Seeing a Shape of Things to Come

Well, I’m still behind on my reading, but I’m making progress and not giving up.  I’m praying for endurance and persistence and clarity this weekend and I have two papers to write for school as well as my regular weekly readings, and overdue Ember Day letter to my bishop, and getting on track with my Lent reading.  You would think that after two years I’d be in the habit of starting all study with prayer but it is still something that sometimes I have to remind myself of.  I truly experience a difference in those times when I approach study prayerfully instead of just jumping in and trying to plow through it.  I wonder why sometimes it takes me getting so frustrated I’m ready to throw my books out the window before I stop to pray and allow God into my studying … my mom always said I was stubborn. 

But, I am encouraged by my readings in Chittister’s book on The Rule.  I’ve been reading the chapter on the qualities of the abbot or prioress.  What a radical concept of leadership!  A spiritual leader is to lead not drive, to guide, challenge, and enable those in one’s care, to be the center and norm of the group but not above it, “to show in our own lives the beauty that oozes out of those who live the spiritual life to its fullness”.  (I give kudos to any author who can work ‘ooze’ into a legitimate sentence!)  St. Benedict describes leaders who are committed to the best in the people they lead, who are concerned with the growth and formation of the whole person, not just simply getting things done.  He wants as Chisttister describes it “holy listeners who care about the effect of what they do on everybody else. Imagine a world that was run by holy listeners!” 

I had a conversation with our Chaplain this week and it’s official, I will be Head Sacristan next year.  Basically what that means is I will work under the Chaplain to plan and organize the daily and weekly chapel services.  I shared with her that I see so much potential with this position – that it shouldn’t just be about the administrative stuff but also about the spiritual formation of our students.  It has to be more if chapel isn’t to be seen as just another task or duty we do each day.  Society teaches that spirituality, religion, and church are pieces of our lives and yet somehow in seminary we are to discover that spirituality is about how we live not something we do.  I obviously struggle with this and I see others struggle with it, too. 

As I was reading this chapter on leadership I could see a link between what I am reading and my position next year and I can already see how this Lenten study and continuing to live with the things I learn after Lent is forming me so that by the guidance and grace of God I can help form others.  I pray that I can learn to lead as a holy listener. 

God’s peace,

Nancy

Scabs and Onions

Lent, that six week period before Easter during which Christians are to reflect on penitence and discipline, giving up those things which have become a stumbling block to or a distraction from our relationship with God.  This year for Lent, instead of giving up something, I’m taking on an intense personal study on the Rule of St. Benedict to learn this ancient yet still relevant way of intentionally and thoughtfully listening for and living out God’s will.  I’m not sure I can offer up a well articulated explanation for this, really, except that it’s what I feel led to do.  I’m anxious and excited at the same time, knowing it is going to be a time of growth and formation for me. 

I guess its part of a process that has been going on for a few months in which I’ve been discovering some behaviors and patterns that keep me from experiencing the fullness of my current relationships.  There is much behind this that I’ve chosen not to blog about although I’ve journalled extensively about it privately.  I’ve been peeling away at layers and removing what I put up as protective coverings to reveal unhealed wounds underneath.  But just as cutting an onion produces tears yet flavors dishes deliciously I know that the end result will be well worth it. I’m working through the layers of all of the notions I have about what others want or think they need me to be and realizing who I am simply as a child of God.  And just as sometimes a wound needs to be reopened and treated differently to allow proper healing, I’ve had to reawaken some painful memories to let them heal rightly. 

The books I’m reading are:

Seeking God: The Way of St. Benedict by Esther de Waal

This is an overview of the Rule and a good place to begin discovering what the Rule as a whole teaches: God’s presence is everywhere and seeking Him is not what we do but how we live.

And

The Rule of Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21^st Century by Joan Chittister

This one is a commentary on the Rule itself.  It breaks the Rule down into small chunks with Chittister’s commentary on how it applies to our lives today.  It is meant to be read daily so that the entire Rule and commentary is read through completely three times a year.  I’ll read the whole of it during Lent and then settle into the daily reading going forward. 

