Today, I am saying goodbye to the people that I have worked with for the past 16 months. It has brought up a myriad of emotions. I wasn't expecting that at all.
I've been given a gift of a 'life lesson' as my Spiritual Director has told me. In the past, I have managed to leave places without every really saying good bye. I sit in wonder why at age 40, I've finally found out how to do this. It has always seemed to be much easier when there were hard feelings associated with leaving a place. Somehow, this justifies the departure. Simply seeing a different place to go is very different for me.
I think of all the times people have left my life without a good bye. Friends have died, moved away and moved on. I doubt I handled those well.
I wonder how I will handle it in the future, after having learned this life lesson.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Laughter
In contrast to my last post, I feel like writing about the absurdity of my morning. I called in sick today because my youngest is still battling some sort of fever/virus. I would bet we've had the flu. It is going around like crazy this year.
Our silly morning started last night. My 7 year old had put on a pair of shorts. After they fell down, he realized that they were really his brother's. Instead of changing, he wore them to bed last night. Getting him to change this morning was a battle with lots of giggling. His little sister changed clothes 3 times this morning. At first, I thought she was asking for an 'army' shirt. It really was a 'long sleeve' shirt, but that was too warm. She put on cowboy boots, but didn't like the way the socks fit. She changed shoes. I was putting lotion on my 11 year old's face and he started humming. It sounded like a Justin Beaver (as he is known in our house) tune.
Driving 4 kids to school is always an adventure. My eldest took her electric guitar to school today, lugging around an amp and a Christmas present. She showed me that she painted her finger nails to match her guitar. Only a teenager would think of that....
My second grader always gets unbuckled in the line so that he can give me his cheek for a kiss. His favorite teacher opened the door this morning, and he got a hug. The middle schooler always gets a yell from his little sister saying 'Have a good day!'.
My life seems overflowing with simple joys. We started off this day with a fire started by my husband. It is his way of helping us get going on a cold morning. We do a pretty good job working as a team around here. You have to when you live in a zoo.
Last year, I took my oldest boy to the synagogue for the Yom Hashoa service. It is where they remember the Holocaust. The speaker was a survivor who had taken part in the defiant Requiem. For most of her speech, she made us laugh. I was struck by this little woman's courage and wisdom. For me, it was one of those 'changing moments' in my life. If she can laugh, so can I. And I will, every single day.
Our silly morning started last night. My 7 year old had put on a pair of shorts. After they fell down, he realized that they were really his brother's. Instead of changing, he wore them to bed last night. Getting him to change this morning was a battle with lots of giggling. His little sister changed clothes 3 times this morning. At first, I thought she was asking for an 'army' shirt. It really was a 'long sleeve' shirt, but that was too warm. She put on cowboy boots, but didn't like the way the socks fit. She changed shoes. I was putting lotion on my 11 year old's face and he started humming. It sounded like a Justin Beaver (as he is known in our house) tune.
Driving 4 kids to school is always an adventure. My eldest took her electric guitar to school today, lugging around an amp and a Christmas present. She showed me that she painted her finger nails to match her guitar. Only a teenager would think of that....
My second grader always gets unbuckled in the line so that he can give me his cheek for a kiss. His favorite teacher opened the door this morning, and he got a hug. The middle schooler always gets a yell from his little sister saying 'Have a good day!'.
My life seems overflowing with simple joys. We started off this day with a fire started by my husband. It is his way of helping us get going on a cold morning. We do a pretty good job working as a team around here. You have to when you live in a zoo.
Last year, I took my oldest boy to the synagogue for the Yom Hashoa service. It is where they remember the Holocaust. The speaker was a survivor who had taken part in the defiant Requiem. For most of her speech, she made us laugh. I was struck by this little woman's courage and wisdom. For me, it was one of those 'changing moments' in my life. If she can laugh, so can I. And I will, every single day.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Images
There is a story I have been wanting to tell since I started this blog. I've not had the courage, or desire to tell it before now. I offer this in honor of all first responders who have to live with the images they have seen.
I was a paramedic, with only one child at the time. We were called to be the back up unit on a house fire. This is not unusual, and usually it is just a precaution. I had taken a class in Critical Incident Stress and already learned a great deal about PTSD. Yet, this was the first time I responded to a scene like this as a mother.
The paramedic who had trained me was possibly one of the best, calmest medics I've ever run calls with. He was the first unit on the scene of a house fire. He called for backup right away, and we were that unit. On the way to the call, he started calling out "signal 9". This is the signal for a death. We picked up our speed a bit and heard another "signal 9". This hit me in the pit of my stomach, I looked at the paramedic driving, another "signal 9". All of these class I had been through started running through my head. This was going to be one of those 'critical incidents' we had talked about. He called another "signal 9" as we pulled up to the scene. He and his partner then took off with the one survivor of a house fire that killed 4 children. There were 4 little covered bodies laying on the grass in front of a house. This is not the image that has stuck with me all these years. What I see in my mind is a firefighter. He is sitting on the roof of a house completely silent, numb. He didn't know what else to do.
We ended up at the hospital later that evening and one of the seasoned attending doctors came up to me. He had genuine concern on his face. "How are you doing?" I answered the way most first responders would respond "I'm fine, thanks for asking." You don't show weakness. He ended up sitting down and chatted a bit. I think I ended up opening up about it, because he was so genuine, and he had treated the one child that survived. I was deeply touched by his care and concern. It was good for me at that time. I had my experience validated in a hospital hall in the wee hours of the morning by a man I barely knew.
Recently, I learned that a Police Officer pictured with President Bush after 9/11 committed suicide. I also remember that the man who rescued the little girl from a well did the same. I understand completely how this happens. When first responders are placed on a pedestal following an incident, they can easily loose a part of themselves. When the president gets up to call you a hero, for simply doing your job, it can really mess with your head. It can really cause problems if you are feeling something very different on the inside. Most people leave the scene with just one wish: we wish that we could have done more.
I carry around a lot of different stuff from my years in emergency medicine. I've also watched co-workers become alcoholics, marriages end and careers ruined. My first year as a paramedic, I helped bury a co-worker who killed himself while in his uniform. People really just don't understand the price first responders pay. In some ways, I hope they never do.
I was a paramedic, with only one child at the time. We were called to be the back up unit on a house fire. This is not unusual, and usually it is just a precaution. I had taken a class in Critical Incident Stress and already learned a great deal about PTSD. Yet, this was the first time I responded to a scene like this as a mother.
The paramedic who had trained me was possibly one of the best, calmest medics I've ever run calls with. He was the first unit on the scene of a house fire. He called for backup right away, and we were that unit. On the way to the call, he started calling out "signal 9". This is the signal for a death. We picked up our speed a bit and heard another "signal 9". This hit me in the pit of my stomach, I looked at the paramedic driving, another "signal 9". All of these class I had been through started running through my head. This was going to be one of those 'critical incidents' we had talked about. He called another "signal 9" as we pulled up to the scene. He and his partner then took off with the one survivor of a house fire that killed 4 children. There were 4 little covered bodies laying on the grass in front of a house. This is not the image that has stuck with me all these years. What I see in my mind is a firefighter. He is sitting on the roof of a house completely silent, numb. He didn't know what else to do.
We ended up at the hospital later that evening and one of the seasoned attending doctors came up to me. He had genuine concern on his face. "How are you doing?" I answered the way most first responders would respond "I'm fine, thanks for asking." You don't show weakness. He ended up sitting down and chatted a bit. I think I ended up opening up about it, because he was so genuine, and he had treated the one child that survived. I was deeply touched by his care and concern. It was good for me at that time. I had my experience validated in a hospital hall in the wee hours of the morning by a man I barely knew.
Recently, I learned that a Police Officer pictured with President Bush after 9/11 committed suicide. I also remember that the man who rescued the little girl from a well did the same. I understand completely how this happens. When first responders are placed on a pedestal following an incident, they can easily loose a part of themselves. When the president gets up to call you a hero, for simply doing your job, it can really mess with your head. It can really cause problems if you are feeling something very different on the inside. Most people leave the scene with just one wish: we wish that we could have done more.
I carry around a lot of different stuff from my years in emergency medicine. I've also watched co-workers become alcoholics, marriages end and careers ruined. My first year as a paramedic, I helped bury a co-worker who killed himself while in his uniform. People really just don't understand the price first responders pay. In some ways, I hope they never do.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Living in the Forest
I was sitting at the table at the Convent, simply eating breakfast. I sat among elders as we chatted. I was complaining about spending the whole day blowing leaves. My beloved Ghanian friend commented assumed I was using the leaves in the garden. I said no, I was just trying to get them out of the way. She smiled and gave me a proverb. "You live in the forest, but you don't know how to live with it."
I stammered a bit and realized how true this statement was. It is true not only in the actual sense (we live on 16 acres of primarily forest), but also in a metaphorical sense. I had never thought of things this way.
This way of teaching the younger generation has been lost in our culture. A while back, she had explained to me how the children are raised in Ghana. The elders use proverbs. The children are taught different proverbs as they are growing up. Then, as the children are living their every day lives, usually a situation presents itself. If an elder wants to make a point, she will simply repeat part of a proverb. The child then gets to ponder the situation in contrast to the proverb and learn.
I think, in many ways, our southern culture lends some to this. I've always know the soft spoken older person that will speak a humble truth when the situation presents itself. You have to listen closely and often, or you will miss it.
I guess I could have missed this particular proverb if I had been in a hurry. She only said it once. I think really wise people understand that the student has to be ready to hear. It makes me wonder how many times I have been too busy, too preoccupied. I don't dare count all of the times I was more worried about making my point, than to listen.
So, I look at the kids of mine and wonder how I can try to guide them in this way. I think the trickiest part is letting the go through their day watching, listening to them. If they are really living their own lives, they'll find themselves in many real-life situations that they get to learn from. I think this is much of the substance of life.
I stammered a bit and realized how true this statement was. It is true not only in the actual sense (we live on 16 acres of primarily forest), but also in a metaphorical sense. I had never thought of things this way.
This way of teaching the younger generation has been lost in our culture. A while back, she had explained to me how the children are raised in Ghana. The elders use proverbs. The children are taught different proverbs as they are growing up. Then, as the children are living their every day lives, usually a situation presents itself. If an elder wants to make a point, she will simply repeat part of a proverb. The child then gets to ponder the situation in contrast to the proverb and learn.
I think, in many ways, our southern culture lends some to this. I've always know the soft spoken older person that will speak a humble truth when the situation presents itself. You have to listen closely and often, or you will miss it.
I guess I could have missed this particular proverb if I had been in a hurry. She only said it once. I think really wise people understand that the student has to be ready to hear. It makes me wonder how many times I have been too busy, too preoccupied. I don't dare count all of the times I was more worried about making my point, than to listen.
So, I look at the kids of mine and wonder how I can try to guide them in this way. I think the trickiest part is letting the go through their day watching, listening to them. If they are really living their own lives, they'll find themselves in many real-life situations that they get to learn from. I think this is much of the substance of life.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Worthy
"Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves."
Book of Common Prayer p.361
This is from the Episcopal service. It is an example of what Christians are expected to say before receiving communion. I remember as a child, sitting in the Lutheran church saying similar things. Every Sunday, the Pastor or Sunday school teachers would talk about Sin. They would talk about how much Jesus did for us, and we just are not thankful enough. I went every Sunday because I was raised that way. If you were not on your death bed, you were in church. My great-grandmother and cousins all wore pins that showed how many years they had gone without missing a single Sunday.
So I did as I was raised. I sat in a pew every Sunday and listened to how unworthy I was. I also found that message at home and at school.
God became this judgemental, scolding force in my life. And I, well, became a bit defiant. When I sat in that pew, I also thought about all of the good things I had done that week. I thought about the kindness I gave others. I thought about the elderly woman I helped take care of. I thought of the honesty with which I led my life. I was not capable of lying to others. Well, I was also not capable of lying to God. I would have this internal conversation sitting in a pew. I wonder what the other 8,9 or 10 year olds were doing.
This Advent, I have spent a great deal of time pondering a few things. This concept of worthiness is one of them. I wonder why some denominations have placed such an emphasis in convincing people that they are not worthy. In my saga of ex-communication, I was told I was not worthy to take communion. I was told that I must receive 'psychological testing'. I had worshipped with felons, addicts, accused child molesters, divorced parents and abusive spouses. Yet, they were worthy. Again, I heard the message that I was not. Why?
The scripture reading yesterday was of the woman caught in the very act of adultery. The church officials had bought the woman to Jesus to test him. His response was what Christianity is based on 'He who is without sin can cast the first stone.' I wish Jesus Incarnate had been present at my trial. I suspect things would have ended differently. However, the Holy Spirit was. During this time in my life, I found that defiant place deep down inside of me. I found that place that said I am a child of God, made worthy by Love.
I think that churches use this tool of shame to control the people that attend. Shame is very powerful and used to convince us that we are not worthy. It us used to convince us that we need a Priest/Pastor to tell us that we are. I also remember that part of my childhood very strongly. After having this internal conversation with God, I longed for that answer from the Pastor that said I was forgiven for being human. I was forgiven for all of the mistakes I had made that week. It helped soften the judgemental white bearded image I had been given.
"Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in eternal live. Amen."
Book of Common Prayer p. 360
So, I continue this struggle to claim my birthright of being a worthy, loved human being. I struggle to live this myself, because I want to show this to my children. I feel very strongly that if we all feel and behave as if we are worthy of love and forgiveness, we would treat people very differently. I had a very, very wise Priest once tell me that the very first step in Christianity is to accept the role of Beloved.
I will confess that, on some level, I accepted this role a long time ago. If not, I would not have been able to have that conversation in the pew. I would have not been defiant of a system that sought to control me with shame. I would not have been able to look at a bishop in the eye and say "That is not true."
In fact, if I hadn't accepted that role, I would have spent my parenting career convincing my children that they are unworthy. That would be a tragedy.
Book of Common Prayer p.361
This is from the Episcopal service. It is an example of what Christians are expected to say before receiving communion. I remember as a child, sitting in the Lutheran church saying similar things. Every Sunday, the Pastor or Sunday school teachers would talk about Sin. They would talk about how much Jesus did for us, and we just are not thankful enough. I went every Sunday because I was raised that way. If you were not on your death bed, you were in church. My great-grandmother and cousins all wore pins that showed how many years they had gone without missing a single Sunday.
So I did as I was raised. I sat in a pew every Sunday and listened to how unworthy I was. I also found that message at home and at school.
God became this judgemental, scolding force in my life. And I, well, became a bit defiant. When I sat in that pew, I also thought about all of the good things I had done that week. I thought about the kindness I gave others. I thought about the elderly woman I helped take care of. I thought of the honesty with which I led my life. I was not capable of lying to others. Well, I was also not capable of lying to God. I would have this internal conversation sitting in a pew. I wonder what the other 8,9 or 10 year olds were doing.
