This is the address that I gave at our church on 11/7/2010
The Gospel reading was Luke 6:20-31
For many months now, our church has been in a corporate discernment process. We used the Healthy Church initiative to help us discern the call for this Parish. During that process we came up with the words of the core values and mission statement. Our core values are:
Providing worship experience based in liturgical tradition
Forming Community
And Equipping for ministry.
When I think back on the reasons our family joined St. Alban’s several years ago, I can honestly say that these words described what we were looking for in a church, most especially the part about community. After I had my first child, I found a playgroup to join. We were a bunch of mothers, joined by a common parenting belief. We met once a week at a park and let the kids play while we talked. We soon realized that the real value of the play date was not for the kids, it was a place where we mothers could talk about our struggles raising children. We soon began to wrestle with the some bigger questions of life, including our own identities. We, slowly, over several years, built a very strong, intimate community of women. It was that same sense of community that helped fuel our search for a church community in which our children would be raised. When we first came here, I will admit to you that I was very hesitant about identifying myself as a Christian. I had spent my entire life being hit over the head with doctrines, creeds and statements of judgment. I was struggling to find a true understanding of what it meant to be a Christian. One of the first services I attended here, was the Good Friday Liturgy. I had never attended the Episcopal version of it, I was raised Lutheran and I knew most of the words being used, but the actions were much different. Because I had a baby in my lap, I could not hold a bulletin to read along, so I sat and watched the action at the altar with intense curiosity. I had never experienced a ‘reverencing of the cross,’ so I was quite surprised when Father Maltby walked over, picked up a wooden cross, carried it back to the altar and held it above him. When he turned his face upward in a picture of pure love and adoration, something cracked open inside of me. It was at that moment that I decided there might be something to becoming a follow of Christ.
At the time, it seems like a very simple sort of change. I would later discover that it was just a beginning of a life long journey of discovering who I am as a child of God and a Christian. I decided to dive head first into this Liturgical Tradition. I found the Christian Mystics, Saints and a depth of theology I had not expected. I started finding my spiritual community which was extended to include Nuns, Spiritual Directors, Healers, Brothers and Sisters found in the Baptismal covenant. I found the words of a covenant which challenged ‘Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?’ I decided to accept those words at my confirmation here, knowing that I would fail miserably every single day for the rest of my life, yet knowing that that was no excuse not to try.
During this intense period of change, I also experienced some of the darkest days of my life. Yet, I rested in the knowledge that I could spend every Sunday with people who had also spoken the words of the Baptismal Covenant which asks us ‘Will you continue in the Apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers.’ One Sunday, I was so incredibly angry, that I refused to say any of the Psalm or prayers. Yet, at the time for communion, I overcame my own hurt and went to the rail to receive. After the service, I went to apologize to Mother Humbert, afraid that I had broken some sort of rule. He answer was simple, yet profound. “That’s ok, you community said the prayers for you.” The simple act of going to receive communion became my confession. It was my confession that I cannot give everything to myself. In fact, I would come to understand that nothing I do is truly by myself.
The words we speak are so important, yet it is with words and actions combined that we are able to transform people and communities. Jesus speaks the words of blessing in this passage from Luke. They are beautiful words, yet they are only words until you have experienced them. For in the years that I have been here at this church, I have come here poor, and been blessed by you. I have come hungry and been filled by you. I have wept among you, resting in the expectation that I would also laugh with you. Jesus goes on to tell us that we should expect to be hated, excluded, reviled and defamed on his account. Yet, our reward will be great in heaven. Loving people who don’t want to be loved is his challenge. It is our challenge as his followers. Jesus tells us to bless those who curse us and pray for those who abuse us. I think he knew that when we curse or abuse each other it is because we have forgotten how to love ourselves. He wants us to give them our shirt and our other cheek in these actions which remind us that we are to love one another.
In this spiritual journey of mine, I have managed to find people who did love me when I lashed out. They loved me when I didn‘t. I managed to fall into the hands of healers who helped me accept the healing needed for me to learn how to love myself. I believe that it is the act of truly loving ourselves that we are able to spill that love over to others. Even our enemies.
When we can match our words with our actions, we become Stewards, or agents of God. Being a steward is what you *do* after you *say* yes. In this Healthy Church Initiative, we have given this community words to work with. Now it is our turn as a congregation to give these words skin and bones. It is the call of this church to build the structure to receive each and every offer of a gift. We should receive each person, separate from their roles, vestments, jobs or ministries. We must value each other simply as a children of God bound together in a Baptismal Covenant. We must seek to have each person who enters here to find their own honored place as one who is beloved by our creator. It is through our words and actions, that people get to experience God’s love.
