being wanted and welcome. Our eyes remain wide open to the burden of trying to move with this parish in a healthy direction. Yet, I remain hopeful. Hopeful that the nudge I feel, impelling me towards our home church, is for good.
"So he told them this parable: What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and with his neighbors saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost."
There are many times in my life I have felt like the lost sheep. Right now is one of them. I had resigned myself to wandering about, trying to find another flock. I did not expect anyone to come after me. I recognize this as just one more sign of false leadership in our church. Yet, somehow my expectations were proved to be false. I have had several of the laity to reach out to us and ask us to come back. I have had friends make efforts to stay in touch. I am beginning to realize that my perception of who the leaders are is wrong. Authentic leaders do go after the one which is lost.
"Scripture does not just describe false leadership; it also highlights what true leadership is all about. Earlier, in the Jeremiah 23 passage, we read of God's condemnation of false shepherds in verses 1 and 2. If we go on to read verse 4, it explains what good shepards are supposed to do: "'I will place shepards over them who will tend them, and they will no longer be afraid or terrified, nor will any be missing,' declares the Lord." True shepherds care for their flocks. They keep them safe and secure. They go after any who stray." p. 142 Healing the Scars of Emotional Abuse
This makes perfect sense to me! Any time I have felt utterly lost, someone, somewhere found me! It just wasn't necessarily who I had expected. Sometimes, I think it was simply God who found me. Since I was all by myself, it gave us a little one on one time. Right now, I feel a little bit like I am on the shoulders of the Great Shepard. God seems to be rejoicing with me. Me?!?
Tomorrow, we will return home to our church. We return with the confidence that comes with being wanted and welcome. Our eyes remain wide open to the burden of trying to move with this parish in a healthy direction. Yet, I remain hopeful. Hopeful that the nudge I feel, impelling me towards our home church, is for good.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Food
This is something that I wrote last summer:
Sometimes, it is the simple acts of giving that are the biggest agents of change. I was at work one day, simply doing what I am paid to do. I was trying to discharge a homeless man from the Emergency Department. My tasks as a nurse were done. My tasks as a Christian were not. I felt a sense of duty to secure a cab ride for this man. I wanted to feed him. Angry at the delay, he started to yell at me, and call me names. I did not react to his lashing out, because I realized that he was wounded and scared. Yet, he was starting to disturb the other patients and bother the doctor. So, I finally said very firmly to him, “Sit down and be quiet. You are not leaving here until I feed you!”. What happened next changed me in many ways. He sat down on the end of the stretcher, buried his head in his hands and began to sob. He managed to ask me a question. His voice was raw and filled with hurt. “Why do you want to help me?” It was the question that had lived deep inside of me for many years. It was the same question that I had not had the courage to ask those around me. As I looked at his tears falling at our feet, I took a deep breath. The answer washed over me in a flood of my own emotions. “Simply because you are human. Every human deserves help and love.”
I found a sandwich in the refrigerator and brought it to his room. He began to eat, slowly. He seemed humbled and grateful for a moment of dignity. In those few short moments, I realized the immense privilege it had been for me to feed this man. I had a glimpse at what Christ meant when he said when you feed them, you also feed Me.
At church the next Sunday, my day was filled with my own tears. I managed to tell someone that I was having a hard time accepting the fact that she loved me. I confessed my own sins of lashing out and deflecting the love given to me by others. I realized that I had been asking the wrong question. I had been asking “Why would you hurt me?” I had been stuck in my wounds, waiting to be hurt. In that, I had forgotten the most important part of Love. It is in the fullness of the receiving that God is most present. This man showed me where I had failed. God’s love is ever present, all reaching and bigger than we could ever imagine. We don’t earn it, or have the ability to return it. It simply is there for the receiving. Every single human on the face of the earth deserves to know God’s love. Yet, we can only see it through the other humans around us. It takes courage, trust and humility to see it. Sometimes we get hurt. Sometimes others lash out at us. Sometimes we suffer deep betrayals. Yet, even in the deepest of wounds, God can reach us. Sometimes, we just need have someone tell us “Sit down and let me feed you.”
