I just found this article linked on Facebook by a friend of mine. It was in response to an article I had read earlier article that I got from Episcopal Chaplain at the Bedside. Go read all 3. I'll wait.
This is really the most profound thing I have taken away from a summer of CPE. This issue of life, and quality of life is something that came up in my Loss and Grief pastoral care class, but it's at the heart of illness, and how we live, and most importantly, how we die.
After watching patients go through awful things, I went home and did an advance directive. I"m filing it with my doctor and putting a copy in my safe and on my fridge, should the EMTs ever come to my house. I implore you, go do the same. And think about, and talk about, what life and death mean to you with your friends and family.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Back to the Grind
My daddy (my mother calls her dad, daddy too) is back at the nursing home. He was discharged from the hospital today. The doctor said he remembered my name this morning! That is progress and makes me happy. I bet he will be less confused when back home too. He was worried about his roommate, Merv, who is blind.
I went back to work yesterday and it was good. It was hard to go to one of my units, because Monday, a long-time patient of mine died there. But I did it. I have a whole new bunch of patients there that I am coming to know and love.
Today we had a full day of patient visits and I got to see 9. We also had a workshop on gang violence. Whew.
Tomorrow I rest and practice my...
Sermon! That I am preaching at my home church on Sunday! I am excited and nervous. It means a lot to me to be asked to preach there, my home, my support, where my church family is. I did opening words as a worship associate last summer and knew that I was in the right place.
It is good to be home, I miss my daddy, and am grateful for all your prayers and good thoughts. I have felt lifted up by them and they have helped me to get through this week.
Shalom.
I went back to work yesterday and it was good. It was hard to go to one of my units, because Monday, a long-time patient of mine died there. But I did it. I have a whole new bunch of patients there that I am coming to know and love.
Today we had a full day of patient visits and I got to see 9. We also had a workshop on gang violence. Whew.
Tomorrow I rest and practice my...
Sermon! That I am preaching at my home church on Sunday! I am excited and nervous. It means a lot to me to be asked to preach there, my home, my support, where my church family is. I did opening words as a worship associate last summer and knew that I was in the right place.
It is good to be home, I miss my daddy, and am grateful for all your prayers and good thoughts. I have felt lifted up by them and they have helped me to get through this week.
Shalom.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Home again
In a whirlwind of travel, intensive CPE, and family illness, I have been to PA and back to NY in 24 hours, while spending just as much, and possibly more time in a hospital room then I would have in NY.
My father is medically stable. They are continuing to do tests. He had an EKG today, and will have a follow up CT scan tomorrow. He is terribly confused and has no recognition of anyone but me (and he doesn't remember my name), or even his distant past and childhood, which worries me.
I hated to leave, I hated to stay. I feel torn in two between my two homes. I was horribly homesick for both places in transit, both ways. I can't wait to go back, I dread going back.
The full-time chaplain, an Episcopalian priest, came and met with my dad and I, and I am much reassured. She promised me she would see him every day while he's there, and understood dementia and confusion and was patient and loving with him. He even oriented enough to ask her a Bible joke! (What 3 nuns are mentioned in the Bible?)
It was so hard to say goodbye to my dad. I told him how much I love him, and that he is a great dad. He got all teared up, which I have never seen him do. I didn't quite know what to make of it, but it was very moving.
He became agitated this afternoon and required a lot of redirection and supervision as he refused to wear his oxygen and kept trying to leave to "go home." They assigned him a 1:1 aide today but now he's sleeping and they just have the bed alarm on. Hopefully the Seroquel will keep him out for the night.
I now know what all that free floating anxiety I was feeling on Tuesday (yesterday?!) was about. My family has a history of being slightly psychic with each other (weird, and unbelievable and magical I know). But there you have it.
I wonder what tomorrow will bring? I know one thing is a run in the morning, a chance to see patients, and juggling phone calls with the hospital in PA. Being in the sandwich generation is no picnic (pun intended).
My father is medically stable. They are continuing to do tests. He had an EKG today, and will have a follow up CT scan tomorrow. He is terribly confused and has no recognition of anyone but me (and he doesn't remember my name), or even his distant past and childhood, which worries me.
I hated to leave, I hated to stay. I feel torn in two between my two homes. I was horribly homesick for both places in transit, both ways. I can't wait to go back, I dread going back.
The full-time chaplain, an Episcopalian priest, came and met with my dad and I, and I am much reassured. She promised me she would see him every day while he's there, and understood dementia and confusion and was patient and loving with him. He even oriented enough to ask her a Bible joke! (What 3 nuns are mentioned in the Bible?)
It was so hard to say goodbye to my dad. I told him how much I love him, and that he is a great dad. He got all teared up, which I have never seen him do. I didn't quite know what to make of it, but it was very moving.
He became agitated this afternoon and required a lot of redirection and supervision as he refused to wear his oxygen and kept trying to leave to "go home." They assigned him a 1:1 aide today but now he's sleeping and they just have the bed alarm on. Hopefully the Seroquel will keep him out for the night.
I now know what all that free floating anxiety I was feeling on Tuesday (yesterday?!) was about. My family has a history of being slightly psychic with each other (weird, and unbelievable and magical I know). But there you have it.
I wonder what tomorrow will bring? I know one thing is a run in the morning, a chance to see patients, and juggling phone calls with the hospital in PA. Being in the sandwich generation is no picnic (pun intended).
Walking in those shoes
I got a all at the end of the workday yesterday that my dad was having some sort of mini-stroke at his nursing home. I had them call the ambulance, and then called the hospital to give them my contact info, and set up some local people to come to the hospital and be with him.
He did indeed have a TIA and is still pretty confused, and getting a bit agitated. For those that know his history, he already has brain damage from an aneurism, and has age-brain-damage-related dementia, and lives in a nursing home.
I talked to his doctor this morning who was encouraging, but I didn't see the improvement I was led to believe I would from talking to the doctor. Things are better, incrementally, than last night, but certainly not back to baseline.