I have experienced the transformative power of healthy community. I stand before you a very different person from the woman who sat down for a Good Friday Liturgy several years ago. I find myself to be far more blessed than I could have possibly imagined. And I am at a loss as to how to convey my gratitude to this Church. I continue my journey hoping to find better ways of loving the people around me, hoping for Grace and mercy when I mess it all up. I will labor in the words of the Baptismal covenant which asks me to ‘proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ’.
And finally, I consider it a privilege to continue in the work of this church as we find the actions needed to meet the words of our mission statement. “In gratitude to God, St. Alban’s resolves to be a welcoming community, learning together and reaching out to other’s with God’s love”.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Layers
I read or heard a famous author talk about his first published book. He said that after writing so many other books, he went back and read his first one. He said that it was just plain awful. Yet, he decided to publish it again to show people something. He said that, like anything in life, we grow and get better at things. He wanted to offer his first book to that concept.
I feel a little bit the same way about this blog. I've gone back and read some of it. I also have come to know that some of what I have said was misunderstood. I've struggled with posting something new for over a month now, not knowing how to resolve this personal struggle. I don't want to be misunderstood. I want people to quit making negative assumptions about me and see me as I grow. In this culture, we are taught to sit back and judge one another. We do it from across the room. We might be willing to write a letter, read a blog or send an email. When did we quit talking *with* each other. Where are the dialogues? Why is it so hard to walk across the room and talk to someone?
I, honestly, think that this is the biggest problem in most churches and families. In order to sit and talk with someone, you must make yourself vulnerable. You must be willing to listen to their side of the story. Most importantly, you are not going to be in control. You might hear something you didn't want to hear. You loose the ability to judge someone from a distance. You might realize that you were wrong about someone. You might realize that people grow and they change.
I think that is my biggest struggle right now. I want people to see me as a growing, learning person. I have learned from my mistakes, and I have paid for them. I want people to make an effort to get to know me, instead of judging me from across the room. Real, authentic, relationships require effort and time.
In the past couple of years, I have shed some pretty big layers. I have let go of a ton of things as I try to grow in this new skin of mine. As I was talking to a trusted friend, I told her that I feel so vulnerable. She told me that I *feel* vulnerable, because I am *being* vulnerable. I don't exactly like this feeling. I feel as if I have been rubbed raw with all that has happened lately. I hope that this is what I am supposed to be doing. I hope that there is some reason for it. I hope that people start seeing me for who I really am, as I try walking around in this new layer.
I feel a little bit the same way about this blog. I've gone back and read some of it. I also have come to know that some of what I have said was misunderstood. I've struggled with posting something new for over a month now, not knowing how to resolve this personal struggle. I don't want to be misunderstood. I want people to quit making negative assumptions about me and see me as I grow. In this culture, we are taught to sit back and judge one another. We do it from across the room. We might be willing to write a letter, read a blog or send an email. When did we quit talking *with* each other. Where are the dialogues? Why is it so hard to walk across the room and talk to someone?
I, honestly, think that this is the biggest problem in most churches and families. In order to sit and talk with someone, you must make yourself vulnerable. You must be willing to listen to their side of the story. Most importantly, you are not going to be in control. You might hear something you didn't want to hear. You loose the ability to judge someone from a distance. You might realize that you were wrong about someone. You might realize that people grow and they change.
I think that is my biggest struggle right now. I want people to see me as a growing, learning person. I have learned from my mistakes, and I have paid for them. I want people to make an effort to get to know me, instead of judging me from across the room. Real, authentic, relationships require effort and time.
In the past couple of years, I have shed some pretty big layers. I have let go of a ton of things as I try to grow in this new skin of mine. As I was talking to a trusted friend, I told her that I feel so vulnerable. She told me that I *feel* vulnerable, because I am *being* vulnerable. I don't exactly like this feeling. I feel as if I have been rubbed raw with all that has happened lately. I hope that this is what I am supposed to be doing. I hope that there is some reason for it. I hope that people start seeing me for who I really am, as I try walking around in this new layer.
Friday, July 30, 2010
I'm human too
Much of my time spent as a new grad nurse was not very rewarding. I fell victim to the 'we eat our young' philosophy of nursing. One particular experience left me with memories I have tried to forget.