Sometimes, it is the simple acts of giving that are the biggest agents of change. I was at work one day, simply doing what I am paid to do. I was trying to discharge a homeless man from the Emergency Department. My tasks as a nurse were done. My tasks as a Christian were not. I felt a sense of duty to secure a cab ride for this man. I wanted to feed him. Angry at the delay, he started to yell at me, and call me names. I did not react to his lashing out, because I realized that he was wounded and scared. Yet, he was starting to disturb the other patients and bother the doctor. So, I finally said very firmly to him, “Sit down and be quiet. You are not leaving here until I feed you!”. What happened next changed me in many ways. He sat down on the end of the stretcher, buried his head in his hands and began to sob. He managed to ask me a question. His voice was raw and filled with hurt. “Why do you want to help me?” It was the question that had lived deep inside of me for many years. It was the same question that I had not had the courage to ask those around me. As I looked at his tears falling at our feet, I took a deep breath. The answer washed over me in a flood of my own emotions. “Simply because you are human. Every human deserves help and love.”
I found a sandwich in the refrigerator and brought it to his room. He began to eat, slowly. He seemed humbled and grateful for a moment of dignity. In those few short moments, I realized the immense privilege it had been for me to feed this man. I had a glimpse at what Christ meant when he said when you feed them, you also feed Me.
At church the next Sunday, my day was filled with my own tears. I managed to tell someone that I was having a hard time accepting the fact that she loved me. I confessed my own sins of lashing out and deflecting the love given to me by others. I realized that I had been asking the wrong question. I had been asking “Why would you hurt me?” I had been stuck in my wounds, waiting to be hurt. In that, I had forgotten the most important part of Love. It is in the fullness of the receiving that God is most present. This man showed me where I had failed. God’s love is ever present, all reaching and bigger than we could ever imagine. We don’t earn it, or have the ability to return it. It simply is there for the receiving. Every single human on the face of the earth deserves to know God’s love. Yet, we can only see it through the other humans around us. It takes courage, trust and humility to see it. Sometimes we get hurt. Sometimes others lash out at us. Sometimes we suffer deep betrayals. Yet, even in the deepest of wounds, God can reach us. Sometimes, we just need have someone tell us “Sit down and let me feed you.”
Monday, April 26, 2010
Looking at the edge of the water
Matthew 14: 28-31
And Peter answered him, "Lord if it is you, bid me come to you on the water." He said "Come." So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus; but when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me." Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "O man of little faith, why did you doubt?"
After publishing my last post, I realized that it was time for me to call my spiritual mother. I also realized that I was getting a bit snotty with my comments about wanting others to 'practice what they preach.' So when I got her on the phone, I started telling her about missing her and missing my church. Next thing you know, she started to challenge me. Yep, you guessed it, she told me something that I didn't want to hear. She talked to me about this story about Peter.
"You are too busy looking at the edge of the water!" She said that once Peter took his eyes off of Jesus he began to get scared and started to drown. She told me that I need to quit worrying about what everyone else is doing and concentrate on Jesus.
Of course, she is right. I keep getting distracted from my own walk with Jesus. I am amazed at how this story fits so directly into my life right now. I am amazed at this woman's ability to draw me into this one, and others.
Every single day, I make mistakes. Some of them I learn from. Many of them I am doomed to repeat. I am blessed to have people in my life who find ways to reach me when I get caught up in myself. Because of them, I get to grow. I will grow for the rest of my life. When we stop growing, we start dying. Or in Peter's case, we start drowning.
And Peter answered him, "Lord if it is you, bid me come to you on the water." He said "Come." So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus; but when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me." Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "O man of little faith, why did you doubt?"
After publishing my last post, I realized that it was time for me to call my spiritual mother. I also realized that I was getting a bit snotty with my comments about wanting others to 'practice what they preach.' So when I got her on the phone, I started telling her about missing her and missing my church. Next thing you know, she started to challenge me. Yep, you guessed it, she told me something that I didn't want to hear. She talked to me about this story about Peter.
"You are too busy looking at the edge of the water!" She said that once Peter took his eyes off of Jesus he began to get scared and started to drown. She told me that I need to quit worrying about what everyone else is doing and concentrate on Jesus.
Of course, she is right. I keep getting distracted from my own walk with Jesus. I am amazed at how this story fits so directly into my life right now. I am amazed at this woman's ability to draw me into this one, and others.