This Advent, I have spent a great deal of time pondering a few things. This concept of worthiness is one of them. I wonder why some denominations have placed such an emphasis in convincing people that they are not worthy. In my saga of ex-communication, I was told I was not worthy to take communion. I was told that I must receive 'psychological testing'. I had worshipped with felons, addicts, accused child molesters, divorced parents and abusive spouses. Yet, they were worthy. Again, I heard the message that I was not. Why?
The scripture reading yesterday was of the woman caught in the very act of adultery. The church officials had bought the woman to Jesus to test him. His response was what Christianity is based on 'He who is without sin can cast the first stone.' I wish Jesus Incarnate had been present at my trial. I suspect things would have ended differently. However, the Holy Spirit was. During this time in my life, I found that defiant place deep down inside of me. I found that place that said I am a child of God, made worthy by Love.
I think that churches use this tool of shame to control the people that attend. Shame is very powerful and used to convince us that we are not worthy. It us used to convince us that we need a Priest/Pastor to tell us that we are. I also remember that part of my childhood very strongly. After having this internal conversation with God, I longed for that answer from the Pastor that said I was forgiven for being human. I was forgiven for all of the mistakes I had made that week. It helped soften the judgemental white bearded image I had been given.
"Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in eternal live. Amen."
Book of Common Prayer p. 360
So, I continue this struggle to claim my birthright of being a worthy, loved human being. I struggle to live this myself, because I want to show this to my children. I feel very strongly that if we all feel and behave as if we are worthy of love and forgiveness, we would treat people very differently. I had a very, very wise Priest once tell me that the very first step in Christianity is to accept the role of Beloved.
I will confess that, on some level, I accepted this role a long time ago. If not, I would not have been able to have that conversation in the pew. I would have not been defiant of a system that sought to control me with shame. I would not have been able to look at a bishop in the eye and say "That is not true."
In fact, if I hadn't accepted that role, I would have spent my parenting career convincing my children that they are unworthy. That would be a tragedy.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Getting away
I took this weekend off work to go to an Advent Retreat. I had planned my whole month around worshipping deeply for 2 days. I wanted to write, eat well and spend time renewing my spirit. For a very good reason, the retreat was cancelled.
So, instead of attending this wonderful retreat today, I found myself cleaning up dog poop (because my husband insisted on keeping 2 puppies). As I was scrubbing, I actually started pouting. It is such a contrast to how I have planned to spend my time. Plus, is this how I should be celebrating the beginning of Advent?
In a word, yes.
A woman's work is never done. We are always scrubbing, cleaning, organizing, teaching, correcting, paying bills, cooking, buying, etc. I feel immense pressure in the care and keeping of this family. It makes me wonder about the immense pressure a 16 year old Virgin felt as she left on a trip to give birth to God Incarnate.
Somehow, I believe that she had to get away to do this really hard work. If she had stayed at home, too many things would have gotten her attention. Plus, I know there is theological significance to all of it. I have never spent much time in the intellectual side of religion. I tend to ponder the every day messy part. Of course Mary needed to leave her home to do this work.
I had planned to try to spend some time in a semi-retreat here at the house. There is some writing I need to do, journalling, reading. Instead, I scrubbed a floor, paid the bills and washed the children. This will be the entirety of my weekend. I realize that I will really have to leave the house in order to spend time renewing myself.
I will not spend a second feeling guilty when I do get away.
So, instead of attending this wonderful retreat today, I found myself cleaning up dog poop (because my husband insisted on keeping 2 puppies). As I was scrubbing, I actually started pouting. It is such a contrast to how I have planned to spend my time. Plus, is this how I should be celebrating the beginning of Advent?
In a word, yes.
A woman's work is never done. We are always scrubbing, cleaning, organizing, teaching, correcting, paying bills, cooking, buying, etc. I feel immense pressure in the care and keeping of this family. It makes me wonder about the immense pressure a 16 year old Virgin felt as she left on a trip to give birth to God Incarnate.
Somehow, I believe that she had to get away to do this really hard work. If she had stayed at home, too many things would have gotten her attention. Plus, I know there is theological significance to all of it. I have never spent much time in the intellectual side of religion. I tend to ponder the every day messy part. Of course Mary needed to leave her home to do this work.
I had planned to try to spend some time in a semi-retreat here at the house. There is some writing I need to do, journalling, reading. Instead, I scrubbed a floor, paid the bills and washed the children. This will be the entirety of my weekend. I realize that I will really have to leave the house in order to spend time renewing myself.
I will not spend a second feeling guilty when I do get away.
Moving on
I've been struggling with my work and schedule now for several months. I can give all sorts of external reasons for me to leave this job that I am in. I can also give you all sorts of reasons to stay. This week, a feeling I cannot describe impelled me to put in my resignation.
I don't have another job yet, and this is pretty scary. I have a few ideas and I have several weeks to start looking, but it is a vulnerable place to be. Moving forward, trusting that it will work out. For me, I've always been incredibly blessed. I've always found a way to land on my feet.
The day that I decided to resign, I had quite a few things happen to affirm that decision. Yesterday, I ran into a former co-worker who wants me to come work with him. Intersting, don't you think?
I don't have another job yet, and this is pretty scary. I have a few ideas and I have several weeks to start looking, but it is a vulnerable place to be. Moving forward, trusting that it will work out. For me, I've always been incredibly blessed. I've always found a way to land on my feet.
The day that I decided to resign, I had quite a few things happen to affirm that decision. Yesterday, I ran into a former co-worker who wants me to come work with him. Intersting, don't you think?
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Gray Hair
Whenever I would walk into my grandmother's house, I felt welcome and valued. She would stop whatever she was doing and make me the focus of her attention. Then, she did those little things that made me cared for. She was retired when I was born, and had the extra time that most people don't have. She had gray hair, and the best hugs.
I've found myself a bit worn down lately. I had been doing a better job of taking care of myself, but that has gotten pushed aside with sick kids and responsibilities. I left the house last night under the pretense that I needed to deposit a check and sell some used books. I found myself dreading going home because I needed my own respite from being the one taking care of everyone else. It then hit me: I know a gray haired lady who is always glad to see me.
So, I left the book store and made a surprise visit to the woman my children refer to as their great-great-great grandma. I don't see her very much since we changed churches, and I realized how much I missed her. So I got to sit in her rocking chair and swap stories for a little while. Her perspective on things was greatly appreciated. Her kindness was even more appreciated.
So, the lesson for me is that there is always someone around to fill a role. Sometimes, you have to look a little ways. Sometimes, it will find you. Either way, we are all here to be a part of each other's lives. I hope I don't wait so long to go visit my gray haired friend next time.
I've found myself a bit worn down lately. I had been doing a better job of taking care of myself, but that has gotten pushed aside with sick kids and responsibilities. I left the house last night under the pretense that I needed to deposit a check and sell some used books. I found myself dreading going home because I needed my own respite from being the one taking care of everyone else. It then hit me: I know a gray haired lady who is always glad to see me.
So, I left the book store and made a surprise visit to the woman my children refer to as their great-great-great grandma. I don't see her very much since we changed churches, and I realized how much I missed her. So I got to sit in her rocking chair and swap stories for a little while. Her perspective on things was greatly appreciated. Her kindness was even more appreciated.
So, the lesson for me is that there is always someone around to fill a role. Sometimes, you have to look a little ways. Sometimes, it will find you. Either way, we are all here to be a part of each other's lives. I hope I don't wait so long to go visit my gray haired friend next time.
Fully Human
A long time ago, I was sitting in church listening to the readings. I had an Epiphany of sorts. It is something I have based much of my 'religious' thoughts on. Jesus is considered to be fully human, fully divine. His teachings are geared, however, towards teaching us how to be fully human. He tells us to love one another. This, of course, is a divine calling. However, it teaches us how to get along.
I heard a Priest joke one time about his role. He said that because he stands at the altar, children sometimes ask him if he is God. His response is "I don't correct them."
I think the flip side of this is also very true. We want others to be god. We want doctors to be completely right, all of the time. We want clergy to provide Divine guidance. I heard a story of a rector who started showing his displeasure at how the vestry was treating him. He tried to say, "Wait a minute, that isn't fair." In response, the Senior Warden replied "We don't want to know that you bleed." We set up others in some sort of twisted humanity. One that entitles people to say and do whatever they want.
I think that many people love this role of being seen as God or a god. People want to be bullet proof and perfect. Doctors are notorious for this. Unfortunately, getting stuck into this sort of distorted role, you loose the ability to be human
Being human means that you make mistakes, you grow and most importantly: you suffer. Christ shares his suffering with us as he wept in the Garden. He knows what it is like to suffer physically, to watch his mother suffer. He shares with us His anguish on the cross. I think this is what he really came to teach us.
Walking around performing miracles, teaching, telling parables are all the easy part. Standing up before a crowd and being admired and worshipped is rewarding. Strutting around your job, church or a hospital is forgetting your own fallible nature. Letting others see your pain is excruciating. Inviting others to know you in a vulnerable way can be dangerous. Confessing your mistakes is difficult. Although there is great suffering in being human, there is much joy. It frees you from the confines of playing perfect and lets you join others in being human. It gives you others to suffer with you, and to celebrate with you.
I've found myself in groups where humanity is not allowed. I've watched people turn their back on me because of a mistake. Worse than that, I've watch them shun me because they didn't want to admit their own mistakes. This has happened more than I care to think about. It has left me doing my best to be seen as perfect, not wanting to be questioned. I don't want to be placed in the position of having to prove myself, again.
Yet, I've realized that this is not fair to my children (or even to myself). They are getting to see that I am human. I make mistakes. Period. I always try to fix them, but I'll probably make more mistakes. At least at home, I have a real community that accepts me in all my humanity. Everyone should be so blessed.
I heard a Priest joke one time about his role. He said that because he stands at the altar, children sometimes ask him if he is God. His response is "I don't correct them."
I think the flip side of this is also very true. We want others to be god. We want doctors to be completely right, all of the time. We want clergy to provide Divine guidance. I heard a story of a rector who started showing his displeasure at how the vestry was treating him. He tried to say, "Wait a minute, that isn't fair." In response, the Senior Warden replied "We don't want to know that you bleed." We set up others in some sort of twisted humanity. One that entitles people to say and do whatever they want.
I think that many people love this role of being seen as God or a god. People want to be bullet proof and perfect. Doctors are notorious for this. Unfortunately, getting stuck into this sort of distorted role, you loose the ability to be human
Being human means that you make mistakes, you grow and most importantly: you suffer. Christ shares his suffering with us as he wept in the Garden. He knows what it is like to suffer physically, to watch his mother suffer. He shares with us His anguish on the cross. I think this is what he really came to teach us.
Walking around performing miracles, teaching, telling parables are all the easy part. Standing up before a crowd and being admired and worshipped is rewarding. Strutting around your job, church or a hospital is forgetting your own fallible nature. Letting others see your pain is excruciating. Inviting others to know you in a vulnerable way can be dangerous. Confessing your mistakes is difficult. Although there is great suffering in being human, there is much joy. It frees you from the confines of playing perfect and lets you join others in being human. It gives you others to suffer with you, and to celebrate with you.
I've found myself in groups where humanity is not allowed. I've watched people turn their back on me because of a mistake. Worse than that, I've watch them shun me because they didn't want to admit their own mistakes. This has happened more than I care to think about. It has left me doing my best to be seen as perfect, not wanting to be questioned. I don't want to be placed in the position of having to prove myself, again.
Yet, I've realized that this is not fair to my children (or even to myself). They are getting to see that I am human. I make mistakes. Period. I always try to fix them, but I'll probably make more mistakes. At least at home, I have a real community that accepts me in all my humanity. Everyone should be so blessed.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Unintended consequences
I attended a wonderful conference last week. One of the main sessions was taking a look at policy. The speaker went through a great deal of research and showed how a certain policy was taking a low risk group and turning it into a high risk group. She even used the studies that the policy makers had used. This caused quite a stir because we are not to question those in authority. We are expected to trust them.
Of course, the intent of these policy makers in authority is to help people and save babies. These, I am sure, are good people. Unfortunately, when you place yourself in a position of authority, you can also easily abuse this authority. You must allow people to question you. You must share your authority with those you serve.
Much of my time as a nurse seems to be devoted to returning the patient's authority to them. I say things like "I am giving you my opinion. It is an educated opinion, but the final decision is yours." I really don't think anyone is served by abdicating authority to a doctor, nurse, Priest or teacher. I think that people should not follow policy blindly, hoping that it will keep them safe. As this speaker proved, sometimes there are unintended consequences.
Of course, the intent of these policy makers in authority is to help people and save babies. These, I am sure, are good people. Unfortunately, when you place yourself in a position of authority, you can also easily abuse this authority. You must allow people to question you. You must share your authority with those you serve.
Much of my time as a nurse seems to be devoted to returning the patient's authority to them. I say things like "I am giving you my opinion. It is an educated opinion, but the final decision is yours." I really don't think anyone is served by abdicating authority to a doctor, nurse, Priest or teacher. I think that people should not follow policy blindly, hoping that it will keep them safe. As this speaker proved, sometimes there are unintended consequences.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Pull me!!
I started to walk around the wall and not try for myself, but I decided to give it a try. It was very vulnerable standing on some one's shoulders. All of my strength went to keep from falling backwards, which I almost did. I finally put up both of my hands and yelled "Pull me!" I even lifted up a foot and offered it to someone else to grab. In total, I think that it took about 5 or 6 people to get me up on the lip of the top. I got stuck, again, as I tried to work my boobs and belly over. Then, it was my turn to help again as I grunted really loud and helped worked my weight onto the top of the wall. Then came a bigger yell. "Oh, Yeah!!". It was exhilarating to get over a wall so high.
The mudrun was a really good thing for me to do. I learned a lot about myself and it brought up many emotions for me. I haven't pushed my body this hard in decades, and it shows it.
It also brought something very, very important home to me. I am never alone. Never.
I was new to the ER and worked my first code as a nurse. I became very upset with another co-worker, I felt out of place and the all the stress got to me. Later, as we were preparing the body, the charge nurse came in to speak with me and another new nurse. She said "You two need to understand one thing. I don't care where you are in this hospital, there is always help. You are never alone." I let her words soak in as I tried to figure out what kind of nurse I wanted to be. I let those words soak in when I realize how much I fear being left behind. I let her words work on my fears of feeling all alone.
When I act as if I am all alone, I am left behind the wall. When I remember there are many, many people in this world who are working right along side me, I can accomplish most anything. Oh Yeah!!