I was hired on as a postpartum/antepartum nurse. As part of my orientation, I spent 2 shifts on the labor and delivery unit. This L&D unit was a group of women hardened by working with the most critical patients in the area. They were asked to do impossible tasks, and not appreciated or paid well for their efforts. On top of that was an ongoing dislike and distrust for postpartum nurses.
I went with my preceptor into a delivery of a fetus. They had tried everything to stop the labor, but the baby was coming. I had overheard the discussion between the nurses and the resident over resuscitation of the baby. After determining that the baby was not viable, they informed the mom that the baby was not going to survive. She started sobbing and became hysterical. Unfortunately, she was a young mother with no one there to support her. The nurses were trying to explain things, the doctor was fretting over the decisions, and I was left in a corner. So upon delivery, the doctor placed the baby in the warmer next to me. As everyone started to focus on helping the mother, one nurse told me to keep watch over the baby. I looked down at this perfectly formed tiny baby. She was breathing! I was shocked. I did not question the decision not to resuscitate. I just wasn't prepared to watch this baby struggle for breath. Those experience, hardened nurses remembered that this child was a real human being. Since the mother was unable to hold the child, they wanted someone to be with her. So that left me, a brand new nurse with no training in how to handle any of this. Those nurses remembered that the baby was a human, but they forgot that I was. They made no effort to explain things to me, or help me in my task. They just left me to do the hardest job in the room. They ate the young one.
I am now one of those experienced nurses. I have spent 3 years working in an emergency department. We get used to many, many things. I catch myself as I offer up a new nurse to perform an unpleasant task. I, sometimes, am all to willing to eat the young nurses. Yet, someone grabbed a hold of me and reminded me that this is not the nurse I want to be. I want to be the nurse that remembers that my co-workers are human too. We nurses deserve to be treated with the same care and compassion that we give our patients. If we don't start taking care of ourselves, who will be left to care for the vulnerable? I am working very hard at taking care of myself. It is a huge commitment. Sometimes, I regret making this commitment. Sometimes, I want to be the nurse who refuses to take responsibility for her actions. I don't like examining my part of a problem. Worse than that, I feel like I am the only one doing it! But, I know that I am not. I have received too much help over the past 3 years defining who I am as a nurse. I work with some really great people. Hopefully, we will keep reminding ourselves that we nurses are humans too.
I was hired on as a postpartum/antepartum nurse. As part of my orientation, I spent 2 shifts on the labor and delivery unit. This L&D unit was a group of women hardened by working with the most critical patients in the area. They were asked to do impossible tasks, and not appreciated or paid well for their efforts. On top of that was an ongoing dislike and distrust for postpartum nurses.
I went with my preceptor into a delivery of a fetus. They had tried everything to stop the labor, but the baby was coming. I had overheard the discussion between the nurses and the resident over resuscitation of the baby. After determining that the baby was not viable, they informed the mom that the baby was not going to survive. She started sobbing and became hysterical. Unfortunately, she was a young mother with no one there to support her. The nurses were trying to explain things, the doctor was fretting over the decisions, and I was left in a corner. So upon delivery, the doctor placed the baby in the warmer next to me. As everyone started to focus on helping the mother, one nurse told me to keep watch over the baby. I looked down at this perfectly formed tiny baby. She was breathing! I was shocked. I did not question the decision not to resuscitate. I just wasn't prepared to watch this baby struggle for breath. Those experience, hardened nurses remembered that this child was a real human being. Since the mother was unable to hold the child, they wanted someone to be with her. So that left me, a brand new nurse with no training in how to handle any of this. Those nurses remembered that the baby was a human, but they forgot that I was. They made no effort to explain things to me, or help me in my task. They just left me to do the hardest job in the room. They ate the young one.
I am now one of those experienced nurses. I have spent 3 years working in an emergency department. We get used to many, many things. I catch myself as I offer up a new nurse to perform an unpleasant task. I, sometimes, am all to willing to eat the young nurses. Yet, someone grabbed a hold of me and reminded me that this is not the nurse I want to be. I want to be the nurse that remembers that my co-workers are human too. We nurses deserve to be treated with the same care and compassion that we give our patients. If we don't start taking care of ourselves, who will be left to care for the vulnerable? I am working very hard at taking care of myself. It is a huge commitment. Sometimes, I regret making this commitment. Sometimes, I want to be the nurse who refuses to take responsibility for her actions. I don't like examining my part of a problem. Worse than that, I feel like I am the only one doing it! But, I know that I am not. I have received too much help over the past 3 years defining who I am as a nurse. I work with some really great people. Hopefully, we will keep reminding ourselves that we nurses are humans too.