As a chaplaincy intern, I did request a chaplain visit, something I've never done before. A volunteer chaplain came to visit and I learned a whole lot about what not to do ever again (if I ever did any of these things):
1. Do ask if you can stay and visit - don't just come in, get the name wrong, and then attempt to flee
2. Do ask about religious preference, don't tell me about yours, unless I ask
3. Do ask if the patient would like another visit
4. Do ask if the patient/family would like to pray (I fail to do this all the time, but sure would have been comforted by the offer this morning, even as a non-Christian).
5. Don't be intimidated by patients who are confused. They still like visitors and like to talk, even if they don't make sense to you.
6. Oh, and introduce yourself FIRST thing - don't make me guess who you are and what you want.
All that said, I'm glad she came, and hope she sends the full time chaplain up, as she promised. I'd really like someone to be able to sit with my dad, even for 10 minutes, after I can't be here.
The doctor said that if things stay stable, it would be fair for me to head home and monitor events from there. As I said, I'm not entirely encouraged by 'progress' from last night, but the next 5 hours should show a lot - 24 hours is supposed to show how things are going. I'm still waiting on results from his carotid artery ultrasound, and he'll have another CT scan tomorrow.
Thanks for all the prayers and good wishes on facebook. They mean everything. I miss my family like crazy, and owe a huge thank you to my daughter Emma, who packed my overnight bag and put everything I needed in it. She really is a mini-clone of me sometimes :). Love you girl.
He did indeed have a TIA and is still pretty confused, and getting a bit agitated. For those that know his history, he already has brain damage from an aneurism, and has age-brain-damage-related dementia, and lives in a nursing home.
I talked to his doctor this morning who was encouraging, but I didn't see the improvement I was led to believe I would from talking to the doctor. Things are better, incrementally, than last night, but certainly not back to baseline.
As a chaplaincy intern, I did request a chaplain visit, something I've never done before. A volunteer chaplain came to visit and I learned a whole lot about what not to do ever again (if I ever did any of these things):
1. Do ask if you can stay and visit - don't just come in, get the name wrong, and then attempt to flee
2. Do ask about religious preference, don't tell me about yours, unless I ask
3. Do ask if the patient would like another visit
4. Do ask if the patient/family would like to pray (I fail to do this all the time, but sure would have been comforted by the offer this morning, even as a non-Christian).
5. Don't be intimidated by patients who are confused. They still like visitors and like to talk, even if they don't make sense to you.
6. Oh, and introduce yourself FIRST thing - don't make me guess who you are and what you want.
All that said, I'm glad she came, and hope she sends the full time chaplain up, as she promised. I'd really like someone to be able to sit with my dad, even for 10 minutes, after I can't be here.
The doctor said that if things stay stable, it would be fair for me to head home and monitor events from there. As I said, I'm not entirely encouraged by 'progress' from last night, but the next 5 hours should show a lot - 24 hours is supposed to show how things are going. I'm still waiting on results from his carotid artery ultrasound, and he'll have another CT scan tomorrow.
Thanks for all the prayers and good wishes on facebook. They mean everything. I miss my family like crazy, and owe a huge thank you to my daughter Emma, who packed my overnight bag and put everything I needed in it. She really is a mini-clone of me sometimes :). Love you girl.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
All About Me
I had an interesting (yet exhausting) day.
We had group consultation and self care, which is where all the interns get together and work in a specific process to work through difficult cases, interactions, role play, or just get to share something. I got angry at something someone said. I noted that I had a strong reaction and shared it (not a join, a difference, says the process), and let the rest of the interaction play out. I had to leave the room at the end. I was in tears, and couldn't bring myself to move to the next part of the group.
I spent some time in the chapel crying, and then called my husband, and questioned my whole calling, then I went to lunch, had an interesting phone call (more on that later), and then met with my supervisor after I visited my floors.
He said, quite astutely, "Do you feel like you're doing CPE?"
Um, yep, I feel it.
He said, "Good, because you are really doing it."
I am discovering so many gender complications coming up this summer, working in a group of 5 men and 2 women. Finding a way to be angry and not feel guilty (or like a bitch) is hard as a woman (and for me specifically). I didn't have good role models for anger. However, my supervisor affirmed that I handled it appropriately, but allowed my own discomfort to "boomerang" and called it - I spent my afternoon feeling depressed and exhausted. My, he's a smart human being!
I did indeed spend my afternoon feeling depressed and exhausted, and he encouraged me to leave a little early and to do something nice for myself - to avoid even further boomerang activity feeling guilty and down about letting myself be depressed and exhausted all afternoon. Really, he is a smart guy.
I did handle my anger appropriately. We are encouraged to get out of our "person" system - or in lay terms, to not get caught up in our own emotions only when in an interaction - and to be in an "observer system" where we can have some transparency between what we're thinking and what we're feeling, and can both observe, note, and interact with awareness about how our own past experience is informing the current interaction. Fascinating, exhausting, and vital for ministry.
I'm pretty good at it, actually, but that doesn't make it easy all the time. As a matter of fact, it has a way of making me question my own authenticity, when I am feeling one way and noting it, and yet able to stay in a pastoral role (which is authentic, but it just feels weird afterwards).
In any event I realized that when I do the loving-kindness part of my meditation each day, I have never once started out with L-K for myself (?)! I find it difficult to do it even now that I'm aware of it. I have a decent self-image, yet I have a hard time even figuring out how I feel about this. I find it quite bizarre actually. And uncomfortable to send my own self L-K. But I have to. I see that.
So lots of good growth and such, but yeah, I'm exhausted.
My phone call that I mentioned earlier was good .It was unexpected - someone checking in with me to close a loop that made them uncomfortable. There was an attempt by that person to triangulate, which I was able to deflect, and it was all really positive. And I realize that it's all about me.
That person I got angry at? Not what they said, or how they said it. It was my past experience that created an authentic reaction to it. My ability to honor someone reaching out to me and also deflect some negative behaviors is about me too.
I'm growing, becoming, and well....seeking. Yes, I'm doing CPE.