To be honest, a week in I’m already behind in my reading.  It’s been a week of irregular schedules and interruptions.  In this time of taking on a study and formation that I’m excited about and long for, the demands of my time are greater than usual.  It’s part of the struggle, right?  This is part of the point of why I chose to study St. Benedict, to live the spirituality that it is so easy to segment into a “part” of life rather than letting it be life. 

In the Prologue chapter, Joan Chittister says “This [living life well] is an enterprise between two spirits, in other words, God’s and our own. We will fail often, but God will not fail us and we must not stop.”  I'm going to keep at it and I'll write about my progress. 

I wish you all a blessed Lenten journey.

God’s peace,

Nancy

Choices

It's the beginning of a new year … and as we all do, I've been reflecting on the "old" one (year, I mean, not me). 2010 was a year of joy, sorrow, love, and blessings. I'm blessed with family and friends that I love dearly and who love me. I'm privileged to be studying for the vocation to which God has called me (even if I have a "love/hate" relationship with graduate school, it is always a privilege). I lost a dear friend and spiritual mentor. I continue to live with the loss of my mother and husband in recent years. God has answered my prayers, sometimes the way I wanted and sometimes not, but in all cases I can see that it was always the best answer for me.

And, of course all of this reflecting leads to reflecting on life in general … and the one word that keeps coming to my mind is "choices".

In his book, Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis says something that has really stuck with me:

"[E]very time you make a choice you are turning into the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different than it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing into a heavenly creature or a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state of the other."

There are many events in our lives, both good and bad, that we don't choose but the choice we can make is how we react to and deal with those events. We can choose to see the negative or the positive. Even if sometimes the positive isn't readily visible, we can trust in faith that God sees a bigger picture that we can't always see and we can trust that His vision is better than ours. We can make the choice that no matter what happens, to live a life in harmony with God, with others, and with ourselves and to choose those actions and attitudes which enable such harmony.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think this is easy or something you decide to do like a New Year's Resolution. It's a choice we make each and every moment, sometimes consciously sometimes unconsciously, with each and every thing we do, say, think, and feel. It's intentional. The more we consciously choose harmony, the more we'll choose it unconsciously. It will become part of who we are becoming.

I wish each of you God's peace in 2011!

Nancy

Reflections

Hello ... I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've written ... well, it's not that I haven't been writing, it's just that I've been writing for school, and reading, and preparing for quizzes, and working at the library, and in the chapel ... needless to say, it's a busy term.  But, I am getting the chance in a couple of classes to do some reflective writing and it just hit me that I could actually kill two birds with one stone and post those writings here.  So, I'll space out the ones I've already written and add new ones as I write them.  And, don't fret, I will get around to writing things just for the blog again, I'm sure (maybe after midterms ...). 

One of the classes is a seminar class that goes along with our field placement (mine is at Church of the Messiah and I do plan to write some posts about the goings on there).  One of the things we are learning in the seminar is to reflect theologically on the things that are going on around us; to look at all we do and encounter through a theological lens.  The professor starts each class by asking "so tell me what interesting things you've seen this week,"  and we talk about where is God in all of this.  We also have to write personal reflections and turn them in.  The following is the first one I did:

I have a lot on my plate this term; I was a little concerned about it over the summer and spent time praying about what I could let go.  In these prayers, however, God told me that I could do it, that I needed to do all of it, there would be important lessons learned.  So, as the first week of the term approached, I carefully plotted out my calendar and prayed for strength and endurance (God, I’m not as young as I once was …).  During the first week very little went according to my calendar.  I was feeling quite stressed and discombobulated.  I was having bad dreams about not getting things done, not being where I was supposed to be, and forgetting what I was supposed to be doing.  I was getting too distracted by what might go wrong to concentrate on what I needed to be doing.  So, I sat down to pray: “God, you said I needed to take these things on, why can’t they go the way I planned them … Oh, wait, that’s the point, isn’t it?  These are not tasks I’m doing for myself but for your purposes.  I need to let you form and transform me.  Even in the craziness, God, you are present, teaching me.  Help me to remember to not hold so tight to my plans that I let go of you.  This isn’t going to be an easy lesson for me to learn.” 