Adjusting my sails
Recently, someone told me that a good leader learns how to adjust his sails in order to keep going. I've only sailed once, and I ended up in a very cold lake! Hopefully, I've been able to do a better job of adjusting in real life. I certainly don't have any idea of where I am ultimately headed. I keep getting reminded that I am not in control anyway.
Last week, I walked into a meeting with someone, and he asked 'Are you OK?'. I reacted with the common answer, 'yes'. I, now, wish I had given the true answer. Not really. I've had a very hard couple of weeks trying to work through some things. I've decided to face how I am causing problems. I am looking, searching for the root cause of my anger and frustrations. I am becoming aware of how my anger and frustrations have affected others. It is hard to look inside and see how you hurt others. It has been easier for me to blog about how others have hurt me.
I, now, recognize there was a double edge to our decision to leave our church. I wanted our departure to hurt other people. I was hoping that they would feel the same hurt I was feeling. I think I would have acted differently if I had been more conscious of my intentions.
Also, last week, I was dealing with traumatic memories. I have sought care in coping with some of the events I have experienced as a nurse and EMT/paramedic. It is very hard to find someone willing and able to sit and listen as I rehash things. Yet, I will continue to keep my feelings bottled up if I don't spend time rehashing. I had several heart to heart talks with coworkers, colleagues and friends.
I will admit that I was rubbed a bit raw last week, wondering if I am doing anything right. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it. But, a kiss from one of my kids always helps me get things back into perspective. Getting authentic feedback is like a new gust of wind. I can adjust my sails with more accuracy now. My job as a mother and wife requires me to keep moving forward with this family as we try to find our way in this world. I am humbled, and grateful for those who do the work required for authentic feed back. However, next time someone asks me 'Are you ok?'. I might take a minute and try to give an authentic answer.
Last week, I walked into a meeting with someone, and he asked 'Are you OK?'. I reacted with the common answer, 'yes'. I, now, wish I had given the true answer. Not really. I've had a very hard couple of weeks trying to work through some things. I've decided to face how I am causing problems. I am looking, searching for the root cause of my anger and frustrations. I am becoming aware of how my anger and frustrations have affected others. It is hard to look inside and see how you hurt others. It has been easier for me to blog about how others have hurt me.
I, now, recognize there was a double edge to our decision to leave our church. I wanted our departure to hurt other people. I was hoping that they would feel the same hurt I was feeling. I think I would have acted differently if I had been more conscious of my intentions.
Also, last week, I was dealing with traumatic memories. I have sought care in coping with some of the events I have experienced as a nurse and EMT/paramedic. It is very hard to find someone willing and able to sit and listen as I rehash things. Yet, I will continue to keep my feelings bottled up if I don't spend time rehashing. I had several heart to heart talks with coworkers, colleagues and friends.
I will admit that I was rubbed a bit raw last week, wondering if I am doing anything right. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it. But, a kiss from one of my kids always helps me get things back into perspective. Getting authentic feedback is like a new gust of wind. I can adjust my sails with more accuracy now. My job as a mother and wife requires me to keep moving forward with this family as we try to find our way in this world. I am humbled, and grateful for those who do the work required for authentic feed back. However, next time someone asks me 'Are you ok?'. I might take a minute and try to give an authentic answer.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
and Dyin'
A few years ago, I was reading a book with stories of several midwives. I was shocked when I read that most of them spent time working in hospice or with terminally ill patients. I was still of the mindset that they are totally different realms of care taking. When I asked my midwife about this she said it was perfectly logical. "It is the two thresholds."
There is something very similar to creating a space for bringing a soul into this world, and dealing with the left over space as a soul leaves this world. I had the privilege of spending time with a group of women who gathered around another mom as she spent her last days on this earth. Fittingly, this same woman was a doula at the birth of my third child. I dedicate this story to her.
The emails started coming out, and we knew that she was nearing the end. One can only fight off the ravages of cancer for so long. I am a nurse, so when I saw an email about her developing a condition, I knew she was hours away from leaving us. Another nurse friend of mine recognized it. She started The Vigil. We would all meet in the lobby of the oncology floor to be present for our friend, and each other. Soon, a very motley crew of women formed. People were knitting, writing, working on the computer. Someone set up an altar on a table for us to place whatever we wanted to. We sat, cried, laughed, hugged and just simply waited. Waited, not knowing exactly when the event would happen, but sensing its approach. We searched for answers, not even understanding the questions to ask. Waiting. Finally, most of us decided it was time to head to our own homes, leaving a couple of us behind. Ultimately, death is a private event. As we hesitantly started leaving, the one who started The Vigil said that she wanted us to join in a circle and hold hands. Among us were Catholics, Pagans, Protestants and Jews. We had no common words so we just chanted one long Ohm. It's beautiful sound fading out as each of us released our own fears and anguish.