We had group consultation and self care, which is where all the interns get together and work in a specific process to work through difficult cases, interactions, role play, or just get to share something. I got angry at something someone said. I noted that I had a strong reaction and shared it (not a join, a difference, says the process), and let the rest of the interaction play out. I had to leave the room at the end. I was in tears, and couldn't bring myself to move to the next part of the group.
I spent some time in the chapel crying, and then called my husband, and questioned my whole calling, then I went to lunch, had an interesting phone call (more on that later), and then met with my supervisor after I visited my floors.
He said, quite astutely
Um, yep, I feel it.
He said, "Good, because you are really doing it."
I am discovering so many gender complications coming up this summer, working in a group of 5 men and 2 women. Finding a way to be angry and not feel guilty (or like a bitch) is hard as a woman (and for me specifically). I didn't have good role models for anger. However, my supervisor affirmed that I handled it appropriately, but allowed my own discomfort to "boomerang" and called it - I spent my afternoon feeling depressed and exhausted. My, he's a smart human being!
I did indeed spend my afternoon feeling depressed and exhausted, and he encouraged me to leave a little early and to do something nice for myself - to avoid even further boomerang activity feeling guilty and down about letting myself be depressed and exhausted all afternoon. Really, he is a smart guy.
I did handle my anger appropriately. We are encouraged to get out of our "person" system - or in lay terms, to not get caught up in our own emotions only when in an interaction - and to be in an "observer system" where we can have some transparency between what we're thinking and what we're feeling, and can both observe, note, and interact with awareness about how our own past experience is informing the current interaction. Fascinating, exhausting, and vital for ministry.
I'm pretty good at it, actually, but that doesn't make it easy all the time. As a matter of fact, it has a way of making me question my own authenticity, when I am feeling one way and noting it, and yet able to stay in a pastoral role (which is authentic, but it just feels weird afterwards).
In any event I realized that when I do the loving-kindness part of my meditation each day, I have never once started out with L-K for myself (?)! I find it difficult to do it even now that I'm aware of it. I have a decent self-image, yet I have a hard time even figuring out how I feel about this. I find it quite bizarre actually. And uncomfortable to send my own self L-K. But I have to. I see that.
So lots of good growth and such, but yeah, I'm exhausted.
My phone call that I mentioned earlier was good .It was unexpected - someone checking in with me to close a loop that made them uncomfortable. There was an attempt by that person to triangulate, which I was able to deflect, and it was all really positive. And I realize that it's all about me.
That person I got angry at? Not what they said, or how they said it. It was my past experience that created an authentic reaction to it. My ability to honor someone reaching out to me and also deflect some negative behaviors is about me too.
I'm growing, becoming, and well....seeking. Yes, I'm doing CPE.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Life experience
A large part of CPE is understanding and being open to how our personal life experience informs our interactions with patients. My supervisor asks us to think about Who Am I? Who is the Patient? Who are we together?
When I walk into a room, I bring not just my role, but my life with me, whether I share it or not. The patient's interaction with me is based on their experience with religion, spirituality, authority, illness, prayer, etc. And those two people create a whole new experience that will inform future interactions.
This is true outside of CPE too, of course. My interactions with people in my life which have included abuse, violence, alcoholism, love, support, etc. all play into my day to day life. CPE has pointed this out to me in a variety of ways. I have had stories from other chaplains move me to tears because they touched my own story in some way. I have met with patients and family, and have felt protective and even angry on their behalf - or at them due to my own past.
An awareness of how our experiences moves inside of us at all times is vital. It doesn't have to define us any longer, but it certainly informs us. Recently, I had a family member that I spent about an hour with, and they drove me crazy. They were misinformed about a number of things that I am familiar with, they were sexist, uncouth, and immature. For some time, I warred inside myself with my desire to find some way to gracefully exit the room, but knew that the people in the room needed me. At one point, I was feeling pretty useless, but still holding the energy, holding as much love and peace as I could, and the person turned to me (they weren't sure they wanted me there initially), and said with great warmth, "It really does help to have you here."
Well, that's why I am doing this work. Because despite my own history and reactions to people, my intention is to be pastoral and loving - it felt like a real win to have been able to acknowledge my feelings in the moment, face head on my desire to leave, and to stick it out with intention and love, and to have it validated! How powerful.
In non-CPE life, I am having a lot of these same reactions to a variety of people, and I'm trying to hold that same intention. i keep reminding myself, that just as I don't get paid to put up with stuff in real life, I don't get paid for my internship either ;) (that's a joke!) Intentionality in life is a daily practice - it's easier sometimes in the specific atmosphere of chaplaincy work, but it's good training for the rest of life.
When I walk into a room, I bring not just my role, but my life with me, whether I share it or not. The patient's interaction with me is based on their experience with religion, spirituality, authority, illness, prayer, etc. And those two people create a whole new experience that will inform future interactions.
This is true outside of CPE too, of course. My interactions with people in my life which have included abuse, violence, alcoholism, love, support, etc. all play into my day to day life. CPE has pointed this out to me in a variety of ways. I have had stories from other chaplains move me to tears because they touched my own story in some way. I have met with patients and family, and have felt protective and even angry on their behalf - or at them due to my own past.
An awareness of how our experiences moves inside of us at all times is vital. It doesn't have to define us any longer, but it certainly informs us. Recently, I had a family member that I spent about an hour with, and they drove me crazy. They were misinformed about a number of things that I am familiar with, they were sexist, uncouth, and immature. For some time, I warred inside myself with my desire to find some way to gracefully exit the room, but knew that the people in the room needed me. At one point, I was feeling pretty useless, but still holding the energy, holding as much love and peace as I could, and the person turned to me (they weren't sure they wanted me there initially), and said with great warmth, "It really does help to have you here."
Well, that's why I am doing this work. Because despite my own history and reactions to people, my intention is to be pastoral and loving - it felt like a real win to have been able to acknowledge my feelings in the moment, face head on my desire to leave, and to stick it out with intention and love, and to have it validated! How powerful.