Looking back on the things that “disrupted” my own plans, some of these were the people around me, in my community, who needed to feel God’s presence.  I wonder, if in my stress of rearranging my plans to be with them, did I get in their way? 

A Little Thing from CPE

This was part of my self-evaluation of my CPE experience ... we had to write a brief biography of our self as told by a favorite cartoon character.  I picked Eeyore from A. A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh books.  I have always loved these stories and have a small (albeit dilapidated after all these years) stuffed Pooh and Eeyore from when I was a child.  When my own son was small, we would watch Pooh videos together and when he would get hurt or upset, I could always calm him by singing the song from the videos.

I found it difficult but fun to write at the same time.  For those who are familiar with the Winnie the Pooh stories, you will recognize lines and descriptions taken from the books (with the hopes that I don't cause any major copyright violation incidents).   I hope you enjoy it...

Biography of Me, by Eeyore
Nancy sat by herself in the corner of her room by the window, her head to one side, thinking. Sometimes she thought to herself, "Why?" and sometimes she thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes she thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes she didn't quite know what she was thinking about. The particular task ahead of her was to write her biography and her thoughts kept coming back to the boring thought that her childhood was nothing particularly exceptional so why would anyone be interested. Yet it had to be done and so she began.

She wrote and wrote and thought and wrote and realized her life looked different in the words on the page than the pictures in her head. The pictures in her head looked like any other family she knew, not that she new every family every there was, but she'd known some and that was enough. "They're funny things, families. You never know what yours looks like until you aren't in the middle of it anymore," she said to no one in particular, particularly since no one else was in the room.

Mom and Daddy, a big sister and brother, these were the ones she grew up with in a small corner of a small town in the big state of Texas. Sounds normal enough but the activities in the home were not as those of the neighbors. Daddy was a student, going to university, thinking big thoughts. Mom worked when the rest of the world slept and took care of those who needed extra care, even if just for a short time. But, Nancy said as she typed it, dinner time made things normal, they all sat down to eat together.

As everyone must, Nancy grew from childhood to a teenager with all of the mixed up thoughts and emotions that involves. This she knew was like everyone else. There were times when she would say, like I've been known to say, "We can't all and some of us don't … Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush." But there were many more times when she would say "one can't complain. I have my friends and my family. Someone spoke to me only yesterday" in her bouncy, cheery way.

The years continued to pass, days and weeks and seasons, rain and shine, hot and cold, happy and not. Someones and others and friends and dear ones, some stayed and some went. To most she could say: "Thank you. You're a real friend." Wandering here and there, over and yon, she never quite found her fit in any of the places she tried. One sun shiny spring day instead of going for a picnic in the woods with her son, she decided to visit a place she hadn't been in a very long not short time. She knew she belonged in this place and even when she went somewhere else, this place was still familiar there and she belonged. The sign on the door read Episcopal Church.

She’d been to a similar place as a child yet that place never seemed to fit. When she wanted to serve in this similar place she wasn’t allowed and this made her think thoughts about how was it possible that she read the guide book differently than others so she doubted her ability to read it and understand. It must just be grey dust that had blown into her head by mistake. There was no talking about it. There was no give and take. No exchange of thought. Only their way.

But in this new familiar and belonging place that she had found, Nancy began to feel a deeper and deeper need to serve and this time others and dear ones accepted what she did and encouraged her to serve more. The more she served the more energy she found until one day she was told she needed to go to yet another place to learn and read and practice about how to do this serving thing the right way. She said yes to the adventure but there would be happenings to happen before it could begin.

Of the someones and dear ones that she held so close, an extra special someone, her wise Grammy Irene was getting too old to hold on to anymore and she passed in that way that our grammys and grampys do and Nancy was sad. Three seasons, chilly winter and breezy spring and the oh-so hot summer passed and another dear one, one of the dearest, Mom, got so very sick and she was too tired to get better and she went to be with the grammys and grampys but Nancy thought she wasn’t old enough to go. But this was not all. Sometimes sad things come more than we want them to. Before they could leave on their adventure, Nancy’s husband and partner and friend decided that he didn’t want to have any more days and weeks and years and he too went where Grammy Irene and Mom went to be. The sadness was bigger than anything Nancy had ever seen. So big it tried to block out all the things that could cause a girl to smile.