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Playing small
One upon a time, I was an in-shape, skilled basketball player. I was even offered a position on a major college basketball team. If my grades had been better, I'd probably have played on the team. Instead, I ended up out at the cement courts playing with mostly men. In fact, I've played against several NFL stars. The football team always headed out to the courts when spring practice was over. It was probably the first time I played with pure athletes, much better than me. I raised my game significantly, and was in the best playing shape of my life.
One day, I was waiting for enough people to come to play a game. I ended up in a one-on-one game with a guy about my size. As we were playing, it became pretty clear I was the better player. In fact, I was much better and was winning handily. This was truly distressing to my opponent. He was getting beat by A GIRL, and all of the other guys were arriving at the court. The more upset he got, the less effort I put into my game. I started playing small. He ended up strutting off the court, not even realizing that I had let him win. I regretted letting him win.
To this day, I still struggle with this dynamic with other people. For the most part, people put their efforts into making people small. This is what makes them feel big. I find it hard to find people who will work towards raising their own game when challenged.
Someone I used to know confessed that I intimidated him. I was naive in thinking that he would work on himself. Instead, I would learn that this was my cue to play small. When I didn't play small, he used whatever tactic he could to get me out of the game.
I am sad for this person, and many others who need to make others small in order to feel big. I am even more sad for the people they shrink.
I've been one of this people who get shrunk. I've struggled with this most of my life. My fear of being kicked out of the game overcomes my desire to live to my full potential. I am trying to still this fear, and work on becoming the woman I am supposed to be.
Right now, I am prayerful to be surrounded with people who help me raise my game, in life. I want to avoid those people who insist on my playing small. I want to avoid this trap I easily fall into. I hope that I won't be the one intimidated, nervous or scared. I hope I won't expect others to play small to help me. I hope that I find a way to play just the right size.
One day, I was waiting for enough people to come to play a game. I ended up in a one-on-one game with a guy about my size. As we were playing, it became pretty clear I was the better player. In fact, I was much better and was winning handily. This was truly distressing to my opponent. He was getting beat by A GIRL, and all of the other guys were arriving at the court. The more upset he got, the less effort I put into my game. I started playing small. He ended up strutting off the court, not even realizing that I had let him win. I regretted letting him win.
To this day, I still struggle with this dynamic with other people. For the most part, people put their efforts into making people small. This is what makes them feel big. I find it hard to find people who will work towards raising their own game when challenged.
Someone I used to know confessed that I intimidated him. I was naive in thinking that he would work on himself. Instead, I would learn that this was my cue to play small. When I didn't play small, he used whatever tactic he could to get me out of the game.
I am sad for this person, and many others who need to make others small in order to feel big. I am even more sad for the people they shrink.
I've been one of this people who get shrunk. I've struggled with this most of my life. My fear of being kicked out of the game overcomes my desire to live to my full potential. I am trying to still this fear, and work on becoming the woman I am supposed to be.
Right now, I am prayerful to be surrounded with people who help me raise my game, in life. I want to avoid those people who insist on my playing small. I want to avoid this trap I easily fall into. I hope that I won't be the one intimidated, nervous or scared. I hope I won't expect others to play small to help me. I hope that I find a way to play just the right size.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Come to my table
I sat with a piece of paper, trying to draw out the design of our house. We started from scratch and tried to visualize what we wanted for our family. The kitchen was, by far, the most important part. It is the heart of our home. It is where I get to feed people.
Last week, a bunch of us moms gathered in my kitchen. We know of a family struggling with a baby with health concerns. In all of the discussing, we decided that feeding them was the most helpful thing. It was decided to fill their freezer with meals to use whenever they needed it. My house has a big open kitchen, so we worked here.
When the first guest arrived, we got into a discussion of how amazing it is to gather this way. We felt like this is really what community is. Gathering, preparing, cooking and eating food. We did it in a way that fed a family, but it also fed our souls. I am sure that I received more from the experience than I gave in a couple of casseroles.
There was a time when I told a family member he couldn't come to my house for a meal. He was battling addiction, and I felt the need to protect my children. Last year, I apologized to him. I told him that my church had refused me communion and I understood what it must have felt like to be refused food. This was a hard apology for me to make, because it felt like such a good decision at the time. He answered with compassion, stating that he had understood why I did what I did.
Food becomes such a central part of what we do. It is how most cultures celebrate, morn and grow. One of my Spiritual Directors is from Africa. I, naively, asked her one day if many people went with out food. She was a bit offended by the question stating, "In my country, if someone else doesn't have food, I don't eat. We always share, making sure there is extra for those needing it."
This sharing of a meal can become one of the most important events for a family. It doesn't matter who is mad at who or how busy we are, we can always come to the table.
So, in my house, we have my grandmother's kitchen table. I many, many fond memories of that table. Now, it is where we do homework, pay the bills, play cards and eat. Last week, it became a place where we prepared and packaged food for another family.
Last week, a bunch of us moms gathered in my kitchen. We know of a family struggling with a baby with health concerns. In all of the discussing, we decided that feeding them was the most helpful thing. It was decided to fill their freezer with meals to use whenever they needed it. My house has a big open kitchen, so we worked here.
When the first guest arrived, we got into a discussion of how amazing it is to gather this way. We felt like this is really what community is. Gathering, preparing, cooking and eating food. We did it in a way that fed a family, but it also fed our souls. I am sure that I received more from the experience than I gave in a couple of casseroles.
There was a time when I told a family member he couldn't come to my house for a meal. He was battling addiction, and I felt the need to protect my children. Last year, I apologized to him. I told him that my church had refused me communion and I understood what it must have felt like to be refused food. This was a hard apology for me to make, because it felt like such a good decision at the time. He answered with compassion, stating that he had understood why I did what I did.
Food becomes such a central part of what we do. It is how most cultures celebrate, morn and grow. One of my Spiritual Directors is from Africa. I, naively, asked her one day if many people went with out food. She was a bit offended by the question stating, "In my country, if someone else doesn't have food, I don't eat. We always share, making sure there is extra for those needing it."
This sharing of a meal can become one of the most important events for a family. It doesn't matter who is mad at who or how busy we are, we can always come to the table.
So, in my house, we have my grandmother's kitchen table. I many, many fond memories of that table. Now, it is where we do homework, pay the bills, play cards and eat. Last week, it became a place where we prepared and packaged food for another family.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Hello, my name is....
This was the beginning of a post by a Bishop on facebook. He was talking about entering into a new church and putting on his name tag. It is something we should all be able to do, and not just with a new group of people.
I was lamenting to my spiritual director about loosing a friend. I said "I thought I knew her." The director's response surprised me. (I'm paraphrasing) "You did know her in that moment, but people are constantly changing. In fact, you are both changing. How you know someone depends on many things, including your own growth."
I think this is one of my most frustrating challenges in life. I've been attached to people who think they know me. It is as if I am a painting that never changes. This translates into an even bigger problem when you get stuck within this system. This is how I know you, therefore this is who you are. This is particularly dangerous, because you can end up believing them.
As I have traveled down this winding path, I've made a sincere effort to see people fresh. I've tried to be secure enough to keep from insisting a person be who I need them to be. This can be de-stabilizing in many ways, because it challenges me to change my own perspective. It challenges me to let people introduce themselves and learn about them. I challenges me to silence the tapes in my head and really hear the other person.
I've come to accept that there are people in this world, in my family and in my community who will only see in me what they want to. They are not capable of challenging their own perceptions of things. They are not willing to spend time being unstable, of embracing change.
Recently, a friend from my college days commented about being proud of the woman I am becoming. This is, in many ways, is quite satisfying to me. I love the fact that I am able to re-introduce myself over and over to people who care about me.
For those people who insist on maintaining their built-in beliefs about me, I just keep remembering a song. It is, of course, by Alanis Morisette.
"One day I'll introduce myself, because you've not yet met me."
Wouldn't it be nice if we could all put on our name tags and introduce ourselves to each other?
Hello, my name is Melissa. This is my story.
I was lamenting to my spiritual director about loosing a friend. I said "I thought I knew her." The director's response surprised me. (I'm paraphrasing) "You did know her in that moment, but people are constantly changing. In fact, you are both changing. How you know someone depends on many things, including your own growth."
I think this is one of my most frustrating challenges in life. I've been attached to people who think they know me. It is as if I am a painting that never changes. This translates into an even bigger problem when you get stuck within this system. This is how I know you, therefore this is who you are. This is particularly dangerous, because you can end up believing them.
As I have traveled down this winding path, I've made a sincere effort to see people fresh. I've tried to be secure enough to keep from insisting a person be who I need them to be. This can be de-stabilizing in many ways, because it challenges me to change my own perspective. It challenges me to let people introduce themselves and learn about them. I challenges me to silence the tapes in my head and really hear the other person.
I've come to accept that there are people in this world, in my family and in my community who will only see in me what they want to. They are not capable of challenging their own perceptions of things. They are not willing to spend time being unstable, of embracing change.
Recently, a friend from my college days commented about being proud of the woman I am becoming. This is, in many ways, is quite satisfying to me. I love the fact that I am able to re-introduce myself over and over to people who care about me.
For those people who insist on maintaining their built-in beliefs about me, I just keep remembering a song. It is, of course, by Alanis Morisette.
"One day I'll introduce myself, because you've not yet met me."
Wouldn't it be nice if we could all put on our name tags and introduce ourselves to each other?
Hello, my name is Melissa. This is my story.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Friends
I am entering into a bit of a second stage of life. As someone told me "When I turned 40, I felt like I had earned it." I know, for certain, that I see things much differently. One of those things is friendship.
I used to choose friends based on what they would do. Would they help me when I needed it? Will they help me with the kids? Could they play cards? This, among other things, seemed to set up an unequal relationship. This 'action plan' as it were, seems to make for short lived friendships. Eventually, one person isn't going to do or say the right thing.
I am learning that the best friends are not perfect, and don't always *do* the right thing. However, it ends up being about who we *are*, not what we do.
This week, I went to see a very young, inexperienced doctor and he gave me a possible diagnosis that would be life changing. It absolutely wrecked me. I went into isolation mode, and decided to just be mad. I ended up on the phone with a friend. I was a total mess. As I started my usual coping skill of lashing out, she reminded me something. "We're going to be friends for a long time."
My anger (actually fear) turned to gratitude pretty quickly. I realized I had a different sort of friend here. She was just going to *be* a friend.
Thankfully, this doctor ended up being wrong, but is was a terrible day for me. I was faced with my own mortality and hit some emotions I hadn't expected to hit. And I learned a very valuable lesson in friendship. I hope that I am learning how to *be* a good friend, too. This reminds me of a line from an Alanis Morissette song.
"One day, I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends."
One day.
I used to choose friends based on what they would do. Would they help me when I needed it? Will they help me with the kids? Could they play cards? This, among other things, seemed to set up an unequal relationship. This 'action plan' as it were, seems to make for short lived friendships. Eventually, one person isn't going to do or say the right thing.
I am learning that the best friends are not perfect, and don't always *do* the right thing. However, it ends up being about who we *are*, not what we do.
This week, I went to see a very young, inexperienced doctor and he gave me a possible diagnosis that would be life changing. It absolutely wrecked me. I went into isolation mode, and decided to just be mad. I ended up on the phone with a friend. I was a total mess. As I started my usual coping skill of lashing out, she reminded me something. "We're going to be friends for a long time."
My anger (actually fear) turned to gratitude pretty quickly. I realized I had a different sort of friend here. She was just going to *be* a friend.
Thankfully, this doctor ended up being wrong, but is was a terrible day for me. I was faced with my own mortality and hit some emotions I hadn't expected to hit. And I learned a very valuable lesson in friendship. I hope that I am learning how to *be* a good friend, too. This reminds me of a line from an Alanis Morissette song.
"One day, I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends."
One day.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Praying for me
When I arrived at school for my final nursing exam, I reached in my pocket to call my grandmother. She would always say a prayer for me. I always had this sense of someone else rooting for me and holding me in prayer. As I reflexively reached for my phone, it suddenly hit me. My grandmother had passed away the day before. She was really, really gone. And I felt all alone. It was at that moment, that I felt as though I would always be praying for myself.
Yesterday, I posted a comment on facebook about sitting for a national exam. A friend popped up and said she would be praying for me. This act reached down and touched a place of mine that I had forgotten about. It is that place that reminds me that I am not all alone, that I have people rooting for me.
It really is such a simple act, a few words, a holding in the heart. It doesn't cost anything, but it is worth more than words can say.
Yesterday, I posted a comment on facebook about sitting for a national exam. A friend popped up and said she would be praying for me. This act reached down and touched a place of mine that I had forgotten about. It is that place that reminds me that I am not all alone, that I have people rooting for me.
It really is such a simple act, a few words, a holding in the heart. It doesn't cost anything, but it is worth more than words can say.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Get to the point
I gave my second Toastmaster's speech today. I tried very hard to look, act and sound confident. This does not come easy to me, so this is part of my lesson here. I have a mentor who is very encouraging and helping me step out of my comfort zone. My speech was entitled 'Why would anyone in their right mind want to become a nurse?'
I think the content of the speech was pretty good. I ended up not reading it, I used some notes. The odd part for me was that I went over time. I started this speech writing process thinking that I would have a hard time coming up with a solid 5-7 minutes. I was worried I would come in under time. Last night, I started timing myself. I had written a 15 minute speech! I couldn't believe it. So I started cutting out parts, dissecting things. I decided I could talk a little bit faster. In the end, I had only half of my speech left. I thought, for certain, I would be fine. Well, I wasn't.
I talked a bit with my evaluator afterwords and he helped me understand something very important. I should have concentrated on making only one point. You tell stories, work on tying things in, but it all ties into the one thing you are trying to convey. He said good speakers need about 10 minutes a point. Inexperienced speakers (ME!) try to make several points in a short amount of time.
He said that I had some really good things today, it was just too easy to get lost in them. You have to give the audience time to absorb a point, not step on it with another one.
So, in a way, this takes the pressure off. I need to simplify and work on just a single point. I can be glad if I convey one idea to a group of people and move on to see what is next.
I think the content of the speech was pretty good. I ended up not reading it, I used some notes. The odd part for me was that I went over time. I started this speech writing process thinking that I would have a hard time coming up with a solid 5-7 minutes. I was worried I would come in under time. Last night, I started timing myself. I had written a 15 minute speech! I couldn't believe it. So I started cutting out parts, dissecting things. I decided I could talk a little bit faster. In the end, I had only half of my speech left. I thought, for certain, I would be fine. Well, I wasn't.
I talked a bit with my evaluator afterwords and he helped me understand something very important. I should have concentrated on making only one point. You tell stories, work on tying things in, but it all ties into the one thing you are trying to convey. He said good speakers need about 10 minutes a point. Inexperienced speakers (ME!) try to make several points in a short amount of time.
He said that I had some really good things today, it was just too easy to get lost in them. You have to give the audience time to absorb a point, not step on it with another one.