In non-CPE life, I am having a lot of these same reactions to a variety of people, and I'm trying to hold that same intention. i keep reminding myself, that just as I don't get paid to put up with stuff in real life, I don't get paid for my internship either ;) (that's a joke!) Intentionality in life is a daily practice - it's easier sometimes in the specific atmosphere of chaplaincy work, but it's good training for the rest of life.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Sleepless in Strong
Wow, what a night. I find that on-call shifts are so intense when they are busy. I had 10 pages between 4:30pm and 8:30 a.m., only to sleep between 6 and 8a.m. By the time I left, I was totally drained. I had 4 traumas, including two violent incidents, one which was quite disturbing. I had a tragic fetal death - my first infant death, which I have been dreading. The baby was so tiny - 2 lbs - and perfectly formed. It broke my heart and I was grateful that the mother was sedated - at least there was a short delay in her grief. She woke up briefly and asked, "Where?" and I filled with sorrow for her.
The NICU and trauma staff are amazing. I have found such wonderful relationships with the medical staff. The social work staff is a bit more ambiguous at times. Especially in the emergency department, I often feel unwelcome, or at the very least, drastically misunderstood. We are often seen as walking with death, something I don't feel at all. Often my role is to simply hold the energy in a space - to provide presence and silent affirmation of the important work and emotions at play there.
I also had 3 deaths, at which I sat with families, prayed, and even cried with them. I had a family member agonizing over treatment of their sick spouse.
"What should I do?" was the question of the night, straight from raw grief. "What comes next?" "This sucks." "How do I go on?"
I don't have good answers for these questions. I know that grief is overwhelming, that it can only be dealt with a day, an hour, a minute at a time. Sometimes it threatens to drown you.
On-call shifts leave me feeling vulnerable and raw myself. No sleep plus giving every ounce of my spirit to room after room - 20 patients and families in 24 hours - leaves me filled with gratitude for my own health, my family, and my inner resources. It also leaves me depleted and too tired to figure out how to do more than weep sometimes. I am generally good at leaving it at the hospital, but I agonized a bit this morning before finally falling asleep at home, safe in my own bed.
Even before the night, we had a long morning of reflection and mid-unit evaluations. It got a bit heated at the end, which was difficult for me to witness. But I continue to feel blessed at having a great group of interns to work with. It is easy to be authentic with them.
I'm useless today - worked online for a bit, ate some cereal, and am going to veg out with some 24 episodes. Self care after all, comes in many forms!
The NICU and trauma staff are amazing. I have found such wonderful relationships with the medical staff. The social work staff is a bit more ambiguous at times. Especially in the emergency department, I often feel unwelcome, or at the very least, drastically misunderstood. We are often seen as walking with death, something I don't feel at all. Often my role is to simply hold the energy in a space - to provide presence and silent affirmation of the important work and emotions at play there.
I also had 3 deaths, at which I sat with families, prayed, and even cried with them. I had a family member agonizing over treatment of their sick spouse.
"What should I do?" was the question of the night, straight from raw grief. "What comes next?" "This sucks." "How do I go on?"
I don't have good answers for these questions. I know that grief is overwhelming, that it can only be dealt with a day, an hour, a minute at a time. Sometimes it threatens to drown you.
On-call shifts leave me feeling vulnerable and raw myself. No sleep plus giving every ounce of my spirit to room after room - 20 patients and families in 24 hours - leaves me filled with gratitude for my own health, my family, and my inner resources. It also leaves me depleted and too tired to figure out how to do more than weep sometimes. I am generally good at leaving it at the hospital, but I agonized a bit this morning before finally falling asleep at home, safe in my own bed.
Even before the night, we had a long morning of reflection and mid-unit evaluations. It got a bit heated at the end, which was difficult for me to witness. But I continue to feel blessed at having a great group of interns to work with. It is easy to be authentic with them.
I'm useless today - worked online for a bit, ate some cereal, and am going to veg out with some 24 episodes. Self care after all, comes in many forms!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Silence
I haven't been posting much. Burning the candle at both ends, but I'm still here. I think of all the things I'd like to write, but my brain is on overload with CPE didactics, and all my patients that I see, plus my part-time job in the evenings, plus parenting. (Which is So Much Fun, because Jude is learning to READ! So exciting!)
Anyway, I've passed the halfway mark of CPE. It seems like I've been there forever, and also like no time at all has passed and I can't believe it will be over before I know it. In some ways, I wish I could continue on and do a full year residency now, but I'm also very much looking forward to my congregational internship.
I just can't say enough about how thoughtful and intentional the CPE program is at URMC Strong Hospital. I'm learning so much, being challenged by my supervisors and peers, and growing in many ways. I now have some patients I've been following for over a month and those connections are deep.
I am finding my passion again, after the exhaustion of the first year of seminary - my excitement and joy at serving. It's just that it's also taking up all my energy. I will be ready for a vacation before traveling to Chicago again in September!
The kids are surviving remarkably well, and actually have a better routine now then when I was in school. I hope to keep the momentum up in the fall!
Anyway, I'm brain dead, but maybe I can focus again over the weekend!
Anyway, I've passed the halfway mark of CPE. It seems like I've been there forever, and also like no time at all has passed and I can't believe it will be over before I know it. In some ways, I wish I could continue on and do a full year residency now, but I'm also very much looking forward to my congregational internship.
I just can't say enough about how thoughtful and intentional the CPE program is at URMC Strong Hospital. I'm learning so much, being challenged by my supervisors and peers, and growing in many ways. I now have some patients I've been following for over a month and those connections are deep.
I am finding my passion again, after the exhaustion of the first year of seminary - my excitement and joy at serving. It's just that it's also taking up all my energy. I will be ready for a vacation before traveling to Chicago again in September!
The kids are surviving remarkably well, and actually have a better routine now then when I was in school. I hope to keep the momentum up in the fall!
Anyway, I'm brain dead, but maybe I can focus again over the weekend!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
On becoming
I remember when I first went to visit a spiritual director as part of small group ministry that I was involved in two years ago, and I told her, "I have done so much growing already...it's sometimes frustrating when I get glimpses of how much more I have to do." Chaplaincy training is another place where you face that realization just about every day.