The call came very early in the morning for me. I was dreaming of my friend when the phone woke me. She was sitting in the middle of a circus, looking around at the lights, holding her daughter. The sound of the phone ring melting into the dream, bringing me out of it. As it happened, I had an appointment with one of the Episcopal Nuns at the Convent later that morning. Because I had gotten up so early, I made it in time for the Eucharist. As we approached the prayers for the departed, my tears started flowing, and I managed to utter the name of my friend. I sat in the chapel openly grieving, sobbing. I have never participated in communal grieving this way. Once I overcame my embarrassment, I found it cathartic.
The next day, on Sunday, we gathered at a friend's house on the lake. As a group of moms, we always came together to decorate something for an expecting mother. This time, we gathered to decorate a cardboard casket. It was a day full of tears and laughter. The children all got to paint whatever they wanted. It was amazing to watch them. For most of the children, it was their first experience with death. They got to see it as a celebration, and to feel the presence of a supportive group of people. Towards the end of the festivities, someone noticed a rainbow over the lake. Not one rainbow, but two appeared. It was a sight that I will never, ever forget. It seemed as God was telling us that everything would be OK. Something about a promise, a promise that tells us to trust the process. We really have no control over how we enter this world, or how we leave it. After this experience with dyin', I now know I can trust the process. I know that this group of moms will simply show up. We'll sing, chant, pray or whatever we need to do to help a soul as it leaves this world. I found this experience to be a very Holy one. It was a space filled with amazing people, renewed friendships and healing. I am so grateful for having shared it. Thanks Serenity, I am in your debt.
There is something very similar to creating a space for bringing a soul into this world, and dealing with the left over space as a soul leaves this world. I had the privilege of spending time with a group of women who gathered around another mom as she spent her last days on this earth. Fittingly, this same woman was a doula at the birth of my third child. I dedicate this story to her.
The emails started coming out, and we knew that she was nearing the end. One can only fight off the ravages of cancer for so long. I am a nurse, so when I saw an email about her developing a condition, I knew she was hours away from leaving us. Another nurse friend of mine recognized it. She started The Vigil. We would all meet in the lobby of the oncology floor to be present for our friend, and each other. Soon, a very motley crew of women formed. People were knitting, writing, working on the computer. Someone set up an altar on a table for us to place whatever we wanted to. We sat, cried, laughed, hugged and just simply waited. Waited, not knowing exactly when the event would happen, but sensing its approach. We searched for answers, not even understanding the questions to ask. Waiting. Finally, most of us decided it was time to head to our own homes, leaving a couple of us behind. Ultimately, death is a private event. As we hesitantly started leaving, the one who started The Vigil said that she wanted us to join in a circle and hold hands. Among us were Catholics, Pagans, Protestants and Jews. We had no common words so we just chanted one long Ohm. It's beautiful sound fading out as each of us released our own fears and anguish.
The call came very early in the morning for me. I was dreaming of my friend when the phone woke me. She was sitting in the middle of a circus, looking around at the lights, holding her daughter. The sound of the phone ring melting into the dream, bringing me out of it. As it happened, I had an appointment with one of the Episcopal Nuns at the Convent later that morning. Because I had gotten up so early, I made it in time for the Eucharist. As we approached the prayers for the departed, my tears started flowing, and I managed to utter the name of my friend. I sat in the chapel openly grieving, sobbing. I have never participated in communal grieving this way. Once I overcame my embarrassment, I found it cathartic.