Every single day, I make mistakes. Some of them I learn from. Many of them I am doomed to repeat. I am blessed to have people in my life who find ways to reach me when I get caught up in myself. Because of them, I get to grow. I will grow for the rest of my life. When we stop growing, we start dying. Or in Peter's case, we start drowning.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Witness
Last night, I decided at the last minute to attend the Holocaust Memorial service in Columbia. As I was driving there, my social anxieties started to surface. I don't like going to an event by myself. I had never attended a service at this Synagogue. As my mind started to wander, I started thinking about my maternal grandfather. A couple of years ago, I found out that he was involved in the liberation of Buchenwald. Since he did not speak much about it, I pieced together stories from my mother, and information off of the Internet. I have no details, but it is clear that he was involved. I also know that in the late 1950's, he took my mother and grandmother to visit Dachau. He took his family so that they could see in person what had happened there. This made a very big impression on my teenage mother. I have heard hers, and my grandmother's story of this trip many times.
My grandfather died before I was born. As I understand things, he suffered with alcoholism and many of the ills associated with it. I think it would be easy to say that he led a bit of a tortured life, and his family suffered with him. I never thought much about all of this until last night. At the memorial service, main speaker was a man who served in the American army and liberated one of the camps. He only spoke for about 15 minutes, but his words carried great power. He managed to give a strong sense of what he found without going into much detail. At the end of his talk, he tried to convey a story about one of his soldiers. After 65 years, and numerous speeches, this man choked back tears as he tried to tell his story. I sat in stunned silence as I recognized the immense burden this man carries. He carries the burden of being a first hand witness to the unimaginable. He has carried his burden well, but obviously there is a price.
I now look at my grandfather with different eyes. I had a glimpse at the burden he must have carried. I can only imagine how hard it was for him to reconcile his experiences. My grandfather's trip to Dachau with his family was probably his best attempt at providing witness. He could not talk much about it, but he made sure that his daughter saw with her own two eyes.
So, a chance encounter at a service helps put so many things into perspective for me. I wish that I could go back and speak to my grandfather. I have to honor the price he paid for serving in a war. I have to acknowledge the price he paid for being a witness.
My grandfather died before I was born. As I understand things, he suffered with alcoholism and many of the ills associated with it. I think it would be easy to say that he led a bit of a tortured life, and his family suffered with him. I never thought much about all of this until last night. At the memorial service, main speaker was a man who served in the American army and liberated one of the camps. He only spoke for about 15 minutes, but his words carried great power. He managed to give a strong sense of what he found without going into much detail. At the end of his talk, he tried to convey a story about one of his soldiers. After 65 years, and numerous speeches, this man choked back tears as he tried to tell his story. I sat in stunned silence as I recognized the immense burden this man carries. He carries the burden of being a first hand witness to the unimaginable. He has carried his burden well, but obviously there is a price.
I now look at my grandfather with different eyes. I had a glimpse at the burden he must have carried. I can only imagine how hard it was for him to reconcile his experiences. My grandfather's trip to Dachau with his family was probably his best attempt at providing witness. He could not talk much about it, but he made sure that his daughter saw with her own two eyes.
So, a chance encounter at a service helps put so many things into perspective for me. I wish that I could go back and speak to my grandfather. I have to honor the price he paid for serving in a war. I have to acknowledge the price he paid for being a witness.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Good Friday
It is Good Friday. It is the day that we remember the Crucifixion. I have always, even as a child, taken this day very seriously. I was raised Lutheran, and our church didn't use any sort of Liturgy for this day. They usually offered silent communion. It was probably my favorite service of the year. It was a solemn, silent, personal passive experience. It was a way for me to try to understand what happened so long ago.
When we joined the Episcopal church several years ago, I was able to worship this day in an entirely different manner. I wept as we walked the stations of the cross. I watched with awe as our Priest reverenced the cross during that first service. At that moment, I vowed to remain true to my Christian heritage. The next year, I would reverence a cross at the convent. This was an act. I was finding a way to participate in church, not just watch.
This Good Friday is different for me. I am not a participant in any corporate worships services. Well, at least I am a passive participant. Maybe that isn't it either. I've never been a particularly passive person. In fact, I think there in lies my troubles at my current church.
I am going to the Cathedral for the Good Friday Liturgy today. It will go back to the solemn, silent, personal way of trying to understand. Although, this time, it will be a little bit different. I will sit and try to understand what happened so long ago in a context of what is happening today. I understand, now, that there is nothing passive about worship. We all participate. It is with that awareness that I approach this weekend's services.
I am trying to embrace this year's Good Friday and Easter's celebrations. I am worshipping among strangers. I am worshipping without a strong sense of connection to my home church and the brothers and sisters who are there. I am beginning the process of shedding the layers of frustration, anger and shame. I seem to be working my way back to the cross.