Another conversation that ended up being very true was when the student chaplain at Meadville Lombard told my triad group (my triad met weekly for course work, and met with the chaplain monthly) that seminary was in a lot of ways a way of breaking us down into small pieces so we could put them all back together again - theologically, emotionally, sometimes even physically, due to the intense need for self care.
When I was a child, I was Catholic, and I had transcendent experiences of God. I had faith in a supernatural Father, and I prayed to Him, and felt His presence in my life. At some point though, existential questions of suffering in my life, and perhaps even a biology of atheism, took away that personal relationship with a Christian God (and it was always a relationship with God, not with Jesus, or even Mary, which is perhaps why it was so natural to become a Unitarian Universalist).
I continued to have transcendental experiences in my life - moments of becoming, of growing, of mystical connection with other people, with nature, with something more - and those experiences are what keep me an agnostic, that make me a person who is aware of the unknown, and of possibility, while still subscribing to Occam's Razor. In a recent post about prayer, I explored some of my thoughts about prayer as a person of non-traditional faith, and I refound this quote that spoke to me. As a religious humanist, I am a cosmic theist, in that I believe in the transcendent immanence of God, which some might call panentheism. However, I have not felt that personal transcendent experience of God (and I realize that is a loaded word) very often as an adult.
I remember being about 10, during the Cold War, and thinking about how infinitely stupid adults were, as a I lay awake, fearful of bombs falling on my house or my school. And I remember an image of physically tucking that thought away into the back of my 10 year old mind, and telling myself that I would never forget to realize that adults were stupid. That we complicate things unnecessarily for ourselves, which results in all sorts of negative consequences in our lives, our social networks, our world. More on this later.
This morning, when I was meditating, I felt God (again, that loaded word, especially for me, as an agnostic) as a presence. I believe in connections, in something greater than the sum our our living, aware parts. And that not only showed up for me this morning but has been with me, as a presence, in the room, all day. It's kind of frightening actually - I mean, I actually thought, perhaps I am having a mental breakdown of some sort ;).But, I am a levelheaded kind of gal, and I am pretty sure I know how this actual feeling of presence has come back into my life.
For some time now, I have been wrestling with prayer, my love of Catholic tradition from my childhood, and with how to make my daily spiritual practice more meaningful, which I have, through ritualistic meditation each day. But it hasn't been until the last 4 weeks of chaplaincy that I have prayed, really prayed with people. And the part where being as a child (as Jesus himself would remind us) comes in, is that it doesn't have to be complicated. I don't have to get caught up in the words God, or Jesus, or Christ, or heaven, or sin. My role as a chaplain is to be present with people, to help them be, to serve with humility. It doesn't really matter what I believe in that moment - it matters that I can connect with that person, and that we create something through our relationship in that moment. If I can let go of my baggage about semantics (and as a writer and editor for many years, many that know me well will know that's a difficult task), and just be in the moment of wonder and (God) and creation, then that has the potential to become transcendent.
This prayer that I have been engaged in and wrestled with, and felt awkward in and powerful in - that has changed my spiritual practice. Again:
"When I pray, the humanist in me is patient but nonplussed, asking who I think I am talking to, and I reply that I don't know, but I do it anyway, my breath casting words into the seemingly unanswering air. Perhaps it is only my need to make the universe personal and intimate. I know myself to be a personal and intimate being, and it seems not totally impossible that the powers which cast me with these qualities, which enables me to be both rational and poetic, may be the same as I, writ large." -- Frances E. West
Humanism is a based on reason and compassion - but that religious piece of humanism does not have to exclude God (or at least I take the liberty as a UU to say so).
And the question is so what? Why do I do this ministry? Now that I can catch my breath in week four, when I can think again about congregational work, community work, and chaplaincy, it becomes very clear that my moral authority as a minister is in not only becoming more authentically myself, but in journeying with others in their own journey of becoming. It's about right relation as a position of moral authority, and about radical hospitality. As a ministry, radical hospitality is breaking down that sin of disconnection that is the root of so much human pain and suffering. Ministry is about finding a theology that makes sense of that sin - not in the sense of predestination, or bargaining with some higher power, or even understanding it - but making sense of it and figuring out how to live our lives that we have the best we can.
One day, I dropped my son off at his Waldorf program and one of the church staff (where we meet) was being (in my mind) quite rude to a new mom who had parked in the wrong place. I was pretty ticked off about his behavior, and my son's teacher, Lynne, who is just a gentle saint of a woman, put her hand on my arm and gently said, "He's doing the best he can." In the moment, that answer didn't feel like enough, but now it does. Ministry is about helping people do the best they can, without judgment and with humility. And that includes me. Sometimes the best I can do doesn't feel like very much, but that's OK sometimes.
Another conversation that ended up being very true was when the student chaplain at Meadville Lombard told my triad group (my triad met weekly for course work, and met with the chaplain monthly) that seminary was in a lot of ways a way of breaking us down into small pieces so we could put them all back together again - theologically, emotionally, sometimes even physically, due to the intense need for self care.
When I was a child, I was Catholic, and I had transcendent experiences of God. I had faith in a supernatural Father, and I prayed to Him, and felt His presence in my life. At some point though, existential questions of suffering in my life, and perhaps even a biology of atheism, took away that personal relationship with a Christian God (and it was always a relationship with God, not with Jesus, or even Mary, which is perhaps why it was so natural to become a Unitarian Universalist).
I continued to have transcendental experiences in my life - moments of becoming, of growing, of mystical connection with other people, with nature, with something more - and those experiences are what keep me an agnostic, that make me a person who is aware of the unknown, and of possibility, while still subscribing to Occam's Razor. In a recent post about prayer, I explored some of my thoughts about prayer as a person of non-traditional faith, and I refound this quote that spoke to me. As a religious humanist, I am a cosmic theist, in that I believe in the transcendent immanence of God, which some might call panentheism. However, I have not felt that personal transcendent experience of God (and I realize that is a loaded word) very often as an adult.