So, in a way, this takes the pressure off. I need to simplify and work on just a single point. I can be glad if I convey one idea to a group of people and move on to see what is next.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Turning 40
I turn 40 years old today. It got me to thinking about other major birthdays. I spent my 18th birthday on my first day of college at Clemson. I was lost most of the day and completely overwhelmed with being away from home. It was not a pleasant day, lost in the chaos of a new life.
I spent my 20's working as a paramedic. I experienced, saw and did things that most people never dream of. It was where I cut my teeth in medicine, and it made me a better person. I was married and birthed 2 children. I fell in love with mother/baby care and this is what propelled me to go to nursing school.
Ironically, my 30th birthday was spent in an auditorium for my first day of nursing school. At the time, I thought I was too old to go back to college. One day, I had decided that I would be 32 in two years. I could be 32 and nurse, or 32 and still not a nurse. Every single day, I am grateful that I went back to school to enter into this profession. My 30's were quite turbulent at times. I opened myself up to deal with much of the baggage I carried around with me. Our family struggled a great deal during this decade. I had 2 more children. Our marriage struggled , our finances struggled through unemployment, our children struggled in school. We managed to press on and go from surviving to thriving. We built our dream house in the country, found great jobs and found our tribe of true friends.
This summer has been filled with angst about this birthday. I was going to loose 20 pounds to prepare for it. I think I gained 5. I was going to get another tattoo, I never got around to it. Yet, now, here it is. Surprisingly, I have a new sense of peace. We just took the family on a most amazing trip to Texas. It was a trip filled with many blessings and much beauty. My husband joined the ranks of the employed with a great job right here in Gilbert. I find myself on the cusp of some very interesting things professionally. I look around me and see real, authentic, loving relationships. I see, now, that the struggled of my 30's has left me looking forward to a decade with a sense of accomplishment and security in knowing that I have done so much of the work to prepare myself for whatever is to come. All of that struggle and work was worth it, every bit.
Bring on the next decade!!
I spent my 20's working as a paramedic. I experienced, saw and did things that most people never dream of. It was where I cut my teeth in medicine, and it made me a better person. I was married and birthed 2 children. I fell in love with mother/baby care and this is what propelled me to go to nursing school.
Ironically, my 30th birthday was spent in an auditorium for my first day of nursing school. At the time, I thought I was too old to go back to college. One day, I had decided that I would be 32 in two years. I could be 32 and nurse, or 32 and still not a nurse. Every single day, I am grateful that I went back to school to enter into this profession. My 30's were quite turbulent at times. I opened myself up to deal with much of the baggage I carried around with me. Our family struggled a great deal during this decade. I had 2 more children. Our marriage struggled , our finances struggled through unemployment, our children struggled in school. We managed to press on and go from surviving to thriving. We built our dream house in the country, found great jobs and found our tribe of true friends.
This summer has been filled with angst about this birthday. I was going to loose 20 pounds to prepare for it. I think I gained 5. I was going to get another tattoo, I never got around to it. Yet, now, here it is. Surprisingly, I have a new sense of peace. We just took the family on a most amazing trip to Texas. It was a trip filled with many blessings and much beauty. My husband joined the ranks of the employed with a great job right here in Gilbert. I find myself on the cusp of some very interesting things professionally. I look around me and see real, authentic, loving relationships. I see, now, that the struggled of my 30's has left me looking forward to a decade with a sense of accomplishment and security in knowing that I have done so much of the work to prepare myself for whatever is to come. All of that struggle and work was worth it, every bit.
Bring on the next decade!!
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Front page!!
This is the article that appeared in The State newspaper in 2005. It was a very interesting turn of events that led me to the front page of South Carolina's largest newspaper. I had become involved in the South Carolina Breastfeeding Action Committee, mainly because I was the Area Coordinator of Leaders for La Leche League of South Carolina and a post-partum nurse. I also happened to be pregnant and nursing a baby during this year long process.
I was sent an email to let me know that my name had been given to a reporter who wanted to do a story about the proposed bill. I had already spoken on a couple of expert panels and had a pretty good idea of what to say. When the reporter called me, he started asking the usual questions. I tried very hard to answer them in an articulate and interesting way. After a few minutes of talking, he laughed and said he didn't know much about children or breastfeeding. He didn't have any kids. I laughed, too. I finally said, "will you let me ramble for a little bit? I think I know what you want to try to say." After a few minutes of rambling, he got very excited. He then started asking very good questions. He called me back a little while later and asked if I knew anyone who would pose for a picture while breastfeeding. Well, I happened to be nursing my own baby. The next thing I know, I am meeting a photographer at a friend's house for a photo shoot.
This turned out to be an incredibly intense day for me. I had, up until this point, tried to be fairly private about my parenting/nursing/family beliefs. I had just joined a new church, and I knew that it was not very child friendly. I had only been out of nursing school for a little over a year. I was trying very hard to fly under the radar and just take care of my kids. I had absolutely no intention of becoming a spokesperson for anything. I started becoming a little nervous about this story that I expected to get tucked into a second or third Metro section article. I got even more nervous when I volunteered to pose for a picture. Can you imagine what I felt like when I opened up the newspaper and saw my picture on the front page?!? My dad had never even seen my nurse a baby!
It was one of those moments that I realized that I did not have much of a choice any more. People would know where I stand, and I had to be ok with that. My days of flying under any radar would be over. It would eventually make me a target. Usually, when one works towards being well differentiated, it threatens other people and they react strongly. I think this keeps many people from expressing their beliefs, it has kept me quiet for many months now.
I am having a hard time with all of the ruckus surrounding the Chic-fil-a mess. I am happy to see people giving their money to a business they support. I think this is one of those things that makes this country great. What is nagging me is my own silence. I've kept my mouth shut for fear of alienating my friends who believe differently. This is a hotly debated issue, and I really don't care what you believe either way.
That said, my brother is gay. I've known since he was 4 years old that *something* was different. I've also watched him struggle his whole life being judged by people and told he was going to hell, or depraved or whatever. I've even been guilty of judging him and wondering "Why?".
Jesus commanded us to love one another. That is all. I love my LGTB friends, and I love the ones condemning them. I love you all.
Friday, July 27, 2012
I dareth you.....
.....to forgive me.
It was the last line in the cartoon I was watching with my 6 year old today. It has hit onto a theme for me right now, so I here I sit at my computer.
Yesterday, I was able to discuss things with 2 good friends. One of the conversations happened on my Therapist's couch, the other over a glass of wine. Both had the same themes of community and forgiveness. Both also had the flavor of honoring growth and compassion.
My spiritual mentor asked me why I keep revisiting old hurts. She exhorted me with the words "You are carrying around a dead baby." So, I took my question to a gifted therapist. Why am I doing this? The answer came out in a few minutes, and it even hurts to think about it. I feel bound to those people from whom I have asked for forgiveness. I struggle with wanting to be forgiven by them, and I hurt because they have not.
As I pondered this place of feeling stuck, I remembered a Rite found in the Book of Common Prayer. I participated in it as a birthday gift to myself when I turned 35. It is called "The Reconciliation of a Penitent." This was actually a process of my unburdening all that I carried. "Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you." (Matthew 11:28)
I had spent a few weeks writing down my sins. I ended up with several pieces of paper. As I looked back over them, I began to realize all of the things weighing me down. Eventually, I sorted through the silly things and focused on some of the core issues. In the end, I realized that I carried far more than I had deserved. In some ways, I ended up carrying other people's burdens. I think I was raised that way. Yesterday, I realized that I am still doing that with this desire to be forgiven. It is the burden of those who wish to be in Christian Community to work on their own reconciliation. Of course, we must realize that we are all a Penitent. We are all human, and we all make mistakes. For me, the root of forgiveness begins with my own acknowledgement that I am also capable of the act for which I am forgiving the other person.
It is almost 5 years since I gave my life Confession. It was an act of pure vulnerability and a sign of seeking wholeness in the Holy. I almost quit during the Rite. I had to ask myself if I were REALLY ready to do this: "Do you, then, forgive those who have sinned against you?" As I was kneeling, I took a deep breath. I paused wondering, am I even capable of this? This was one of those pivotal moments in my spiritual journey, and I took this leap of faith. I no longer want to bind people to me with a lack of forgiveness.
So, for my 40th birthday, I am revisiting this Rite. I am not exactly sure I know how to do this. I have become cynical of the politics involved in church. Those Priests left in my life are also my friends and mentors.
Yet, a big part of me desires to hear those words spoken again by a clergy member: "The lord has put away all your sins." Thanks be to God.
It was the last line in the cartoon I was watching with my 6 year old today. It has hit onto a theme for me right now, so I here I sit at my computer.
Yesterday, I was able to discuss things with 2 good friends. One of the conversations happened on my Therapist's couch, the other over a glass of wine. Both had the same themes of community and forgiveness. Both also had the flavor of honoring growth and compassion.
My spiritual mentor asked me why I keep revisiting old hurts. She exhorted me with the words "You are carrying around a dead baby." So, I took my question to a gifted therapist. Why am I doing this? The answer came out in a few minutes, and it even hurts to think about it. I feel bound to those people from whom I have asked for forgiveness. I struggle with wanting to be forgiven by them, and I hurt because they have not.
As I pondered this place of feeling stuck, I remembered a Rite found in the Book of Common Prayer. I participated in it as a birthday gift to myself when I turned 35. It is called "The Reconciliation of a Penitent." This was actually a process of my unburdening all that I carried. "Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you." (Matthew 11:28)
I had spent a few weeks writing down my sins. I ended up with several pieces of paper. As I looked back over them, I began to realize all of the things weighing me down. Eventually, I sorted through the silly things and focused on some of the core issues. In the end, I realized that I carried far more than I had deserved. In some ways, I ended up carrying other people's burdens. I think I was raised that way. Yesterday, I realized that I am still doing that with this desire to be forgiven. It is the burden of those who wish to be in Christian Community to work on their own reconciliation. Of course, we must realize that we are all a Penitent. We are all human, and we all make mistakes. For me, the root of forgiveness begins with my own acknowledgement that I am also capable of the act for which I am forgiving the other person.
It is almost 5 years since I gave my life Confession. It was an act of pure vulnerability and a sign of seeking wholeness in the Holy. I almost quit during the Rite. I had to ask myself if I were REALLY ready to do this: "Do you, then, forgive those who have sinned against you?" As I was kneeling, I took a deep breath. I paused wondering, am I even capable of this? This was one of those pivotal moments in my spiritual journey, and I took this leap of faith. I no longer want to bind people to me with a lack of forgiveness.
So, for my 40th birthday, I am revisiting this Rite. I am not exactly sure I know how to do this. I have become cynical of the politics involved in church. Those Priests left in my life are also my friends and mentors.
Yet, a big part of me desires to hear those words spoken again by a clergy member: "The lord has put away all your sins." Thanks be to God.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Satisfaction
I decided to take an impromptu trip to see Richard Walters from Pink Floyd last week. I had seen them when I was in college, and took the opportunity to ride with a friend to Charlotte for the concert. I went to the closet to grab a hat and saw the carrier I have used for many years to carry my kids. I always grab it to take on trips, even now. This time, I left it and grabbed my own hat.
As I grabbed my hat, I had a sense of the end of an era. My youngest turned 4 years old this week. We have had young children in the house since 1997. Most of our life has been very family centered since then. I've toted babies all over this country. Steve even got very good at carrying the kids.
What surprised me about my acknowledgement of this ending is my feeling of sincere satisfaction. I have put in time with my kids, lots and lots of time. When they are young, they need that physical connection to a mom. This is the 'trust vs. mistrust' stage of development according to Erickson. This is where these kids (and I think parents, too) get to learn how to be in this world. Erickson says that you have to satisfy this stage, or you struggle with trust for the rest of your life.
So, my years of toting, nursing, snuggling, responding, letting the housework go, was worth the trouble. I missed out on a lot of things. I even lost friends who didn't have the same values. I decided that was OK with me. I didn't miss out on anything of value. I put my time in.
So, I find myself satisfied with this parenting role I have. I see what kind of woman my oldest is becoming. She is spending this week working on a house with the church. She wanted to serve others. I even tried to talk her out of it, but she wanted to go. I like to think that time I put into her formative years is paying off a little bit. She knew she was a valued part of this family, and we wouldn't have left her behind. So, we toted her along, even if it meant missing out.
Most importantly, when I passed over that carrier, I realized something very important. I didn't think twice about taking some time away for me. I'm important, too. My kids and husband value me. That is very satisfying.
As I grabbed my hat, I had a sense of the end of an era. My youngest turned 4 years old this week. We have had young children in the house since 1997. Most of our life has been very family centered since then. I've toted babies all over this country. Steve even got very good at carrying the kids.
What surprised me about my acknowledgement of this ending is my feeling of sincere satisfaction. I have put in time with my kids, lots and lots of time. When they are young, they need that physical connection to a mom. This is the 'trust vs. mistrust' stage of development according to Erickson. This is where these kids (and I think parents, too) get to learn how to be in this world. Erickson says that you have to satisfy this stage, or you struggle with trust for the rest of your life.
So, my years of toting, nursing, snuggling, responding, letting the housework go, was worth the trouble. I missed out on a lot of things. I even lost friends who didn't have the same values. I decided that was OK with me. I didn't miss out on anything of value. I put my time in.
So, I find myself satisfied with this parenting role I have. I see what kind of woman my oldest is becoming. She is spending this week working on a house with the church. She wanted to serve others. I even tried to talk her out of it, but she wanted to go. I like to think that time I put into her formative years is paying off a little bit. She knew she was a valued part of this family, and we wouldn't have left her behind. So, we toted her along, even if it meant missing out.
Most importantly, when I passed over that carrier, I realized something very important. I didn't think twice about taking some time away for me. I'm important, too. My kids and husband value me. That is very satisfying.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Symptoms
I had a co-worker one time who had recurrent ear infections. She was on her third or fourth round of antibiotics and was frustrated that she couldn't get well. She asked me if I had any ideas. Yeah, quit smoking. She looked at me with a strange look and said that she doesn't see how it is related. She did not want to look at the real problem. She just wanted to fix the symptoms. I went on to talk about respiratory tract infections. Besides, I told her, every time you suck on the cigarette it is messing with your ear pressure. That is why you are having so many problems.
As long as I knew her, she smoked. She also continued to complain about ear infections, not having enough money and all sorts of things. All of these 'symptoms' would have gone away with fixing the problem. This is very true in health care as a whole. Most people will go on medications to treat symptoms instead of loosing weight, dieting, exercising. While the medications help manage symptoms, the body ends up growing weaker.
I the same things hold true in families and other systems. When I see children struggling with something, I can see where it can simply be a symptom of a bigger dynamic. One time, I watched one of my children struggling with nervous ticks. My very strong initial reaction was to try to 'fix' the child. That was, by far, the easiest and quickest way to dispense of the symptom. However, I realized that there were other factors at play. I made some parenting adjustments and worked on myself. In turn, many of these symptoms began to disappear and our house became less anxiety ridden.