When we joined the Episcopal church several years ago, I was able to worship this day in an entirely different manner. I wept as we walked the stations of the cross. I watched with awe as our Priest reverenced the cross during that first service. At that moment, I vowed to remain true to my Christian heritage. The next year, I would reverence a cross at the convent. This was an act. I was finding a way to participate in church, not just watch.
This Good Friday is different for me. I am not a participant in any corporate worships services. Well, at least I am a passive participant. Maybe that isn't it either. I've never been a particularly passive person. In fact, I think there in lies my troubles at my current church.
I am going to the Cathedral for the Good Friday Liturgy today. It will go back to the solemn, silent, personal way of trying to understand. Although, this time, it will be a little bit different. I will sit and try to understand what happened so long ago in a context of what is happening today. I understand, now, that there is nothing passive about worship. We all participate. It is with that awareness that I approach this weekend's services.
I am trying to embrace this year's Good Friday and Easter's celebrations. I am worshipping among strangers. I am worshipping without a strong sense of connection to my home church and the brothers and sisters who are there. I am beginning the process of shedding the layers of frustration, anger and shame. I seem to be working my way back to the cross.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Please send someone else!!
Exodus 4:10-13
10 But Moses said to the LORD, "O my Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor even now that you have spoken to your servant; but I am slow of speech and slow of tongue."
11 Then the LORD said to him, "Who gives speech to mortals? Who makes them mute or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD?
12 Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak."
13 But he said, "O my Lord, please send someone else."
I sat with my spiritual director struggling with this nagging question: Could God possibly be calling me? Could God possibly call me to do things? She talked to me about this particular story. I wonder how Moses must have felt when he started to hear God speak. Am I crazy? Why me? Let someone else do it. I don't like this. What will this mean?
That conversation was several years ago. Many, many things have happened with me since then. I have become much more aware of how God can use people, even me. My work as a nurse has become very rewarding. I've been blessed to have many conversations with the pastoral staff and other nurses about our call to serve others. I've had ministries within my church that felt very rewarding at times. At times, I am engulfed in the blessings of motherhood and family.
Yet, somehow, I cannot shake this feeling of "Oh my Lord, please send someone else.". It is with fear that I approach many of my decisions right now. I have a growing sense of peace, knowing that I am probably making the right decisions. I am just left wondering where it will all end up. I guess that is the hard part. I don't get to know. I just get to keep going forward, hoping, praying, trusting.
10 But Moses said to the LORD, "O my Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor even now that you have spoken to your servant; but I am slow of speech and slow of tongue."
11 Then the LORD said to him, "Who gives speech to mortals? Who makes them mute or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD?
12 Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak."
13 But he said, "O my Lord, please send someone else."
I sat with my spiritual director struggling with this nagging question: Could God possibly be calling me? Could God possibly call me to do things? She talked to me about this particular story. I wonder how Moses must have felt when he started to hear God speak. Am I crazy? Why me? Let someone else do it. I don't like this. What will this mean?
That conversation was several years ago. Many, many things have happened with me since then. I have become much more aware of how God can use people, even me. My work as a nurse has become very rewarding. I've been blessed to have many conversations with the pastoral staff and other nurses about our call to serve others. I've had ministries within my church that felt very rewarding at times. At times, I am engulfed in the blessings of motherhood and family.
Yet, somehow, I cannot shake this feeling of "Oh my Lord, please send someone else.". It is with fear that I approach many of my decisions right now. I have a growing sense of peace, knowing that I am probably making the right decisions. I am just left wondering where it will all end up. I guess that is the hard part. I don't get to know. I just get to keep going forward, hoping, praying, trusting.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Talking about it
I've decided there are really 2 kinds of people in this world. There are those who are talking about doing something. Then there are those who are doing something. I've spent much of my life talking about all of the things that I want to do. I did this all through college, into my young adulthood. I was always saying 'One day...., I want.....'. Somewhere around 30, I stopped doing that as a habit. I think that it might have all started with getting a tattoo.
For my 30th birthday, I decided to get a tattoo. I had wanted one for years. I had 2 children. After my oldest had been born, I had started getting into the habit of trying new things. I took pottery lessons, guitar lessons. With my second child, we opted for a home birth. We had continued our parenting course going against the cultural norm. Why not get a tattoo?
When I went to the tattoo parlor, I had no idea what I wanted. I was just trying not to chicken out. Walking around, I saw a picture of a sun. BOOM! There it was. I didn't need to fret anymore. I laid down on my stomach and got a tattoo on my hip. There! I had followed through with a 'one day...'.