I remember being about 10, during the Cold War, and thinking about how infinitely stupid adults were, as a I lay awake, fearful of bombs falling on my house or my school. And I remember an image of physically tucking that thought away into the back of my 10 year old mind, and telling myself that I would never forget to realize that adults were stupid. That we complicate things unnecessarily for ourselves, which results in all sorts of negative consequences in our lives, our social networks, our world. More on this later.
This morning, when I was meditating, I felt God (again, that loaded word, especially for me, as an agnostic) as a presence. I believe in connections, in something greater than the sum our our living, aware parts. And that not only showed up for me this morning but has been with me, as a presence, in the room, all day. It's kind of frightening actually - I mean, I actually thought, perhaps I am having a mental breakdown of some sort ;).But, I am a levelheaded kind of gal, and I am pretty sure I know how this actual feeling of presence has come back into my life.
For some time now, I have been wrestling with prayer, my love of Catholic tradition from my childhood, and with how to make my daily spiritual practice more meaningful, which I have, through ritualistic meditation each day. But it hasn't been until the last 4 weeks of chaplaincy that I have prayed, really prayed with people. And the part where being as a child (as Jesus himself would remind us) comes in, is that it doesn't have to be complicated. I don't have to get caught up in the words God, or Jesus, or Christ, or heaven, or sin. My role as a chaplain is to be present with people, to help them be, to serve with humility. It doesn't really matter what I believe in that moment - it matters that I can connect with that person, and that we create something through our relationship in that moment. If I can let go of my baggage about semantics (and as a writer and editor for many years, many that know me well will know that's a difficult task), and just be in the moment of wonder and (God) and creation, then that has the potential to become transcendent.
This prayer that I have been engaged in and wrestled with, and felt awkward in and powerful in - that has changed my spiritual practice. Again:
"When I pray, the humanist in me is patient but nonplussed, asking who I think I am talking to, and I reply that I don't know, but I do it anyway, my breath casting words into the seemingly unanswering air. Perhaps it is only my need to make the universe personal and intimate. I know myself to be a personal and intimate being, and it seems not totally impossible that the powers which cast me with these qualities, which enables me to be both rational and poetic, may be the same as I, writ large." -- Frances E. West
Humanism is a based on reason and compassion - but that religious piece of humanism does not have to exclude God (or at least I take the liberty as a UU to say so).
And the question is so what? Why do I do this ministry? Now that I can catch my breath in week four, when I can think again about congregational work, community work, and chaplaincy, it becomes very clear that my moral authority as a minister is in not only becoming more authentically myself, but in journeying with others in their own journey of becoming. It's about right relation as a position of moral authority, and about radical hospitality. As a ministry, radical hospitality is breaking down that sin of disconnection that is the root of so much human pain and suffering. Ministry is about finding a theology that makes sense of that sin - not in the sense of predestination, or bargaining with some higher power, or even understanding it - but making sense of it and figuring out how to live our lives that we have the best we can.
One day, I dropped my son off at his Waldorf program and one of the church staff (where we meet) was being (in my mind) quite rude to a new mom who had parked in the wrong place. I was pretty ticked off about his behavior, and my son's teacher, Lynne, who is just a gentle saint of a woman, put her hand on my arm and gently said, "He's doing the best he can." In the moment, that answer didn't feel like enough, but now it does. Ministry is about helping people do the best they can, without judgment and with humility. And that includes me. Sometimes the best I can do doesn't feel like very much, but that's OK sometimes.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Systems of privilege
I completed my first 24-hour on-call yesterday, and my friend David did his on Saturday. Between the two of us, and our colleague Mike, it was a violent weekend. I read with interest the local blog about riding with an ambulance as well.
I was driving my daughter's friend to our house today (we've got two friends spending the next day or two, which is amazing fun), and she was interested in what I am doing. She asked me, astutely (and desperate not to sound racist), if a lot of the patients who were victims of violence were people of color. And that is astute, because as we talked, we explored the interconnected systems of privilege that create a situation of violence and inequality.
There is of course, race. And perhaps more importantly, class. Access to education. Income. Access to jobs. Affordable housing. Trust (or lack thereof) in law enforcement. Jaded social workers. And the frustration that comes with all of these issues, creating hair trigger tempers based on a lifetime of living with less - and being looked down on all the while. This is one of those conversations that is inherently depressing, because it becomes difficult, if not impossible, to see a solution. It reminds me of the need to lower our expectations - yes, lower them, as Sharon Welch tells us in A Feminist Ethic of Risk. Because each small success is so important. And it's vital not to get burned out.
Today, in didactics, we had an interesting discussion about the NYTimes article regarding pacemakers as well. It occurs to me as I travel the hospital, that our technology, meant to save lives, sometimes creates ethical situations that turn a culture of healing into a culture of life with questionable quality.
I love ministry so much. Walking next to someone as they become. That is the gift. Midwifing families not through birth, but through death. That is a privilege. It's a hard choice - being called. This process of discernment about my path will be at least another 3 years in the making. But I can feel myself becoming. I am 10 times the minister I was 3 weeks ago.
Now if I could just get some inspiration for the 3 sermons I have to write to preach this summer. Time is running out and my brain is mush. One would think that I would feel passionately about so many things that I could write about them to share with congregations. But honestly, I'm just tired. A good tired though.
I was driving my daughter's friend to our house today (we've got two friends spending the next day or two, which is amazing fun), and she was interested in what I am doing. She asked me, astutely (and desperate not to sound racist), if a lot of the patients who were victims of violence were people of color. And that is astute, because as we talked, we explored the interconnected systems of privilege that create a situation of violence and inequality.
There is of course, race. And perhaps more importantly, class. Access to education. Income. Access to jobs. Affordable housing. Trust (or lack thereof) in law enforcement. Jaded social workers. And the frustration that comes with all of these issues, creating hair trigger tempers based on a lifetime of living with less - and being looked down on all the while. This is one of those conversations that is inherently depressing, because it becomes difficult, if not impossible, to see a solution. It reminds me of the need to lower our expectations - yes, lower them, as Sharon Welch tells us in A Feminist Ethic of Risk. Because each small success is so important. And it's vital not to get burned out.