The next day, on Sunday, we gathered at a friend's house on the lake. As a group of moms, we always came together to decorate something for an expecting mother. This time, we gathered to decorate a cardboard casket. It was a day full of tears and laughter. The children all got to paint whatever they wanted. It was amazing to watch them. For most of the children, it was their first experience with death. They got to see it as a celebration, and to feel the presence of a supportive group of people. Towards the end of the festivities, someone noticed a rainbow over the lake. Not one rainbow, but two appeared. It was a sight that I will never, ever forget. It seemed as God was telling us that everything would be OK. Something about a promise, a promise that tells us to trust the process. We really have no control over how we enter this world, or how we leave it. After this experience with dyin', I now know I can trust the process. I know that this group of moms will simply show up. We'll sing, chant, pray or whatever we need to do to help a soul as it leaves this world. I found this experience to be a very Holy one. It was a space filled with amazing people, renewed friendships and healing. I am so grateful for having shared it. Thanks Serenity, I am in your debt.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Birthin'
As I sit at my computer tonight, I am a bit maudlin. Our baby turns two years old tomorrow. Her entrance into our family has caused quite a stir. In honor of that day, I have decided to share some of the story surround her birth.....don't worry, I won't give too many details.
I drove home from my Advance Cardiac Life Support Class. I had been feeling a bit uncomfortable, but wasn't due for another 2 weeks. Yet, something did seem a bit different. There was a beautiful full moon out. We live out in the country, so the stars and moon get very bright. As I went to sleep, I started to wonder if this would be the night. At about 2 am, I got the answer. My water broke while I laid in bed. I waited awhile to see if anything would happen. No real contractions, nothing. I finally got a bit nervous and woke up my husband to tell him we were going to have a baby today. We called the midwife to give her advanced notice. We then settled into waiting. I walked around our property, enjoying the full moon. It was interesting letting the moon light my way. I have never been brave enough to walk around at night with no flashlight, but this time was different. I wanted to visit the creek, and sit beside the running water. Finally, with no real contractions, I went back to bed. I realized that I needed sleep more than I needed a walk. Shortly the kids all woke up. We called a friend to take the kids away for a fun day at the lake. Steve and I sat around wondering what was going to happen.
At the onset of this pregnancy, I had made a firm decision. I had no preconceived notion of how or where I would give birth. We had planned for a home birth from the beginning, but understood the very real possibility of needing to go to the hospital. I had even verbalized to my midwife that I was going to be fine with a c-section, if I needed it. I had nothing to prove with birthing this baby. I realized that I had no real control over what was in store. I was just willing to trust my body, my midwife and this process.
I had a few contractions here and there. It was a matter of stopping what I was doing and moaning through them. Yet, I never had more that 3-4 an hour. I started getting frustrated and scared about a stalled labor. The birthing tub had been set up, I had napped. I even ate a full lunch. We spoke with the midwife all day. I was beginning to get nervous, realizing that a long labor was not a good thing. I called a Priest friend of mine. I asked her if she had any prayers for a stalled labor. Her answer startled me "What are you afraid of?" This question caught me off guard and caused me to think. I gave the standard answers of 'pain, something going wrong, a long labor'. She kept listening and I kept thinking. Finally, I was able to utter my deepest fear. I was simply afraid of the power that lay within me. I was afraid that I would have the birth that I had always dreamed of.
After I hung up with her, I had a really, really good cry. I had been holding a huge amount of stress in my body, and I needed to let it all go. I needed to prepare a space for this new soul to enter our family. After crying, I told my husband I was going to try to take a nap. Steve went to the other room to watch TV. A few short minutes later a contraction hit, then another, then another. I moaned through each of them. Soon, I heard Steve talking to the midwife on the phone telling her to come on over. After a few more contractions, I headed for the birthing pool set up in our bedroom. I soon realized that real labor had begun. With each contraction, I had to hold my husband's hand. I quickly learned to get a little ahead of the contraction and started my moaning early. It seemed to help me from fearing the intensity. I felt in total control of a totally out of control situation. Soon our midwife arrived with her assistant. Their presence was quiet and reassuring. Soon I began to push our baby out on my hands and knees while in the water. I felt her head pass out, and I reached down to feel it. I rubbed her hair while she remained in side of me. It was the most amazing feeling. There I was, in the middle of this incredibly physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding act. Yet, I was able to embrace it. I was even enjoying it. With the next contraction, she came out into the water. The midwife assistant and I fished her out of the water, and I pulled her to my chest. As I lay back, I realized that I had done it! I had delivered this baby, by myself! I did it! After looking to see that we had a new daughter, and a kiss from my midwife, I looked around. All I could say was 'God is in the room.'
The Presence of the Divine was so tangible at that moment. I had felt the powerful force of Healing. I had been surrounded by prayers and love. My midwife, her assistant and my husband had provided me the space to do what I needed to do. We, together, had created a Holy Space for the entrance of another soul into this world. While I do realize that it was a baby that was brought into the world, I think that she wasn't the only one to be born that day.