But Nancy was not alone. There were still someones and friends and dear ones around and they smiled for her when she couldn’t and she could see her own smile somewhere in theirs. Despite being sad, Nancy knew as much as a girl could know that there was still the adventure she must take to learn and read and practice those things she needed to put into her brain, for they were already in her heart. And it is on this learning adventure that Nancy sits, writing her story that must be written, thinking new thoughts and trying them on for size and liking the fit. Saying to herself, “I know if I didn't have high hopes, I'd be depressed all the time” and feeling the happiness that will always live within her and letting it spill out onto the someones and dear ones and others around her.

Reactions

I wrote this last week and just never got it posted… I'm now officially done with CPE, but there will be a few posts coming from the experience, I think, now that I have time to sit back and reflect on it a bit more …

There are lot of rules in the hospital about patient confidentiality (and rightfully so) so I have been reluctant to write much about my experiences with patients during my chaplaincy. But sometimes, the experience is just too powerful or interesting not to share. Of course I'll leave out anything that might possibly identify the hospital or the patient.

I walked in the room and introduced myself to the patient and his wife. As soon as I said the word "chaplain" his face light up. This is always a good sign. Reactions to saying I'm the chaplain have run the gamut, anywhere from sheer terror (why do I need a chaplain, am I dying), to suspicion (are you going to try and convert me), to disinterest (just another of a parade of hospital staff coming through), but I digress … back to this particular reaction, delight!

"I have a question for you, Chaplain." His face turns quite serious. "If you die in your sleep, how do you know you're dead?" (You will all be proud to know that I controlled my impulse to give a smart-assed answer because I saw the seriousness of his face and knew he really wanted a serious answer.)

"Well, I guess it all depends on what you believe happens after you die," I said.

He smiled and I gave an internal sigh of relief that he was pleased with my answer, or at least I was hoping the smile meant he wasn't offended or put off by it.

He stared at me for a few seconds before saying anything else. "You didn't flinch at my question, you just answered it. I like that. I guess my question is more about what should we be thinking as we die?"

I won't go into detail about everything we said (the conversation took over an hour and I don't care if you do have your favorite reading beverage and are willing to read it, I don't have the brain capacity to write it out word for word and disguise any personal information on behalf of the patient. Sorry to disappoint you).

He shared with me his personal experiences of being in dangerous situations where people around him were dying and his only thought was to protect and save others (this was the nature of his job), not the possibility of his own death. His current illness, however, had him thinking of his own death and he wondered if that meant he was going to die. He was calm and confident, believing he would go to Heaven when he died. We talked about how it felt to know that we are doing what God needs us to be doing while on earth. I didn't try to concoct any answers for him, just listened and shared what I thought when he asked. I think the conversation would have gone longer if we hadn't been interrupted by his doctor coming in. I was honored and blessed by his trusting me to share his most intimate beliefs and I told him so.

I never know what's going to transpire as I walk into a patient's room and I have to confess, the majority of them are simple, fairly short conversations. But there have been a few that will stick with me, mostly because I'm amazed that perfect strangers will open up to me because of the role I'm in – more of that "awesome responsibility" I keep discovering.

And I continue to be amazed …

Permission

As my phone buzzed me from my sleep I thought, how did my alarm get set vibrate rather than ring? Through one half-opened eye I looked at it and realized simultaneously that it was a call coming in from the hospital and it was 4 am. "Hello," I said as awake and alert as I could manage.

"Is this the Protestant Chaplain on call for <insert name of hospital here>" came the official sounding voice from the other end.

I sat up and said, "yes, this is Nancy" as I forced my brain to pay attention to what was coming next.

"A family on <insert ward #> is asking for a chaplain, the patient is dying."

"Wait, let me write this down." I knew I couldn't rely on my memory at this time of night (or morning, I'm not sure which timeframe 4 am belongs to). I turned on my bedside lamp and reached for my notebook and pen. "Go ahead."