Today, in didactics, we had an interesting discussion about the NYTimes article regarding pacemakers as well. It occurs to me as I travel the hospital, that our technology, meant to save lives, sometimes creates ethical situations that turn a culture of healing into a culture of life with questionable quality.
I love ministry so much. Walking next to someone as they become. That is the gift. Midwifing families not through birth, but through death. That is a privilege. It's a hard choice - being called. This process of discernment about my path will be at least another 3 years in the making. But I can feel myself becoming. I am 10 times the minister I was 3 weeks ago.
Now if I could just get some inspiration for the 3 sermons I have to write to preach this summer. Time is running out and my brain is mush. One would think that I would feel passionately about so many things that I could write about them to share with congregations. But honestly, I'm just tired. A good tired though.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Prayer
This morning, I led the morning prayer on... prayer. I had a section from one of Anthony Bloom's books, which I now seem to have misplaced, on the importance of prayer coming from within. The importance of authenticity. These are things I have been reflecting on quite a bit, as I am called to pray with and for others on a regular basis. At first, I felt intimidated by the seemingly easy, and well-known prayers of my more traditional Christian colleagues.
I have also found solace and comfort in sharing the prayers of my Catholic childhood with patients. The woman I visit who can barely speak but works so hard to ask me for the "Our Father." How could I not see the joy it brings her to hear it. Or the Psalms. There are so many of them that offer comfort in our darkest hour.
What of our own readings that our faith has claimed? Or our own heartfelt prayers? I am trying to collect a little book of them, and it's so helpful to those in times of need, and to me as I minister to them. It is amazing to me how powerful prayer is. It's not something I've used as a spiritual practice often over the last 25 years, but it's fascinating to reclaim it as a tool of ministry.
Prayer has layers and depths that I never wrestled with theologically until now. It's a fascinating journey.
I have also found solace and comfort in sharing the prayers of my Catholic childhood with patients. The woman I visit who can barely speak but works so hard to ask me for the "Our Father." How could I not see the joy it brings her to hear it. Or the Psalms. There are so many of them that offer comfort in our darkest hour.
What of our own readings that our faith has claimed? Or our own heartfelt prayers? I am trying to collect a little book of them, and it's so helpful to those in times of need, and to me as I minister to them. It is amazing to me how powerful prayer is. It's not something I've used as a spiritual practice often over the last 25 years, but it's fascinating to reclaim it as a tool of ministry.
Prayer has layers and depths that I never wrestled with theologically until now. It's a fascinating journey.
Friday, June 11, 2010
A Theology of Wonder
In the morning light
I am sometimes offered a moment of grace
A moment when I become aware
of how very small I am
in the expanse of sky above me
I become aware of God
in the arc of the universe that I can sense
but not see
I feel a cellular response within my very body
as if my physical, most primordial self
can sense its microcosm too
in the face of my inner universe
Sometimes I see the mother and her spotted fawn
lift their heads in alarm
as I walk by in that morning light
Feel that they are closer to God
in their connection to the grass, the earth, their trails through the woods
than I will ever be
With my intellect, my complicated emotion, my desire for understanding
Simple grace is standing in that moment of awe
Knowing that death is around any corner
but that life is right here
waiting for me to take that next step
into it
I am sometimes offered a moment of grace
A moment when I become aware
of how very small I am
in the expanse of sky above me
I become aware of God
in the arc of the universe that I can sense
but not see
I feel a cellular response within my very body
as if my physical, most primordial self
can sense its microcosm too
in the face of my inner universe
Sometimes I see the mother and her spotted fawn
lift their heads in alarm
as I walk by in that morning light
Feel that they are closer to God
in their connection to the grass, the earth, their trails through the woods
than I will ever be
With my intellect, my complicated emotion, my desire for understanding
Simple grace is standing in that moment of awe
Knowing that death is around any corner
but that life is right here
waiting for me to take that next step
into it
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Walking with Life and Death
Everyone told me that Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE here on out) would transform me. I have only begun to touch the surface of that I think. I had my first on-call shift last night and was up most of the night with families. My daylight hours were mostly spent bolstering hope, praying with families, and finding supports and answers, even in the face of dreaded news.
The nighttime is when I walked with death though. Most of the night was spent honoring those that had passed on to the next part of their journey, comforting their grieving families and being present to the losses that we face in the darkest hours before dawn.
After an exhausting night, we presented verbatims, and I am so grateful to our amazing and subtle supervisor. He has a gift for bringing out the gifts that are inherent in our growing edges. The opportunities that we have are what he sees in every interaction, not to dwell on what could have been, but how to become more present, honor the sacred, and enhance our self awareness in every interaction.
On my way home, I had more time to reflect on my relationship with death, which has up till now been one of awareness but avoidant fascination. Last night I walked with that personification of death, felt its breath, watched its hand fall on three people, felt the awesome fragility of the veil between living and dying, between breathing, and the cessation of breath. I witnessed the awesome power of our human technology and its ability to bar death from entering, but only temporarily. I also felt the simple and profound power of prayer - something that I do not formally do very often, but what was what was needed in many moments. Prayer brought comfort and peace, hope and faith, to those whose path I journeyed with for a time yesterday.
CPE is transforming, mostly in the sense that it forces me to tear down the very last walls that protect me from the reality of the fragility of life, and the distances we go to hold on as hard and long as we can. It is really a gift of gratitude and humility. Death is good at teaching humility. It is indifferent, but not cold. I will learn to walk with her, so that when she touches me more closely, I can hopefully understand her a little better. And when I walk with healing and light, I can respect her decision to wait, just a little longer.
The nighttime is when I walked with death though. Most of the night was spent honoring those that had passed on to the next part of their journey, comforting their grieving families and being present to the losses that we face in the darkest hours before dawn.
After an exhausting night, we presented verbatims, and I am so grateful to our amazing and subtle supervisor. He has a gift for bringing out the gifts that are inherent in our growing edges. The opportunities that we have are what he sees in every interaction, not to dwell on what could have been, but how to become more present, honor the sacred, and enhance our self awareness in every interaction.