I drove home from my Advance Cardiac Life Support Class. I had been feeling a bit uncomfortable, but wasn't due for another 2 weeks. Yet, something did seem a bit different. There was a beautiful full moon out. We live out in the country, so the stars and moon get very bright. As I went to sleep, I started to wonder if this would be the night. At about 2 am, I got the answer. My water broke while I laid in bed. I waited awhile to see if anything would happen. No real contractions, nothing. I finally got a bit nervous and woke up my husband to tell him we were going to have a baby today. We called the midwife to give her advanced notice. We then settled into waiting. I walked around our property, enjoying the full moon. It was interesting letting the moon light my way. I have never been brave enough to walk around at night with no flashlight, but this time was different. I wanted to visit the creek, and sit beside the running water. Finally, with no real contractions, I went back to bed. I realized that I needed sleep more than I needed a walk. Shortly the kids all woke up. We called a friend to take the kids away for a fun day at the lake. Steve and I sat around wondering what was going to happen.
At the onset of this pregnancy, I had made a firm decision. I had no preconceived notion of how or where I would give birth. We had planned for a home birth from the beginning, but understood the very real possibility of needing to go to the hospital. I had even verbalized to my midwife that I was going to be fine with a c-section, if I needed it. I had nothing to prove with birthing this baby. I realized that I had no real control over what was in store. I was just willing to trust my body, my midwife and this process.
I had a few contractions here and there. It was a matter of stopping what I was doing and moaning through them. Yet, I never had more that 3-4 an hour. I started getting frustrated and scared about a stalled labor. The birthing tub had been set up, I had napped. I even ate a full lunch. We spoke with the midwife all day. I was beginning to get nervous, realizing that a long labor was not a good thing. I called a Priest friend of mine. I asked her if she had any prayers for a stalled labor. Her answer startled me "What are you afraid of?" This question caught me off guard and caused me to think. I gave the standard answers of 'pain, something going wrong, a long labor'. She kept listening and I kept thinking. Finally, I was able to utter my deepest fear. I was simply afraid of the power that lay within me. I was afraid that I would have the birth that I had always dreamed of.
After I hung up with her, I had a really, really good cry. I had been holding a huge amount of stress in my body, and I needed to let it all go. I needed to prepare a space for this new soul to enter our family. After crying, I told my husband I was going to try to take a nap. Steve went to the other room to watch TV. A few short minutes later a contraction hit, then another, then another. I moaned through each of them. Soon, I heard Steve talking to the midwife on the phone telling her to come on over. After a few more contractions, I headed for the birthing pool set up in our bedroom. I soon realized that real labor had begun. With each contraction, I had to hold my husband's hand. I quickly learned to get a little ahead of the contraction and started my moaning early. It seemed to help me from fearing the intensity. I felt in total control of a totally out of control situation. Soon our midwife arrived with her assistant. Their presence was quiet and reassuring. Soon I began to push our baby out on my hands and knees while in the water. I felt her head pass out, and I reached down to feel it. I rubbed her hair while she remained in side of me. It was the most amazing feeling. There I was, in the middle of this incredibly physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding act. Yet, I was able to embrace it. I was even enjoying it. With the next contraction, she came out into the water. The midwife assistant and I fished her out of the water, and I pulled her to my chest. As I lay back, I realized that I had done it! I had delivered this baby, by myself! I did it! After looking to see that we had a new daughter, and a kiss from my midwife, I looked around. All I could say was 'God is in the room.'
The Presence of the Divine was so tangible at that moment. I had felt the powerful force of Healing. I had been surrounded by prayers and love. My midwife, her assistant and my husband had provided me the space to do what I needed to do. We, together, had created a Holy Space for the entrance of another soul into this world. While I do realize that it was a baby that was brought into the world, I think that she wasn't the only one to be born that day.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Blessed are the peacemakers...
Matthew 5: 9,10
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
So notice here, it does not say peacekeepers. I think there is a huge difference between one who makes peace, and one who keeps peace. Although, I am not exactly sure how someone might make peace. I think that Peace is actually when we rest in God's love. For in human terms, there is very little peace. I think there is primarily conflict. Yet, how do we deal with the inevitable conflict?
I think one of the most insidious ways of dealing with conflict is to avoid it at all costs. In order to do this, one must set up an appearance of peace. This forces people to become peacekeepers. At first, keeping the peace seems easy enough. It avoids the conflict at hand, and the peacekeeper gets immediate satisfaction. Yet, because this is only an appearance of peace, more and more effort goes towards appearances. I think slippery slope usually leads to someone being a 'peace monger.'