A few months later, I started nursing school. I plodded through the 2 years with a bunch of help from family and friends. I would set my alarm for 3:30 in the morning to get up and do my work for the next day. I worked my rear end off, *doing* what I wanted to do. I managed to accomplish something that would send me into a very rewarding career.
A few years later, my family and I managed to buy a piece of property to try our hand at country living. We had spent years 'talking' about moving to the country and building a house. All of a sudden we were 'doing' it. I am now sitting in our newly built house, looking out over what will be our new garden and the goats in their pen. Wow! Who would have ever thought that we would be here?
A couple of years ago, several people at our church decided that we should build a labyrinth. We went to great efforts to get a plan, present it to the vestry, get a committee, pick a spot, get it approved, clear a spot, talk about this, talk about that. Two years later, all we accomplished was cutting down tree and lots of talking. This week, I took some left over bricks and started building a labyrinth in my yard. I'm a doer. I don't like sitting and talking so much any more. Let's get down to business, roll up our sleeves and get dirty.
We've got to stop fearing action. People want to sit and 'talk' because it is safe. There is nothing permanent in that. When you take action, it is real. You can't go back. You've started. So many people get paralyzed in their fears, and they cannot find a way to move forward. It takes a trusting, discerning, courageous heart to take chances in this life. I'm just to a place where I would much, much rather say "I did" instead of "I wanted to."
For my 30th birthday, I decided to get a tattoo. I had wanted one for years. I had 2 children. After my oldest had been born, I had started getting into the habit of trying new things. I took pottery lessons, guitar lessons. With my second child, we opted for a home birth. We had continued our parenting course going against the cultural norm. Why not get a tattoo?
When I went to the tattoo parlor, I had no idea what I wanted. I was just trying not to chicken out. Walking around, I saw a picture of a sun. BOOM! There it was. I didn't need to fret anymore. I laid down on my stomach and got a tattoo on my hip. There! I had followed through with a 'one day...'.
A few months later, I started nursing school. I plodded through the 2 years with a bunch of help from family and friends. I would set my alarm for 3:30 in the morning to get up and do my work for the next day. I worked my rear end off, *doing* what I wanted to do. I managed to accomplish something that would send me into a very rewarding career.
A few years later, my family and I managed to buy a piece of property to try our hand at country living. We had spent years 'talking' about moving to the country and building a house. All of a sudden we were 'doing' it. I am now sitting in our newly built house, looking out over what will be our new garden and the goats in their pen. Wow! Who would have ever thought that we would be here?
A couple of years ago, several people at our church decided that we should build a labyrinth. We went to great efforts to get a plan, present it to the vestry, get a committee, pick a spot, get it approved, clear a spot, talk about this, talk about that. Two years later, all we accomplished was cutting down tree and lots of talking. This week, I took some left over bricks and started building a labyrinth in my yard. I'm a doer. I don't like sitting and talking so much any more. Let's get down to business, roll up our sleeves and get dirty.
We've got to stop fearing action. People want to sit and 'talk' because it is safe. There is nothing permanent in that. When you take action, it is real. You can't go back. You've started. So many people get paralyzed in their fears, and they cannot find a way to move forward. It takes a trusting, discerning, courageous heart to take chances in this life. I'm just to a place where I would much, much rather say "I did" instead of "I wanted to."
Monday, March 1, 2010
Compensation
I work in the Emergency Department as a Registered Nurse. I get paid a decent hourly wage to care for patients, help manage the flow of patients and carry out the mission of our hospital. We are Catholic based, so we are a faithful community. That expresses itself in many different ways. In today's time, you have to run hospitals like a business and do the best you can in serving the greater good.
At the Christmas party this year, I decided to go talk to our VP who is a life-professed Nun. Fortified with a few glasses of wine, I walked up and started talking. I needed to tell this woman that she cannot pay me for what I do in my job. A part of me was ready to claim my role as a nurse as being my vocation. I recognized the part of me that does not want, nor need compensation for many of the tasks I perform. It was an empowering moment for me just to say the words out loud. Her response was the icing on the cake. She grabbed my hands and said "Yes!". She went on to say that it is her belief that we are 'called' to service at this institution. I told her that I agree and I remember her saying that during my orientation. I thanked her for that, and giving me permission to claim my own vocation.