Children are like our ears or throat. They are the first ones to show symptoms of a problem. In most cases, we simply try to start fixing them. I tried homeschooling, spanking, yelling, crying, changing bedrooms, taking away TV, giving things, etc. It might have managed a symptom for a little bit, but the disease would just cause a different problem. I think a lot of times, this ends up leaving one of the parents as a martyr. That is not pretty.
So, this is the main part of my journey in life. I have worked on getting my own house in order. My own Spiritual House. This has been far more grueling than trying to fix everyone else's house. Trust me, I'd rather fix yours.
As long as I knew her, she smoked. She also continued to complain about ear infections, not having enough money and all sorts of things. All of these 'symptoms' would have gone away with fixing the problem. This is very true in health care as a whole. Most people will go on medications to treat symptoms instead of loosing weight, dieting, exercising. While the medications help manage symptoms, the body ends up growing weaker.
I the same things hold true in families and other systems. When I see children struggling with something, I can see where it can simply be a symptom of a bigger dynamic. One time, I watched one of my children struggling with nervous ticks. My very strong initial reaction was to try to 'fix' the child. That was, by far, the easiest and quickest way to dispense of the symptom. However, I realized that there were other factors at play. I made some parenting adjustments and worked on myself. In turn, many of these symptoms began to disappear and our house became less anxiety ridden.
Children are like our ears or throat. They are the first ones to show symptoms of a problem. In most cases, we simply try to start fixing them. I tried homeschooling, spanking, yelling, crying, changing bedrooms, taking away TV, giving things, etc. It might have managed a symptom for a little bit, but the disease would just cause a different problem. I think a lot of times, this ends up leaving one of the parents as a martyr. That is not pretty.
So, this is the main part of my journey in life. I have worked on getting my own house in order. My own Spiritual House. This has been far more grueling than trying to fix everyone else's house. Trust me, I'd rather fix yours.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
My first speech!
This is a copy of the speech I gave at toastmasters today. It went fairly well. During my evaluation, my evaluator asked me if I became short of breath. I laughed and said yes, I don't think I breathed much during the speech. Of course, I went too fast. Overall, I loved it and look forward to more!
Good afternoon fellow toastmasters. I am here today to introduce myself to you and give you information about my background, interests and ambitions. I have decided the title of this speech is a “Simple Life”. During my visits to this group, I have had the privilege of hearing many of your icebreaker speeches. I am thankful for this opportunity and look forward to what the future holds.
To begin telling my story, I’ll start at the beginning and work my way to the present. I come from a large family with many cousins, great-aunts and uncles. My family’s roots here in SC go back to the revolutionary war. My great-uncle still lives on land-granted property in Newberry County. I was raised in the 1970’s as our country scrambled to recover from a War. Much of my childhood was directly affected by my father’s experience in Vietnam.
My experience in school was typical. I was a good student and a pretty good athlete. I would become captain of high school basketball team. I even met this particular guy my junior year. At our first date, I had a feeling we would be spending the rest of our lives together.. After graduating from Lexington High School, I went off to Clemson University. The basketball coach there offered me a walk-on position. At the time, I was really struggling to adjust to college life, and my grades were horrible. There are times I wish I had taken that opportunity to become a college basketball player.
My major was psychology; I spent the majority of 4 years trying to figure out everyone and everything. I also became involved with a local rescue squad running ambulance calls. After college, I married and went to work here in Richland County as a paramedic. I worked nights in downtown Columbia during a period where this was the highest, per capita, violent crime city in the country.
After about 3 years of marriage, my husband I brought our first born into this world. Life as I had known it changed that day. This experience of childbirth and breastfeeding would go on to become a deep passion of mine.
Later, I went to school with 2 small children. I look back and wonder how I managed to make it through. With help from my mother and family, I became a registered nurse. It was a very proud day for me, mixed with sadness in the loss of my grandmother the very same week. I had cared for her in the years before her death and I count those years as very formative in my life. I grew up learning from all 4 of my grandparents. I am very lucky to have heard firsthand accounts of wars, the great depression and life in a different era.
After nursing school, I went to work on an ob/gyn floor. After about a year, I had my third child. I quit working and became involved in my first political action committee. We were working towards legislation to protect a mother’s right to nurse her baby in public. These were my first experiences with public speaking, and it was excruciating for me.
Without much experience as a nurse, and needing more income, my next job came in an Emergency Department. This was a great place for me to use my skills I had obtained as a paramedic and learn to define myself as a nurse. I also managed to have another baby while working there. If you are counting, that is 4 children.
After 5 years in the Emergency department, I moved to my current job. My husband lost his job, and we spent the summer racing to figure out who was going to be the primary breadwinner. I won that race and am happy to be challenged with a new sort of role. I am a patient educator for mothers and babies. After years of working in emergency medicine, I finally have the opportunity and confidence to sit and simply talk with my patients. I also have the time to develop speaking and leadership skills.
Most of what I have learned in my life is self-taught. I read all of the time. My favorite hobby is making pottery. I haven’t spent much time playing with clay lately, but I did buy a used kiln last year. My first kiln was broken in our latest move. I have also learned how to cook pretty well. My kids most often requests involve homemade pizza or some kind of pasta. I actually designed our new house around an open kitchen so that my kids could participate. My 3 and 6 year olds help me feed dough into the pasta maker; my 15 year old has even won an award for her brownies.
Even with a full time job, 4 kids and a small farm, I still take time away for me. I attend retreats at an Episcopal Convent in Augusta Georgia. I’ve made great friends there, and I look forward to that time of rest and renewal.
As far as ambitions, I hope to become a better speaker. I’d like to use my skills and passion to help mothers and babies. I might go back to school one day and work on a Master’s Degree. Who knows, I might even write a book.
Overall, my life is pretty simple. I live in the country on 16 acres of land. I am still happily married to that guy I in high school. We have 4 amazing children and wonderful friends. For me, these are the most important things in this “simple life” of mine.
Thank you.
Good afternoon fellow toastmasters. I am here today to introduce myself to you and give you information about my background, interests and ambitions. I have decided the title of this speech is a “Simple Life”. During my visits to this group, I have had the privilege of hearing many of your icebreaker speeches. I am thankful for this opportunity and look forward to what the future holds.
To begin telling my story, I’ll start at the beginning and work my way to the present. I come from a large family with many cousins, great-aunts and uncles. My family’s roots here in SC go back to the revolutionary war. My great-uncle still lives on land-granted property in Newberry County. I was raised in the 1970’s as our country scrambled to recover from a War. Much of my childhood was directly affected by my father’s experience in Vietnam.
My experience in school was typical. I was a good student and a pretty good athlete. I would become captain of high school basketball team. I even met this particular guy my junior year. At our first date, I had a feeling we would be spending the rest of our lives together.. After graduating from Lexington High School, I went off to Clemson University. The basketball coach there offered me a walk-on position. At the time, I was really struggling to adjust to college life, and my grades were horrible. There are times I wish I had taken that opportunity to become a college basketball player.
My major was psychology; I spent the majority of 4 years trying to figure out everyone and everything. I also became involved with a local rescue squad running ambulance calls. After college, I married and went to work here in Richland County as a paramedic. I worked nights in downtown Columbia during a period where this was the highest, per capita, violent crime city in the country.
After about 3 years of marriage, my husband I brought our first born into this world. Life as I had known it changed that day. This experience of childbirth and breastfeeding would go on to become a deep passion of mine.
Later, I went to school with 2 small children. I look back and wonder how I managed to make it through. With help from my mother and family, I became a registered nurse. It was a very proud day for me, mixed with sadness in the loss of my grandmother the very same week. I had cared for her in the years before her death and I count those years as very formative in my life. I grew up learning from all 4 of my grandparents. I am very lucky to have heard firsthand accounts of wars, the great depression and life in a different era.
After nursing school, I went to work on an ob/gyn floor. After about a year, I had my third child. I quit working and became involved in my first political action committee. We were working towards legislation to protect a mother’s right to nurse her baby in public. These were my first experiences with public speaking, and it was excruciating for me.
Without much experience as a nurse, and needing more income, my next job came in an Emergency Department. This was a great place for me to use my skills I had obtained as a paramedic and learn to define myself as a nurse. I also managed to have another baby while working there. If you are counting, that is 4 children.
After 5 years in the Emergency department, I moved to my current job. My husband lost his job, and we spent the summer racing to figure out who was going to be the primary breadwinner. I won that race and am happy to be challenged with a new sort of role. I am a patient educator for mothers and babies. After years of working in emergency medicine, I finally have the opportunity and confidence to sit and simply talk with my patients. I also have the time to develop speaking and leadership skills.
Most of what I have learned in my life is self-taught. I read all of the time. My favorite hobby is making pottery. I haven’t spent much time playing with clay lately, but I did buy a used kiln last year. My first kiln was broken in our latest move. I have also learned how to cook pretty well. My kids most often requests involve homemade pizza or some kind of pasta. I actually designed our new house around an open kitchen so that my kids could participate. My 3 and 6 year olds help me feed dough into the pasta maker; my 15 year old has even won an award for her brownies.
Even with a full time job, 4 kids and a small farm, I still take time away for me. I attend retreats at an Episcopal Convent in Augusta Georgia. I’ve made great friends there, and I look forward to that time of rest and renewal.
As far as ambitions, I hope to become a better speaker. I’d like to use my skills and passion to help mothers and babies. I might go back to school one day and work on a Master’s Degree. Who knows, I might even write a book.
Overall, my life is pretty simple. I live in the country on 16 acres of land. I am still happily married to that guy I in high school. We have 4 amazing children and wonderful friends. For me, these are the most important things in this “simple life” of mine.
Thank you.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Appreciation
I took my oldest child into our old neighborhood this week. We went to visit a neighbor and her granddaughter. She wasn't there, so we drove around and looked at our old house. I told her that I have a hard time fully appreciating something until it is gone. She responded with "Well, isn't that normal? Everyone does that."
First, I will say that I love it when someone affirms feelings without judgement. My daughter has had this ability since I can remember. Second, I am very sure that she is right. It seems to be very hard to be able to appreciated something fully until we contrast it with it being gone. That contrast seems to be a place where we really get to appreciate something.
That contrast can come in a different direction. Sometimes, we go without something. When we get it for the first time, or after a long time, we appreciate it greatly. Most importantly, we learn not to take it for granted. I think that is probably why we have one of the greatest dogs in the world. We found him through a rescue shelter. He had been found with wounds and feces all over him where he had been kept in a small cage. The woman who found him, cleaned him up, fed him, and got him ready for a loving family. This is where Buddy came into our life, and he is a great dog. He seems to appreciate everything, and always does as we ask him.
I feel this is important in human relationships also. We should try to appreciate each other as best we can. I doubt we can fully appreciate each other until one is gone. After watching a few friends move away, I appreciate them more now. When we get together, our time becomes very precious. Also, I've come to value relationships where I am appreciated. I don't take these friendships for granted any more. You never know when life will change things. You tend to loose the things in life that you take for granted.
First, I will say that I love it when someone affirms feelings without judgement. My daughter has had this ability since I can remember. Second, I am very sure that she is right. It seems to be very hard to be able to appreciated something fully until we contrast it with it being gone. That contrast seems to be a place where we really get to appreciate something.
That contrast can come in a different direction. Sometimes, we go without something. When we get it for the first time, or after a long time, we appreciate it greatly. Most importantly, we learn not to take it for granted. I think that is probably why we have one of the greatest dogs in the world. We found him through a rescue shelter. He had been found with wounds and feces all over him where he had been kept in a small cage. The woman who found him, cleaned him up, fed him, and got him ready for a loving family. This is where Buddy came into our life, and he is a great dog. He seems to appreciate everything, and always does as we ask him.
I feel this is important in human relationships also. We should try to appreciate each other as best we can. I doubt we can fully appreciate each other until one is gone. After watching a few friends move away, I appreciate them more now. When we get together, our time becomes very precious. Also, I've come to value relationships where I am appreciated. I don't take these friendships for granted any more. You never know when life will change things. You tend to loose the things in life that you take for granted.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Ministry of Presence
I have been thinking a great deal about my maternal grandmother lately. I think that the retreat last weekend about care taking has this in the front of my mind. Oh, how I miss her. There are so many things I want to say about her and our relationship. I think that I avoid it because it still hurts too much. So, I will start with a story surrounding her death. Even in her dying, I learned so much.
I was in my last day of nursing clinicals when one of the sitters called me and told me I needed to come be with my grandmother. She used the words 'death rattle'. I told my instructor I was leaving and got in the car. My mom was out of town, so it was up to me to take care of things. When I arrived, I opened the Book of Common Prayer and said prayers. This was very comforting to me, but I needed someone else to help. I called someone and asked her to send the Priest to our house. Shortly after that, she showed up in a tee shirt and jeans. What happened next stunned me and changed my life forever.
This Priest didn't come in the house to *do* anything. She simply sat with me. She sat with me for hours watching my grandmother struggle within her failing body. We talked, laughed and cried. There were no big rituals, no fancy prayers. We were simply present with each other, and my grandmother. It was beautiful, and intimate. It was simply a ministry of Presence.
I am finding, as I am growing in my journey, that I seemed to be called to give my own ministry of Presence. One time, I sat with a mother whose baby had died. We spent several hours talking and crying. Every bit of my body wanted to be *doing* something. Yet, I just sat, trying to be present with her grief. Recently, I sat for awhile with a friend who had lost her mother. We spent a long time just talking.
This is a different sort of way to be in the world. It means that you are *with* someone. There are no roles, no one is better or elevated. It means offering your best self to whatever the situation calls for. I continue to struggle at times with this, wanting to fix something. I try to say all of the right things, I try to end the suffering.
So the *work* of this ministry is preparing yourself. It is preparing yourself in a way that leaves baggage, hard feelings, agendas and roles behind. It is inviting your vulnerable place to sit down with another person's vulnerable place. I am very grateful for this gift given to me at my grandmother's bedside.
I was in my last day of nursing clinicals when one of the sitters called me and told me I needed to come be with my grandmother. She used the words 'death rattle'. I told my instructor I was leaving and got in the car. My mom was out of town, so it was up to me to take care of things. When I arrived, I opened the Book of Common Prayer and said prayers. This was very comforting to me, but I needed someone else to help. I called someone and asked her to send the Priest to our house. Shortly after that, she showed up in a tee shirt and jeans. What happened next stunned me and changed my life forever.
This Priest didn't come in the house to *do* anything. She simply sat with me. She sat with me for hours watching my grandmother struggle within her failing body. We talked, laughed and cried. There were no big rituals, no fancy prayers. We were simply present with each other, and my grandmother. It was beautiful, and intimate. It was simply a ministry of Presence.