"I'm sorry for waking you, Ma'am."

"No apology needed, I'm on call, it's what you are supposed to do." The official sounding voice laughed and gave me the details. "Please tell the family I'll be there as soon as I can," I said as my mind had already started going through my closet thinking about what I can put on. As I physically opened the closet door I thought of the entry I read in the Beauty Tips for Ministers blog about always keeping one outfit pressed and ready for those middle-of-the-night calls and I wish I had paid better attention to the advice. I grab what doesn't need ironing and pull it on, make my way to the bathroom, put up my bed-head hair as neatly as possible (wasn't oily hair supposed to end sometime in my 30s???), wash the sleep out of my eyes, decide against any makeup beyond a quick dust of powder, put in earrings, and brush my teeth (a very important step I was glad I thought of even if halfway to the hospital I realized I had forgotten to freshen my deodorant).

I got in the car and thought "Oh, dear God, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do!" Which I immediately followed with the prayer "God, you are going to have to give me the words." Thankfully, the drive was uneventful and I even managed to stay within the speed limit.

I entered the darkened room to find two women, one looked about my age and the other older standing beside the bed where the man appeared to be sleeping. I softly whispered who I was. The younger woman, the daughter, stepped away from the bed and explained the situation to me.

"My father is dying," she said. Tears ran down her weary face but her voice was strong. "His breaths are coming further and further apart. He's been in so much pain and we don't want him to suffer any more. We've said our goodbyes to him. Please pray with him so that he knows it's okay to let go."

These words will ring in my ears forever. My mind and heart raced through time to two separate events, years apart yet just as vivid as this event unfolding before me. I remember standing with my grandmother at my granddaddy's bedside and hearing her whisper to him "Shug, if you are ready to go, it's okay." About ten years later, I said similar words to my own mother: "I know you don't want to be this sick and if you are too tired to keep fighting, it's okay." And, now, these people I didn't even know, had never met before walking into this room, were asking me to give their husband and father permission to let go of this life.

I stepped close to the bed, took his hand, placed my other hand on his shoulder, and leaned in close to his ear. "Mr. <patient name> my name is Nancy, I'm the chaplain. Your wife and daughter have asked me to pray with you." I took a deep breath and said a quick silent prayer asking God again to direct my words. "Heavenly Father, please take your son into your arms and relieve him of his suffering." As soon as these words passed my lips I felt his shoulder shake and I thought it was him taking another breath. "Give comfort to his wife and daughter in their sadness. God we know you understand our pain at losing a loved one and even though we can rejoice that <patient name> will no longer suffer but live in your glory, they will grieve losing him. Give them strength, God."

Before I could finish the prayer, his wife says "He's gone, I feel it." For some unknown reason, I respond, "I just felt him breathe" thinking this was the movement I felt. Both the wife and the daughter said they didn't feel anything, that he hadn't moved …

The events of the next three hours were mostly guided by the hospital staff, the doctor coming in to pronounce the time of death, the nurse disconnecting him from all tubes and such and telling the family they could stay with him as long as they needed. I sat with them for about two hours listening to them tell stories of his life amid tears and laughs. Finally, they stood and said they were ready to go and I walked them downstairs to sign the necessary paperwork to allow the hospital and funeral home to coordinate and cooperate. As I walked them to the front of the hospital, the sun was up and it was time for me to start my regular duty day.

I am deeply grateful to have had this experience and touched and thankful for my fellow chaplains who, after only half of my "regular duty day" sent me home to take care of myself, spiritually, emotionally, and physically (although I teased them it was just because they wanted me to shower). Through this event, I realized, again, the awesome responsibility that comes with God's call for my life. I will lead people through the most difficult, as well as the most joyous, spiritual moments of their lives and yet I cannot rely on my own strengths or abilities but those that God gives me for this purpose.

This experience of praying someone through their moment of death will stay with me forever, not in a frightening way but in an awe inspiring way as a testament of God's presence in our lives and physical being. I hope to always be amazed at the way God can build my confidence and humble me at the same time with the same experience.