I am beginning to recognize the maturity needed to go about my life without compensation. My daughter turns 13 this week. After her birth, I was inundated with all of the cultural expectations of parenthood. In the midst of all of that, I managed to find my own Mothering voice. I managed to seek the greater purpose of parenting this gift from God. Trust me, there was no compensation for me as I breastfed, slept with and nurtured this baby. There is no compensation for emptying yourself in a humble attempt to be present with your child. Yet, somehow, I am starting to see a bit of the fruit from the seeds planted so long ago.
It is the same thing with me as a nurse. A couple of weeks ago, I had a teenage patient who was distraught after I told her that she was seven months pregnant. I gave a kind, but stern, lecture about how her decisions are affecting the rest of her life. As she sat like a small child, crying, I placed my hand on her shoulder. I told her that I would take a piece of her home with me. I told her that I would pray for her all weekend and remember her as she struggles through this time in her life. That was hard for me to do. It cost me to do this. There is no compensation for taking this extra time and care with her. Nor should there be. There is no way that I can compensate God for all that has been given to me. It is not possible. I have been blessed far more that any human can possibly deserve. Sometimes, these Blessings overflow onto someone else, and I get the privilege of watching.
At the Christmas party this year, I decided to go talk to our VP who is a life-professed Nun. Fortified with a few glasses of wine, I walked up and started talking. I needed to tell this woman that she cannot pay me for what I do in my job. A part of me was ready to claim my role as a nurse as being my vocation. I recognized the part of me that does not want, nor need compensation for many of the tasks I perform. It was an empowering moment for me just to say the words out loud. Her response was the icing on the cake. She grabbed my hands and said "Yes!". She went on to say that it is her belief that we are 'called' to service at this institution. I told her that I agree and I remember her saying that during my orientation. I thanked her for that, and giving me permission to claim my own vocation.
I am beginning to recognize the maturity needed to go about my life without compensation. My daughter turns 13 this week. After her birth, I was inundated with all of the cultural expectations of parenthood. In the midst of all of that, I managed to find my own Mothering voice. I managed to seek the greater purpose of parenting this gift from God. Trust me, there was no compensation for me as I breastfed, slept with and nurtured this baby. There is no compensation for emptying yourself in a humble attempt to be present with your child. Yet, somehow, I am starting to see a bit of the fruit from the seeds planted so long ago.
It is the same thing with me as a nurse. A couple of weeks ago, I had a teenage patient who was distraught after I told her that she was seven months pregnant. I gave a kind, but stern, lecture about how her decisions are affecting the rest of her life. As she sat like a small child, crying, I placed my hand on her shoulder. I told her that I would take a piece of her home with me. I told her that I would pray for her all weekend and remember her as she struggles through this time in her life. That was hard for me to do. It cost me to do this. There is no compensation for taking this extra time and care with her. Nor should there be. There is no way that I can compensate God for all that has been given to me. It is not possible. I have been blessed far more that any human can possibly deserve. Sometimes, these Blessings overflow onto someone else, and I get the privilege of watching.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Getting Started
One of the first lines of the movie Sounder goes something like this: "You can take just about anything away from or give anything to a child, but a child has to tell his own story." I'll need to go rent the movie now so that I can get the exact quote. When I heard it, I realized that I have my own unique story. It is all mine and no one elses. I think that it is time that I start telling it. I have done too much work to be able to understand it. So I guess I am going to give blogging a try. I've journaled for many years, but don't get the satisfaction I would like out of it. Words are empty until they are shared.
My oldest child turns 13 years old this week. Today, while I visited the Episcopal Convent in Augusta Ga, I bought her an Anglican Rosary. It is the 'earth rosary', intended to be used in prayer for our earth. I hope that she likes it, I am not sure that many 13 year olds would appreciate it. However, I don't have a typical child. On her own, she decided to read the Old Testament as a Lenten project. She totes a bible around school, because this is where she does much of her reading. Somehow, my husband and I have invited a Spirituality into our family. One that I don't quite understand. I just know that it is real.
I had a great time in Spiritual Direction with a Sister at the Convent. My brain started hurting as I tried to absorb all that she had to say. I have realized that much of what I need in my life right now is rest. I am giving myself permission to remain fallow for Lent. I will still work on projects at work and church. However, I won't seek any more Spiritual Direction. I will purpose my day for re-creation. I need to have fun with my partner in life, my kids and my friends. I might even read a trashy romance novel! Heck, I might even start a blog. : )
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