I am finding, as I am growing in my journey, that I seemed to be called to give my own ministry of Presence. One time, I sat with a mother whose baby had died. We spent several hours talking and crying. Every bit of my body wanted to be *doing* something. Yet, I just sat, trying to be present with her grief. Recently, I sat for awhile with a friend who had lost her mother. We spent a long time just talking.
This is a different sort of way to be in the world. It means that you are *with* someone. There are no roles, no one is better or elevated. It means offering your best self to whatever the situation calls for. I continue to struggle at times with this, wanting to fix something. I try to say all of the right things, I try to end the suffering.
So the *work* of this ministry is preparing yourself. It is preparing yourself in a way that leaves baggage, hard feelings, agendas and roles behind. It is inviting your vulnerable place to sit down with another person's vulnerable place. I am very grateful for this gift given to me at my grandmother's bedside.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Recieving
I went to a retreat last weekend. It was about the Healing journey of Caregiving. I signed up for it under the pretense of being a 'professional' caregiver (i.e. Nurse). I was excited to get a little perspective on how to stay sane in this profession. Of course, not soon after the program started, I realized I was there for my own Spiritual Journey.
Many emotions came up this day for me. I plan to write more about them later, after I have read the book. Yet, one of the main lessons I took away was how I tend to recieve things.
It is incredibly hard for me to take a compliment. It is hard for me to recieve love, affection, nurturing. I am quick to recieve criticism, abuse and blame. I can speculate why this is so hard for me, but it doesn't really matter why. This all came to light for me last week when a friend gave me a 'blog award'. I literally shut down after that. I simply didn't know what to do. The hardest part being that she is such an authentic person, I couldn't dismiss the award. I have several people whose authenticity has helped me peel away some of the layers in my life. This 'coping skill' of refusing to recieve care and love needs to go away. We talked a bit about this at the caregiver's workshop. I think this is a common malady for women. It is even more common in the caregiver's circles. We would rather give care than to recieve it.
So, my goal is to try to get better at recieving the good things in life. In a family, or even a friendship, it is essential that things flow both ways. My kids deserve a mom who recieves thier love with vigor. They have so much to give. Heck, I probably even deserve to get it.
Many emotions came up this day for me. I plan to write more about them later, after I have read the book. Yet, one of the main lessons I took away was how I tend to recieve things.
It is incredibly hard for me to take a compliment. It is hard for me to recieve love, affection, nurturing. I am quick to recieve criticism, abuse and blame. I can speculate why this is so hard for me, but it doesn't really matter why. This all came to light for me last week when a friend gave me a 'blog award'. I literally shut down after that. I simply didn't know what to do. The hardest part being that she is such an authentic person, I couldn't dismiss the award. I have several people whose authenticity has helped me peel away some of the layers in my life. This 'coping skill' of refusing to recieve care and love needs to go away. We talked a bit about this at the caregiver's workshop. I think this is a common malady for women. It is even more common in the caregiver's circles. We would rather give care than to recieve it.
So, my goal is to try to get better at recieving the good things in life. In a family, or even a friendship, it is essential that things flow both ways. My kids deserve a mom who recieves thier love with vigor. They have so much to give. Heck, I probably even deserve to get it.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Using my voice
So, I have started on the Toastmaster's journey. My uncle recommended it to me years ago, and I finally have a chance to attend meetings. I met with a mentor today and we started to discuss my first speech. She talked about getting nervous she said something that made so much sense to me.
When we are talking in front of people, we are asking them to trade something they will never get back: their time.
As I pondered this a bit, I started wondering what this means for me. One time, I gave a sermon at church. My talk should have lasted about 12 minutes. I spoke so fast, I ended in less than 5. Few people could understand me. I think that part of my problem was feeling worthy of their time and attention. Part of me still needed convincing that I have something valuable to say. A friend and fellow blogger has the word Voice in the title of her blog. I resonate with this, because I have struggled for so long finding that voice and learning how (and sometimes when) to use it.
For me, writing has become more comfortable than speaking out loud. There is no obligation in reading this blog, you can take it or leave it. Yet, speaking in front of people requires some attention and time from the listener. I hope to be a good steward of that time when I give this speech next month.
The most important sense I took away from our meeting was simple. She said that Toastmasters is a safe place to fail. I am grateful for knowing this. We all fail, we all make mistakes. We should all have these safe places in our lives. I look forward (with great trepidation) to using my out loud voice.
When we are talking in front of people, we are asking them to trade something they will never get back: their time.
As I pondered this a bit, I started wondering what this means for me. One time, I gave a sermon at church. My talk should have lasted about 12 minutes. I spoke so fast, I ended in less than 5. Few people could understand me. I think that part of my problem was feeling worthy of their time and attention. Part of me still needed convincing that I have something valuable to say. A friend and fellow blogger has the word Voice in the title of her blog. I resonate with this, because I have struggled for so long finding that voice and learning how (and sometimes when) to use it.
For me, writing has become more comfortable than speaking out loud. There is no obligation in reading this blog, you can take it or leave it. Yet, speaking in front of people requires some attention and time from the listener. I hope to be a good steward of that time when I give this speech next month.
The most important sense I took away from our meeting was simple. She said that Toastmasters is a safe place to fail. I am grateful for knowing this. We all fail, we all make mistakes. We should all have these safe places in our lives. I look forward (with great trepidation) to using my out loud voice.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Teaching independence
Today, I packed my two oldest kids off to camp for the week. We've come a long way from our first experience with camp several years ago. It got me to thinking.
The first time I sent my child away for a week long camp, I really struggled with it. We would not be allowed any contact with her, and I had never experienced this as a mother. What if she something happened? Is she sad? Is she scared? How will I know that she is ok?
The day after we took her, I went to a mother's meeting. I sat down and as we were introducing ourselves, I mentioned my nervousness about sending a kid to camp. The woman next to me was a former camp director! Coincidence?!?
We ended up in a great conversation where she gave me some of the greatest parenting advice I have ever gotten. "You cannot teach your children to be independent of you. Someone else has to do it." She went on to talk about camp being a safe place where kids really get to experience in finding out how life works without a parent around. Kids get to understand the consequences of their decisions, because they are completely their own. Last year Max learned what happens when you eat an entire bag of skittles. He said his tongue was sore for the entire week.
I honestly think this is one of the biggest mistakes parents make. We try to do everything for our kids and teach them the ways of the world. We want to provide for them, and grow them. Then, we have a hard time letting someone else get the 'credit' for teaching them independence. When children don't get independence from their parents, this causes all sorts of family dynamics. I think that, sometimes, this causes children to rip away from their parents in order to find their own path. This can cause a lot of hard feelings. Often, kids find unhelpful people to teach them things. At least when my kids are young, I can influence who is in their lives.
Since that conversation with a former camp director, I have searched diligently for people to help me raise my kids. We have adopted aunts and formed our own little village of people who are expected to help raise my kids. I have learned that I need all the help I can get, knowing that these kids are only with me a short time in their lives.
The first time I sent my child away for a week long camp, I really struggled with it. We would not be allowed any contact with her, and I had never experienced this as a mother. What if she something happened? Is she sad? Is she scared? How will I know that she is ok?
The day after we took her, I went to a mother's meeting. I sat down and as we were introducing ourselves, I mentioned my nervousness about sending a kid to camp. The woman next to me was a former camp director! Coincidence?!?
We ended up in a great conversation where she gave me some of the greatest parenting advice I have ever gotten. "You cannot teach your children to be independent of you. Someone else has to do it." She went on to talk about camp being a safe place where kids really get to experience in finding out how life works without a parent around. Kids get to understand the consequences of their decisions, because they are completely their own. Last year Max learned what happens when you eat an entire bag of skittles. He said his tongue was sore for the entire week.
I honestly think this is one of the biggest mistakes parents make. We try to do everything for our kids and teach them the ways of the world. We want to provide for them, and grow them. Then, we have a hard time letting someone else get the 'credit' for teaching them independence. When children don't get independence from their parents, this causes all sorts of family dynamics. I think that, sometimes, this causes children to rip away from their parents in order to find their own path. This can cause a lot of hard feelings. Often, kids find unhelpful people to teach them things. At least when my kids are young, I can influence who is in their lives.
Since that conversation with a former camp director, I have searched diligently for people to help me raise my kids. We have adopted aunts and formed our own little village of people who are expected to help raise my kids. I have learned that I need all the help I can get, knowing that these kids are only with me a short time in their lives.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Belonging
I met with a very wise Priest one day under the pretense of my needing to explain some things to him. Fortunately, I quickly recognized my mistake in arrogance. I took out my paper and started taking notes. I still have them somewhere, but I committed much of lessons to heart.
One of the biggest understandings I found during that talk was about belonging. He talked about what happens in community. He said that 3 things should be satisfied to attain authentic community. The first thing to be satisfied is an understanding of belonging. People must know that they belong before you can perform the next task.
In many churches, families and institutions, this task does not get accomplished. I now recognize the true wisdom of the leader that came to try to teach us about Healthy Church. He started off the day repeating, "You belong here, you belong here." I wrote that down on my notebook trying to convince myself that he was right. After 4 years in that church, I had never been given the sense of really belonging or even having a voice. At the institution I work, one of the questions in the employee survey was a simple "Do you believe that you belong here?" This institution seems to understand the importance of this task, and it gives me hope.
What happens when this task of belonging is not satisfied? My companion for that day said that it is simple, the group starts fighting for control. Gatekeepers appear to control who enters and leaves. People argue non-stop about the color of robes, sermons, hymns, rules, policies. They argue about the color of the carpet.
Where does this fight for control lead? If a a dominant force prevails, and restores apparent order people; can move into the next phase. This third phase is intimacy. If the first 2 phases have not been satisfied, this intimacy is referred to as pseudo-intimacy. This is where the concept of pseudo-community comes into play. People are bullied into behaving a certain way, or they can be labeled a scapegoat or even kicked out. I feel this phase of pseudo-intimacy is very dangerous. On the outside everything can appear perfect, but the inside is a very different story.
My lessons on belonging are many. Whenever I lead a meeting, I make a concerted effort at the beginning to have people introduce themselves and make them feel welcome. I want them to have a sincere sense of belonging. I, personally, have become wary of becoming involved in groups where the members don't have a strong sense of belonging. I don't want to get caught up in a fight for control. I see this fight as fruitless because I don't want to be bullied or become a bully.
So having my own sense of belonging with a group of people has taught me what true intimacy is. It is a safe place of being valued and nurtured. I wish everyone would be able to experience this authentic community, knowing they are loved just because they exist.
One of the biggest understandings I found during that talk was about belonging. He talked about what happens in community. He said that 3 things should be satisfied to attain authentic community. The first thing to be satisfied is an understanding of belonging. People must know that they belong before you can perform the next task.
In many churches, families and institutions, this task does not get accomplished. I now recognize the true wisdom of the leader that came to try to teach us about Healthy Church. He started off the day repeating, "You belong here, you belong here." I wrote that down on my notebook trying to convince myself that he was right. After 4 years in that church, I had never been given the sense of really belonging or even having a voice. At the institution I work, one of the questions in the employee survey was a simple "Do you believe that you belong here?" This institution seems to understand the importance of this task, and it gives me hope.
What happens when this task of belonging is not satisfied? My companion for that day said that it is simple, the group starts fighting for control. Gatekeepers appear to control who enters and leaves. People argue non-stop about the color of robes, sermons, hymns, rules, policies. They argue about the color of the carpet.
Where does this fight for control lead? If a a dominant force prevails, and restores apparent order people; can move into the next phase. This third phase is intimacy. If the first 2 phases have not been satisfied, this intimacy is referred to as pseudo-intimacy. This is where the concept of pseudo-community comes into play. People are bullied into behaving a certain way, or they can be labeled a scapegoat or even kicked out. I feel this phase of pseudo-intimacy is very dangerous. On the outside everything can appear perfect, but the inside is a very different story.
My lessons on belonging are many. Whenever I lead a meeting, I make a concerted effort at the beginning to have people introduce themselves and make them feel welcome. I want them to have a sincere sense of belonging. I, personally, have become wary of becoming involved in groups where the members don't have a strong sense of belonging. I don't want to get caught up in a fight for control. I see this fight as fruitless because I don't want to be bullied or become a bully.
So having my own sense of belonging with a group of people has taught me what true intimacy is. It is a safe place of being valued and nurtured. I wish everyone would be able to experience this authentic community, knowing they are loved just because they exist.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Orthodox
So my last post inspired me to talk about another subject near to my heart. A person told me that when you get two ends of the spectrum, sometimes they meet around on the other end. Sometimes, I think this is true of religion.
Just this year, I have worshiped at the following services:
Russian Orthodox Christian
Methodist
Episcopalian
Orthodox Jewish
Non-denominational services
Quaker
I also attended a Sufi retreat learning about Islam. My yoga practice is full of Hindu teachings. When I thought of this list, I wondered if I am confused, or well rounded. I suspect a little bit of both. Well, a lot of both.
I attended the Russian Orthodox service at the invitation of a friend. It was the Feast of the Nativity, their Christmas. I was very excited, and a bit nervous about the service. I've never had to cover my hair before, so I wasn't quite sure how to tie the scarf. My nervousness soon went away as I was swept in to another time and place. It was an beautiful service that lasted 2 hours. People moved around most of the service, and I never got bored. The chanting was beautiful and Communion was offered in sacred and holy way. I had never seen such eloquence in a service. I was touched by the sincerity with which they worshipped. They followed every single rule, not just the ones that they like. Therefore, I was not able to receive Communion. Yet, I was still offered bread and welcomed into their community. After the service, my friend asked me if I was still attending the Episcopal Church. I winced and told her that I had been ex-communicated. She laughed and said that had she been Episcopalian, she would have been ex-communicated too.
I left that service a bit jealous of children raised in an Orthodox home. There has to be comfort in the structure that this provides. I remember reading 'My Name is Asher Lev' in high school. This story follows a Hasid family as the child, Asher, grows into a gifted artist. This was a formative book in my childhood, and even adulthood. I later found out there was a sequel. I won't tell you what happens, because it is a great book. After reading both books, I identified with Asher's struggles with religion and even parenting.
So this is part of my story where two ends of the spectrum met up a bit with me. I have enjoyed being free to worship many different ways. I look forward to finding out where I might go next.
Just this year, I have worshiped at the following services:
Russian Orthodox Christian
Methodist
Episcopalian
Orthodox Jewish
Non-denominational services
Quaker
I also attended a Sufi retreat learning about Islam. My yoga practice is full of Hindu teachings. When I thought of this list, I wondered if I am confused, or well rounded. I suspect a little bit of both. Well, a lot of both.