"Friedman (1996a, 1996b, 1999) had a special concern with emotional fields created by leaders that value togetherness over individuality, creativity, and/or imagination. He observed that Awhen a self-directed, imaginative, energetic, or creative member (low in the organizational hierarchy) is being consistently frustrated and sabotaged rather than encouraged and supported, 100 percent of the time it will be true that, regardless of whether the disruptors are supervisors, subordinates, or peers, the person at the very top of that institution will be a peace-monger@ (1996b, pp. 35-36), a person who believes good feelings are more important than progress, and who goes to great lengths to avoid anxiety and conflict at all costs."
(http://www.academicleadership.org/emprical_research/The_Edwin_Friedman_Model_of_Family_Systems_Thinking.shtml)
When I read this article, I was astonished. It gave me great insight into my own frustrations. I have been in several systems whose leaders were peace mongers. I now recognized that I was being sabotaged, and discouraged, for the sake of a sense of peace. It really had very little to do with my own abilities or creativity. It has very little to do with me in general.
So what did Jesus mean when he said 'Blessed are the peacemakers'? What does a peacemaker look like? I think that he is probably causing a bunch of trouble! He threatens a system's false sense of peace. He forces people to take a hard look at the reality of a situation, challenging their appearances. He doesn't settle for a false, terminal peace. He struggles for God's enduring Peace. I think that he simply makes room for God. That seems simple. Yet, in a world full of people wanting immediate ego gratification, that is harder than it looks. I think Jesus calls them Blessed because that he knows how hard this job is. In order to be a peacemaker, God must first bless you with the ability to perform this task. I suppose that making peace probably involves humility, kindness and discernment. I think that the peacemaker must be given the vision to see the greater picture, calling all of God's children into Love. All of God's children. Peace is meant for every person, not to be gained at the expense of another.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
So notice here, it does not say peacekeepers. I think there is a huge difference between one who makes peace, and one who keeps peace. Although, I am not exactly sure how someone might make peace. I think that Peace is actually when we rest in God's love. For in human terms, there is very little peace. I think there is primarily conflict. Yet, how do we deal with the inevitable conflict?
I think one of the most insidious ways of dealing with conflict is to avoid it at all costs. In order to do this, one must set up an appearance of peace. This forces people to become peacekeepers. At first, keeping the peace seems easy enough. It avoids the conflict at hand, and the peacekeeper gets immediate satisfaction. Yet, because this is only an appearance of peace, more and more effort goes towards appearances. I think slippery slope usually leads to someone being a 'peace monger.'
"Friedman (1996a, 1996b, 1999) had a special concern with emotional fields created by leaders that value togetherness over individuality, creativity, and/or imagination. He observed that Awhen a self-directed, imaginative, energetic, or creative member (low in the organizational hierarchy) is being consistently frustrated and sabotaged rather than encouraged and supported, 100 percent of the time it will be true that, regardless of whether the disruptors are supervisors, subordinates, or peers, the person at the very top of that institution will be a peace-monger@ (1996b, pp. 35-36), a person who believes good feelings are more important than progress, and who goes to great lengths to avoid anxiety and conflict at all costs."
(http://www.academicleadership.org/emprical_research/The_Edwin_Friedman_Model_of_Family_Systems_Thinking.shtml)
When I read this article, I was astonished. It gave me great insight into my own frustrations. I have been in several systems whose leaders were peace mongers. I now recognized that I was being sabotaged, and discouraged, for the sake of a sense of peace. It really had very little to do with my own abilities or creativity. It has very little to do with me in general.
So what did Jesus mean when he said 'Blessed are the peacemakers'? What does a peacemaker look like? I think that he is probably causing a bunch of trouble! He threatens a system's false sense of peace. He forces people to take a hard look at the reality of a situation, challenging their appearances. He doesn't settle for a false, terminal peace. He struggles for God's enduring Peace. I think that he simply makes room for God. That seems simple. Yet, in a world full of people wanting immediate ego gratification, that is harder than it looks. I think Jesus calls them Blessed because that he knows how hard this job is. In order to be a peacemaker, God must first bless you with the ability to perform this task. I suppose that making peace probably involves humility, kindness and discernment. I think that the peacemaker must be given the vision to see the greater picture, calling all of God's children into Love. All of God's children. Peace is meant for every person, not to be gained at the expense of another.
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