I attended the Russian Orthodox service at the invitation of a friend. It was the Feast of the Nativity, their Christmas. I was very excited, and a bit nervous about the service. I've never had to cover my hair before, so I wasn't quite sure how to tie the scarf. My nervousness soon went away as I was swept in to another time and place. It was an beautiful service that lasted 2 hours. People moved around most of the service, and I never got bored. The chanting was beautiful and Communion was offered in sacred and holy way. I had never seen such eloquence in a service. I was touched by the sincerity with which they worshipped. They followed every single rule, not just the ones that they like. Therefore, I was not able to receive Communion. Yet, I was still offered bread and welcomed into their community. After the service, my friend asked me if I was still attending the Episcopal Church. I winced and told her that I had been ex-communicated. She laughed and said that had she been Episcopalian, she would have been ex-communicated too.
I left that service a bit jealous of children raised in an Orthodox home. There has to be comfort in the structure that this provides. I remember reading 'My Name is Asher Lev' in high school. This story follows a Hasid family as the child, Asher, grows into a gifted artist. This was a formative book in my childhood, and even adulthood. I later found out there was a sequel. I won't tell you what happens, because it is a great book. After reading both books, I identified with Asher's struggles with religion and even parenting.
So this is part of my story where two ends of the spectrum met up a bit with me. I have enjoyed being free to worship many different ways. I look forward to finding out where I might go next.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Direct and unmediated
Some friends of mine sent me a facebook invitation to the opening of the first Quaker Meeting house in South Carolina in over 150 years. At the last minute, I gathered my two youngest kids and took off to the other side of Columbia. I enjoy learning about worshipping in different ways. I really had no idea how different this would be.
The bulletin talked about the founder, some guy name Fox. He had anticipated problems with the Anglican church and worked to found the Quaker movement. I had to laugh because of my own experiences. During the introduction to the Quaker style of worship, the speaker talked about a 'direct and unmediated' experience of God. I was stunned by this bold statement, and most intrigued.
I grew up in traditional churches. These churches are dependent on members of the clergy to mediate the congregants experience of God. One must be ordained in order to bestow and official blessing, Baptize, bury the dead. You also must be ordained to read the Gospel in a service. I had always thought along these same lines when, one day, I made an acquaintance with a different sort of Priest. I was trying to defer to him about something holy because he had a clerical collar. He actually ROLLED HIS EYES and said "It was either go to jail, or go to the seminary!" I laughed so hard, realizing how ridiculous these relationships between the ordained and laity can become. It was after that meeting that I became much more confident about my own experiences with the Divine. Some how, I think this greatly threatens some clergy who hold on very tight to their role as go-between with God.
So, there I sat in this very plain looking church, with every day plain folks. The pews were made into a square circle in order to have people facing themselves, not an altar. There was not big fancy procession, no order of worship. We simply sat in community waiting for someone feeling the Call to talk and share a message. It was exquisite.
After the service, there was good food and even better conversation. People talked about local and national politics. It was quite relaxed and friendly. There was no talk about church politics, vestries or elections. No one was complaining about the hymns, sermon or money. There was no fighting for control because every one belonged and had a valued voice.
Last Sunday, I met some of the smartest, most thoughtful people on the planet. I spent a little time in a world where my relationship with God is direct and unmediated. I'm pretty sure I'll go back.
The bulletin talked about the founder, some guy name Fox. He had anticipated problems with the Anglican church and worked to found the Quaker movement. I had to laugh because of my own experiences. During the introduction to the Quaker style of worship, the speaker talked about a 'direct and unmediated' experience of God. I was stunned by this bold statement, and most intrigued.
I grew up in traditional churches. These churches are dependent on members of the clergy to mediate the congregants experience of God. One must be ordained in order to bestow and official blessing, Baptize, bury the dead. You also must be ordained to read the Gospel in a service. I had always thought along these same lines when, one day, I made an acquaintance with a different sort of Priest. I was trying to defer to him about something holy because he had a clerical collar. He actually ROLLED HIS EYES and said "It was either go to jail, or go to the seminary!" I laughed so hard, realizing how ridiculous these relationships between the ordained and laity can become. It was after that meeting that I became much more confident about my own experiences with the Divine. Some how, I think this greatly threatens some clergy who hold on very tight to their role as go-between with God.
So, there I sat in this very plain looking church, with every day plain folks. The pews were made into a square circle in order to have people facing themselves, not an altar. There was not big fancy procession, no order of worship. We simply sat in community waiting for someone feeling the Call to talk and share a message. It was exquisite.
After the service, there was good food and even better conversation. People talked about local and national politics. It was quite relaxed and friendly. There was no talk about church politics, vestries or elections. No one was complaining about the hymns, sermon or money. There was no fighting for control because every one belonged and had a valued voice.
Last Sunday, I met some of the smartest, most thoughtful people on the planet. I spent a little time in a world where my relationship with God is direct and unmediated. I'm pretty sure I'll go back.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Feelings
I pondered a bit about the 'darkness' of my last post. I felt the need to acknowledge this part of my life, simply because others have the same parts. In fact, I think we all do, we just may not acknowledge it. I spent some time learning about shadow. It is the Jungian concept of the unconscious. A very wise man once told me that only 10 % of our shadow is dark. The rest is golden. We tend to avoid the 90% due to fear of the dark parts.
My experience with grieving has been complicated at times. One of the speakers at the conference last week was talking about medications. She said that a person experience a great loss cannot cover those feelings with medicine. She said 'they need to feel what they are feeling.'
I will admit that it is easier, at the time, to avoid feelings. Who wants to feel sad, mad, despondent? I sure didn't, and I have spent time running away from it. I now realize that running from those feelings also causes loosing out on extreme joy, happiness and satisfaction.
There are times in my life where my heart bursts with happiness. I catch myself wondering if I am really in Heaven. I understand the saying that your greatest joy is simply your greatest pain unmasked.
I still am amazed at how the universe seems to work. I don't understand how feelings work. I am just a long for a wild and crazy ride.
My experience with grieving has been complicated at times. One of the speakers at the conference last week was talking about medications. She said that a person experience a great loss cannot cover those feelings with medicine. She said 'they need to feel what they are feeling.'
I will admit that it is easier, at the time, to avoid feelings. Who wants to feel sad, mad, despondent? I sure didn't, and I have spent time running away from it. I now realize that running from those feelings also causes loosing out on extreme joy, happiness and satisfaction.
There are times in my life where my heart bursts with happiness. I catch myself wondering if I am really in Heaven. I understand the saying that your greatest joy is simply your greatest pain unmasked.
I still am amazed at how the universe seems to work. I don't understand how feelings work. I am just a long for a wild and crazy ride.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
The Pit
I am counted among those who go down to the Pit; I have become like one who has no strength
This week I attended a perinatal bereavement conference. I was asked by someone at my job if I wanted to attend. I routinely deal with women and families dealing with losses, and I felt it would help me in my job. I like education which helps me be a better nurse. As I sat in this conference, and started hearing stories, I started dredging up my own experiences with pregnancy and loss. I lost my first pregnancy early. It was a very welcome and long desired baby. I had just enough time to tell everyone I knew that we were going to be parents, and start adjusting to our new life. When the bleeding started, a hole opened up that I didn't know existed.
"It was a woman's trial. Something no man could fully understand. After moons of speaking to the child, feeling it move inside you, seeing it grow up in your dreams, a powerful love, like no other developed. The shock of loosing that child, of suddenly realizing you would never look into its living eyes- it stunned the soul." p. 126 of People of the Silence by Gear and Gear.
One of the last speakers used the image of open-pit mines to show us what this grief felt like to people. He used it to explain why most people back away from this grief. It is like standing at the edge of one of these mines, disoriented and afraid. People usually back away from it and say things to soothe their own great anxiety. As he was saying these things, so much of my experiences made complete sense.
After my miscarriage, people either avoided me, and said stupid things like "It was meant to be", "At least you can have more children" and many other things. Their words were meant to be comforting and helpful, but they weren't. They meant for these words to fill in a hole, but this hole was bigger than a city. Afraid of this hole, they move away from it.
Of course, there were others. A co-worker of my husband sent us flowers. Some people sent us cards. I think the nicest thing anyone did for me was a simple hug. I was at work, avoiding people, looking at a bulletin board. He walked up beside me, put his arm around me and simply said. "I've been thinking of you."
Although my pit has been a large sorrowful part of my life. I can certainly say, now, that I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have been blessed to see my own experience of this hole as a connection with other women. I have managed to stand on the brim along side others as they try to make sense of this feeling. I have had several conversations with women as I try to remember that Psalm that talks about the Pit. I tell them to read it, knowing that the Psalmist tried his best to articulate what that sort of grief is. I think that my experience gives me the gift of being fully present, as others have been present for me. It is truly a privilege to spend this sort of time with others. I feel sorrow for those who spend their time backing away. I understand that the depth of pain, can also be matched by joy.
So, this is how my life seems to work. The universe put me in a place to help me. I went to this conference under the pretense of helping others. I, now, see that it was in a very profound way, it was simply to help myself. If there weren't enough coincidences in this conference; I realized, yesterday, that it happened on the anniversary of that loss 16 years ag. I have been given an incredible gift of healing among incredible people. I hope that I can begin, in some way, to repay this gift.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Am I mom enough?
The front page of Time Magazine last week pictures a mother breastfeeding her 3 year old and the title: "Are you Mom enough?" It has bothered me since it came out, and I have tried to pretend it didn't exist. Now I realize why it bothers me so much. It is a question I often ask myself. A friend called me on mother's day and left me a very nice message, saying something about me being a great mom. Deep down inside, I cringed. I wonder if I really am.
My parenting journey began with so many things to prove. I dove into attachment parenting for many reasons. I, honestly, think it is a great way to parent. I had natural births, breastfeed. I have home schooled, used cloth diapers, co-sleep. I've tried to do all of those 'radical' things that prove that I have devoted myself to being a mother. Been there done that. It never filled that void of wondering if I am enough. Being a mother is a very, very vulnerable thing. It is that soft spot on our underbelly that leaves us open to being hurt. It is the place where we tend to hurt others.
My primary job is now working with new mothers. I try very, very hard to give space to that vulnerability. I once had a new mom who was exasperated and crying saying she didn't realize it would be this hard. I said "Yes, it is very hard. It will break you, and it is OK to let it."
It is my dream that mothers find ways to realize that EVERY SINGLE MOTHER is enough. We are all humans trying our best to do the hardest job on the face of the earth. It is my dream that we give each other the Grace and Compassion that we all deserve. I hope that we quit trying to prove things and concentrate on our raising our kids the best way we know how.
It is my prayer that I will learn all of these lessons for myself.
My parenting journey began with so many things to prove. I dove into attachment parenting for many reasons. I, honestly, think it is a great way to parent. I had natural births, breastfeed. I have home schooled, used cloth diapers, co-sleep. I've tried to do all of those 'radical' things that prove that I have devoted myself to being a mother. Been there done that. It never filled that void of wondering if I am enough. Being a mother is a very, very vulnerable thing. It is that soft spot on our underbelly that leaves us open to being hurt. It is the place where we tend to hurt others.
My primary job is now working with new mothers. I try very, very hard to give space to that vulnerability. I once had a new mom who was exasperated and crying saying she didn't realize it would be this hard. I said "Yes, it is very hard. It will break you, and it is OK to let it."
It is my dream that mothers find ways to realize that EVERY SINGLE MOTHER is enough. We are all humans trying our best to do the hardest job on the face of the earth. It is my dream that we give each other the Grace and Compassion that we all deserve. I hope that we quit trying to prove things and concentrate on our raising our kids the best way we know how.
It is my prayer that I will learn all of these lessons for myself.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Compassion, part 1
As it usually turns out, I find a few words in a book that strike a real chord with me. Yesterday was no exception.
"All wounds are openings to the sacred," the great holy man, Dune the Derelict, once taught me. "You must crawl inside those chasms. Go alone, on your hands and knees, and sit in that terrible darkness. If you sit long enough, you will discover that the worst pain is the breath of compassion." p. 29. People of the Silence by Kathleen O'Neal Gear and W. Micheal Gear.
It was a paperback I picked up at the used book store so that I could read while in the pool. It is about the Anasazi of the Midwest, and I find it fascinating.
So, as I have written this blog, I have shared some of my wounds. Several of those wounds happening within a church. Last year, my family started visiting a local Methodist church when my oldest daughter was invited to sing with a Praise Team. I had a very difficult adjustment to make from a 'high church' mentality to a contemporary service complete with power point and recorded music. One night at the youth 'jam', I started wandering the halls and found a bible study. I was made welcome, so I decided to stay. As we started a section about the place of church in people's lives, I started sobbing. I told these new friends of my hurts from church and declared I would never join another church. Not only did they not judge me, one of them even shared his own similar story. Later that night, I would skype with my Spiritual Director. I had time to become embarrassed about my meltdown, yet she praised me. She told me that was how I needed to start the healing process.
About 6 months later, my family decided to become official members of this small country congregation. I relented on my refusal to join another church and went up on stage to join in being welcomed into a new community. Several people from that bible study class followed us onto that stage and supported us. I then cried tears of joy, understanding how lucky I am to have been able to sit long enough in that chasm.
Last night, the pastor came up to me and asked me how I was doing with this Transition. It took me several minutes to be able to speak, because my emotions are still very deep. I told him about my mom's cousin telling a group about our family tradition of starting off Episcopalian and ending up Methodist. My grandmother was 92 when she changed churches. I then managed to thank him for asking and that this church had been very good to us. He said it works both ways, we had been good to them. We agreed that it is best when it does work both ways.
That is what compassion means: to suffer with. It means that we are all suffering, and we all need love to flow between us. I understand on a very deep level the pain of the breath of compassion. It is hard to breath it in, finally; knowing that it should have been there all along. Yet, when you do breath it in, you can live.
As I write this, I hear the voices of several teenagers at my house. They are on that Praise Team at church and they sound like angels.
"All wounds are openings to the sacred," the great holy man, Dune the Derelict, once taught me. "You must crawl inside those chasms. Go alone, on your hands and knees, and sit in that terrible darkness. If you sit long enough, you will discover that the worst pain is the breath of compassion." p. 29. People of the Silence by Kathleen O'Neal Gear and W. Micheal Gear.
It was a paperback I picked up at the used book store so that I could read while in the pool. It is about the Anasazi of the Midwest, and I find it fascinating.
So, as I have written this blog, I have shared some of my wounds. Several of those wounds happening within a church. Last year, my family started visiting a local Methodist church when my oldest daughter was invited to sing with a Praise Team. I had a very difficult adjustment to make from a 'high church' mentality to a contemporary service complete with power point and recorded music. One night at the youth 'jam', I started wandering the halls and found a bible study. I was made welcome, so I decided to stay. As we started a section about the place of church in people's lives, I started sobbing. I told these new friends of my hurts from church and declared I would never join another church. Not only did they not judge me, one of them even shared his own similar story. Later that night, I would skype with my Spiritual Director. I had time to become embarrassed about my meltdown, yet she praised me. She told me that was how I needed to start the healing process.
About 6 months later, my family decided to become official members of this small country congregation. I relented on my refusal to join another church and went up on stage to join in being welcomed into a new community. Several people from that bible study class followed us onto that stage and supported us. I then cried tears of joy, understanding how lucky I am to have been able to sit long enough in that chasm.
Last night, the pastor came up to me and asked me how I was doing with this Transition. It took me several minutes to be able to speak, because my emotions are still very deep. I told him about my mom's cousin telling a group about our family tradition of starting off Episcopalian and ending up Methodist. My grandmother was 92 when she changed churches. I then managed to thank him for asking and that this church had been very good to us. He said it works both ways, we had been good to them. We agreed that it is best when it does work both ways.
That is what compassion means: to suffer with. It means that we are all suffering, and we all need love to flow between us. I understand on a very deep level the pain of the breath of compassion. It is hard to breath it in, finally; knowing that it should have been there all along. Yet, when you do breath it in, you can live.
As I write this, I hear the voices of several teenagers at my house. They are on that Praise Team at church and they sound like angels.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Getting away with it
There is something in our culture that seems to train us to accept everything as the same. When I was a paramedic, the only requirements were 'a pulse and a patch'. Excellence in emergency medicine were not recognized. In many ways, nursing is the same way. With a shortage in nursing, you used to be able to get a job anywhere, any time. My first job was offered to me over the phone with a hiring bonus. Later on, I would go to work in an emergency department and learn that there are vast differences in nursing. Even after I gained some experience and confidence, my mentor would remind me that I was pretty good "For a nurse with 1 year of experience." I would later have the privilege of working with a couple of very seasoned nurses, and realize the huge difference in nurses. They would end up leaving because excellence in nursing was, again, not rewarded (or even recognized).
So we go back to the big question: How do they get away with it? Why does mediocrity hold such a prevalent status? I think that it has to do with two things. The first is that we don't make a big effort and discernment. We just take things at face value, and settle. I think that it is a bit of laziness. The second is that we don't want to threaten anyone. If there is one thing that my experiences over the past couple of years. Very, very few people want to be confronted with concerns or issues. I am certainly guilty of that. I went to great lengths to keep people from being able to tell me where I was going wrong. It is far easier to blame someone else when things are not going well. It is excruciating to look at your own part of it.
I think this is the biggest reason people keep getting away with it. We don't love each other enough to tell the truth to each other. Worse than that, we don't trust each other enough to listen. All truth needs to be spoken in love for it to be heard. I have learned this the hard way.
So, now that I know the difference in so many things in my life, I struggle some days. Comparing the way things are to the way that they could be is hard. Understanding what part I play in all things is even harder. We bought 4 more chicks to give us more eggs. Perhaps we can make a little progress one egg at a time.
Monday, April 16, 2012
In the moment
If you ever wanted to get back to the present moment, there is no easier way than spending time with a child. I took 6 year old Carter with me to work last week. I was simply making an appearance and a co-worker offered to let him watch her TV while I did some paperwork. I thought I was doing a nice thing for him, letting him tag along. I soon realized that our trip to work would be wonderful for me.
About half way down a very long hall, Carter announced that he couldn't step on any white floor tiles. This had us hopping around an laughing until we turned the corner to find all white. He looked at them and declared it was alright. These tiles had blue mixed in with the white. Whew! On the way out, Carter announced that he had only 3 lives left. When he started loosing lives, he decided that the blue tiles gave him a life. Whew! At the end of the final hall, he evened everything out and ended up with only one life. Then, of course, he got to push the button on the elevator.
Today, I spent some time with a 3 year old who became very excited about hanging clothes out to dry. She fetched a chair to stand on so she could help. Of course, she wanted a different bag to hold her clothes pins. We then spent about 4 times as long hanging up clothes as it would have normally taken.
Both of these times (among many others) have brought me back to what is really important in this world. In a job where people's health and well being are dependent on me, I can remember not to take myself so seriously. I, now, walk up and down the halls avoiding the white squares. If I see wrinkles in the clothes, I can know that beautiful little hands helped hang them up. She did it with such care and pride.
Life is so full of stuff. Some days, I feel inundated with all of the bad stuff going around. Some days, I even spend a little time feeling sorry for myself. I am beginning to come to terms with how much of my time is wasted on all of the bad side of things. I have been challenged by someone to start focusing on the bright side. A few more days hanging out with the amazing kids might just be the ticket! Plus, I get to have some adult fun tonight going to a concert. I'm about to get my dance on. Watch out!
About half way down a very long hall, Carter announced that he couldn't step on any white floor tiles. This had us hopping around an laughing until we turned the corner to find all white. He looked at them and declared it was alright. These tiles had blue mixed in with the white. Whew! On the way out, Carter announced that he had only 3 lives left. When he started loosing lives, he decided that the blue tiles gave him a life. Whew! At the end of the final hall, he evened everything out and ended up with only one life. Then, of course, he got to push the button on the elevator.
Today, I spent some time with a 3 year old who became very excited about hanging clothes out to dry. She fetched a chair to stand on so she could help. Of course, she wanted a different bag to hold her clothes pins. We then spent about 4 times as long hanging up clothes as it would have normally taken.
Both of these times (among many others) have brought me back to what is really important in this world. In a job where people's health and well being are dependent on me, I can remember not to take myself so seriously. I, now, walk up and down the halls avoiding the white squares. If I see wrinkles in the clothes, I can know that beautiful little hands helped hang them up. She did it with such care and pride.
Life is so full of stuff. Some days, I feel inundated with all of the bad stuff going around. Some days, I even spend a little time feeling sorry for myself. I am beginning to come to terms with how much of my time is wasted on all of the bad side of things. I have been challenged by someone to start focusing on the bright side. A few more days hanging out with the amazing kids might just be the ticket! Plus, I get to have some adult fun tonight going to a concert. I'm about to get my dance on. Watch out!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Giving Up
Over the years, I have given up different things for Lent. My children have also joined in giving up. One year, my oldest child and her best friend gave up pickles. They approached it very seriously, and reverently, as far as 5 year olds can.
I sat in church today and heard a sermon about Jesus giving up his family. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a very respected clergy member. He had forgotten something, and I had gotten upset. I apologized explaining that I was very sensitive to anyone representing the very church that had hurt me so much. I then went on to explain that I had been kicked out of church. He listened patiently, and then responded in a way that shook me out of my misery. “I was kicked out of my first church also” I choked back tears as I realized that I was speaking with someone who understood my story because we shared it. I managed to thank him, “There are very few people who understood what you give up in order to speak Truth.”
So, I sat in a new church this morning pondering what I had left to give up. My answer came to me so clearly that I felt it in the pit of my stomach. It has been a year since I went to the post office to sign for a letter from my home church. It was a letter threatening to have me arrested if I were found on the premises. It was a letter that changed my life forever. It was tangible evidence of what I had been willing to give up. Over the past year, I have fought with myself over reconciliation. I kept the hope of past friends remembering promises during Holy Baptism. I had hoped that I could forgive and be forgiven. I had hoped that somehow, some way, we could remember that we are all part of the Body.
So, this morning, my answer came to me. I realized that I had to give up hope of earthly reconciliation. This is God’s territory, and I need to give it back to the Holy One. This morning, I watched my precocious 3 year old follow her big sister up to the stage to sing a praise song at the end of the service. I realized, at once, how welcomed and valued my children were at this simple country church. I looked at my decision to give up hope, and I decided it was a good thing.
I sat in church today and heard a sermon about Jesus giving up his family. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a very respected clergy member. He had forgotten something, and I had gotten upset. I apologized explaining that I was very sensitive to anyone representing the very church that had hurt me so much. I then went on to explain that I had been kicked out of church. He listened patiently, and then responded in a way that shook me out of my misery. “I was kicked out of my first church also” I choked back tears as I realized that I was speaking with someone who understood my story because we shared it. I managed to thank him, “There are very few people who understood what you give up in order to speak Truth.”
So, I sat in a new church this morning pondering what I had left to give up. My answer came to me so clearly that I felt it in the pit of my stomach. It has been a year since I went to the post office to sign for a letter from my home church. It was a letter threatening to have me arrested if I were found on the premises. It was a letter that changed my life forever. It was tangible evidence of what I had been willing to give up. Over the past year, I have fought with myself over reconciliation. I kept the hope of past friends remembering promises during Holy Baptism. I had hoped that I could forgive and be forgiven. I had hoped that somehow, some way, we could remember that we are all part of the Body.
So, this morning, my answer came to me. I realized that I had to give up hope of earthly reconciliation. This is God’s territory, and I need to give it back to the Holy One. This morning, I watched my precocious 3 year old follow her big sister up to the stage to sing a praise song at the end of the service. I realized, at once, how welcomed and valued my children were at this simple country church. I looked at my decision to give up hope, and I decided it was a good thing.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Ashes
Ash Wednesday has always been a very important observance for me. Since I was working yesterday, I went for a quick smudging at the chapel in the hospital. I then went on to have the very best imaginable Ash Wednesday ever.
Whenever I get to be in attendance with someone as they give birth, I get to be a part of something much larger than myself. I am humbled by the work and effort of a mother. I am entranced with the hands of a gifted midwife as she holds them in a loving way to catch a baby as he makes his way into this world. I fall in love with a new creature as he opens his eyes, realizing that things are a little bit different now. Birth is hard, it is messy. Sometimes, it even smells bad. Although surrounded by love and support, the mother is the only one who can do the work of birthing a baby.
So, yesterday, I remained busy holding things, handing things and fetching things. Yet, my main purpose was simply to hold sacred space, giving the mother and baby room to do whatever they needed to do.
It was a perfect way of remembering who I really am in this world.
Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the
earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our
mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is
only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life;
through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen. Book of Common Prayer
Whenever I get to be in attendance with someone as they give birth, I get to be a part of something much larger than myself. I am humbled by the work and effort of a mother. I am entranced with the hands of a gifted midwife as she holds them in a loving way to catch a baby as he makes his way into this world. I fall in love with a new creature as he opens his eyes, realizing that things are a little bit different now. Birth is hard, it is messy. Sometimes, it even smells bad. Although surrounded by love and support, the mother is the only one who can do the work of birthing a baby.
So, yesterday, I remained busy holding things, handing things and fetching things. Yet, my main purpose was simply to hold sacred space, giving the mother and baby room to do whatever they needed to do.
It was a perfect way of remembering who I really am in this world.
Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the
earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our
mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is
only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life;
through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen. Book of Common Prayer
Friday, February 10, 2012
Retreating
I am a mother of 4 children. I work full time. We live in the country with chickens, goats and animals. We try to have a garden every year. I want to raise more chickens this year. Our children are very involved in sports, church, plays....
I don't ever really feel like I have time to do the things I really want to do for my family. I spend most of my weekends cooking, baking and cleaning the house. There is the occasional date with my husband (don't forget about him). I have friends having babies. I enjoy spending time with my girl friends. I also try to pick up time at my part-time job in the ER.
I can't remember the last time I finished a book. I am tired.
My tiredness is not physical, I actually feel better than I have in years. My soul has gotten tired. I get pulled in so many different directions, I just don't get to sit still and renew.
I am spending this weekend at a convent where the rhythm of life revolves around the daily offices. Bells ring to tell us to go to chapel to pray or the dining hall to eat. I look forward to renewing long-distance relationships and letting my soul feel safe and nurtured.
In the 15 years I have spent mothering other people, I have learned one very important thing. I have to take care of myself. Sometimes, I have to retreat to a place where I refresh my role as a daughter and sister. I need to receive in order to give to those who depend on me for so much.
I can't wait!
I don't ever really feel like I have time to do the things I really want to do for my family. I spend most of my weekends cooking, baking and cleaning the house. There is the occasional date with my husband (don't forget about him). I have friends having babies. I enjoy spending time with my girl friends. I also try to pick up time at my part-time job in the ER.
I can't remember the last time I finished a book. I am tired.
My tiredness is not physical, I actually feel better than I have in years. My soul has gotten tired. I get pulled in so many different directions, I just don't get to sit still and renew.
I am spending this weekend at a convent where the rhythm of life revolves around the daily offices. Bells ring to tell us to go to chapel to pray or the dining hall to eat. I look forward to renewing long-distance relationships and letting my soul feel safe and nurtured.
In the 15 years I have spent mothering other people, I have learned one very important thing. I have to take care of myself. Sometimes, I have to retreat to a place where I refresh my role as a daughter and sister. I need to receive in order to give to those who depend on me for so much.
I can't wait!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Mentoring
Mentoring has become a real theme for me over the past several years. I listened to a parenting 'expert' talk about relating with children. For the first 2-3 years, the parent's role is a form of ministry. You take full care of your child. Until age 13 or so, your role is to discipline. He referred to this as 'discipleship'. After at 13, the parent's role is mentor.
It was a huge shift for me as I started figuring out how to deal with my almost 13 year old daughter. I also quickly realized that I needed my own mentors.
Being mentored can be difficult. There have been times when I was told things I didn't want to hear. There were times when I wanted it 'my way', and I didn't care what other people thought. I also became aware that, even with a mentor, I was in control of my own decisions. Likewise, I was completely accountable to myself. It was altogether freeing and frightening.
As I have pondered my role in mentoring others, I realize how hard it can be. I had to give up control and let them feel the freedom (and accountability) to making their own decisions. I had to take my needs, my desires and my prejudices out of the equation. I had to make myself available for them.
I watched 'The View' today. All of the co-hosts talked about the mentors in their lives. I recognize the gratitude of knowing that we never, ever really get anywhere in life by ourselves. I was able to Skype with my Spiritual mentor today. I still find it remarkable her generosity with me. I hope, and pray, that I can repay that by helping others.
It was a huge shift for me as I started figuring out how to deal with my almost 13 year old daughter. I also quickly realized that I needed my own mentors.
Being mentored can be difficult. There have been times when I was told things I didn't want to hear. There were times when I wanted it 'my way', and I didn't care what other people thought. I also became aware that, even with a mentor, I was in control of my own decisions. Likewise, I was completely accountable to myself. It was altogether freeing and frightening.
As I have pondered my role in mentoring others, I realize how hard it can be. I had to give up control and let them feel the freedom (and accountability) to making their own decisions. I had to take my needs, my desires and my prejudices out of the equation. I had to make myself available for them.
I watched 'The View' today. All of the co-hosts talked about the mentors in their lives. I recognize the gratitude of knowing that we never, ever really get anywhere in life by ourselves. I was able to Skype with my Spiritual mentor today. I still find it remarkable her generosity with me. I hope, and pray, that I can repay that by helping others.
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