On my way home, I had more time to reflect on my relationship with death, which has up till now been one of awareness but avoidant fascination. Last night I walked with that personification of death, felt its breath, watched its hand fall on three people, felt the awesome fragility of the veil between living and dying, between breathing, and the cessation of breath. I witnessed the awesome power of our human technology and its ability to bar death from entering, but only temporarily. I also felt the simple and profound power of prayer - something that I do not formally do very often, but what was what was needed in many moments. Prayer brought comfort and peace, hope and faith, to those whose path I journeyed with for a time yesterday.
CPE is transforming, mostly in the sense that it forces me to tear down the very last walls that protect me from the reality of the fragility of life, and the distances we go to hold on as hard and long as we can. It is really a gift of gratitude and humility. Death is good at teaching humility. It is indifferent, but not cold. I will learn to walk with her, so that when she touches me more closely, I can hopefully understand her a little better. And when I walk with healing and light, I can respect her decision to wait, just a little longer.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Loss and Grief
In less than 12 hours, I begin my intensive CPE, Clinical Pastoral Education, at a large hospital in Rochester.
Less than an hour ago, a woman I have known for almost 15 years lost her 18 year old son to drug abuse and violence. Please, read Henry's story. Share it with your teens. Hug them tight in gratitude for their grace and beauty. And light a candle for Katie and her family. Katie's wisdom and wit led me through the difficult early years of parenting. Let our love lift her up during this time where words can never suffice.
Less than an hour ago, a woman I have known for almost 15 years lost her 18 year old son to drug abuse and violence. Please, read Henry's story. Share it with your teens. Hug them tight in gratitude for their grace and beauty. And light a candle for Katie and her family. Katie's wisdom and wit led me through the difficult early years of parenting. Let our love lift her up during this time where words can never suffice.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sandwiched
Like many of my contemporaries, I am part of a sandwich generation, simultaneously parenting young (and not-so-young) children while caring for the needs of aging parents.
I went home to central PA this week to visit with my family for the first time since Christmas. My little kids adore visiting their grandparents, and I look forward to stealing some hours to visit a couple of dear friends and their children.
It struck me, really struck me, how time is passing. I am no longer a young adult (duh). My parents are aging and struggling with illness. Balancing the needs of my children while visiting with them was enlightening.
My mother has always been (and considered) a handsome woman. But the last 10 years have not been easy on her body. I really saw her with fresh eyes this week, as she needed to be helped out of the shower. This woman, whom I spent years hating, and still avoid at times, and who has defined so much of what I have become in spite of her, is old. She has mellowed a bit. She is overweight and on oxygen 100 percent of the time. I helped her put lotion on her back, and then her legs. She had beautiful legs, in her day. Due to Bowen's Disease (which is not usually malignant, but is in her case), she has sores all over her legs, as a result of too much sun, and arsenic poisoning. She also has developed an autoimmune disease, which has left her legs and arms covered in other sores and rough patches. She has severe diabetes, and cares greatly for her feet. I rubbed lotion into her feet, taking the time to massage them for her.
My father is adored by my 5 year old son. He never let go of "Papa George's hand and prattled on and on. My father is in the process of being tested for prostate cancer, and has moderate to severe dementia. He has survived aneurisms, accidents, heart attacks. Jude and him are a good pair. They talk to each other, but don't really care about the response, just needing a warm hand and a listening ear. Lucy climbed on his lap, and it brought tears to my eyes to see how much they love him and accept him as he is. That's not an easy task for the older girls, who dislike the dementia unit at the nursing home and are made a bit uneasy by the overly friendly overtures of the women patients. We took my dad out to Red Lobster, because Jude remembered how much Papa George loves it. It was a fun meal, and my dad had a great time.
It was hard to come home. My 14 year old was ready, after 4 days. She told me, "I know this is your home mom, but it's not mine anymore." That about broke my heart - I would move back in a heartbeat. I am homesick for the mountains for weeks after a visit. Happy Valley is a charmed little place, privileged, growing, transforming. I miss my house there, my friends, Spring Creek, bike riding. I miss my friends still. But there are things I love about the Finger Lakes.
Being sandwiched means that when I took a vote on whether to stay another night or not, and I was the deciding vote, I put my own love for home aside and put my children's love for their home first. So here we are, back at the ranch, so to speak.
Next week starts a new chapter in my life, and I am a little anxious, but ready. The joys and sorrows of being in the sandwich generation will inform my compassion and love for those who share this journey.
I went home to central PA this week to visit with my family for the first time since Christmas. My little kids adore visiting their grandparents, and I look forward to stealing some hours to visit a couple of dear friends and their children.
It struck me, really struck me, how time is passing. I am no longer a young adult (duh). My parents are aging and struggling with illness. Balancing the needs of my children while visiting with them was enlightening.
My mother has always been (and considered
My father is adored by my 5 year old son. He never let go of "Papa George's hand and prattled on and on. My father is in the process of being tested for prostate cancer, and has moderate to severe dementia. He has survived aneurisms, accidents, heart attacks. Jude and him are a good pair. They talk to each other, but don't really care about the response, just needing a warm hand and a listening ear. Lucy climbed on his lap, and it brought tears to my eyes to see how much they love him and accept him as he is. That's not an easy task for the older girls, who dislike the dementia unit at the nursing home and are made a bit uneasy by the overly friendly overtures of the women patients. We took my dad out to Red Lobster, because Jude remembered how much Papa George loves it. It was a fun meal, and my dad had a great time.
It was hard to come home. My 14 year old was ready, after 4 days. She told me, "I know this is your home mom, but it's not mine anymore." That about broke my heart - I would move back in a heartbeat. I am homesick for the mountains for weeks after a visit. Happy Valley is a charmed little place, privileged, growing, transforming. I miss my house there, my friends, Spring Creek, bike riding. I miss my friends still. But there are things I love about the Finger Lakes.
Being sandwiched means that when I took a vote on whether to stay another night or not, and I was the deciding vote, I put my own love for home aside and put my children's love for their home first. So here we are, back at the ranch, so to speak.
Next week starts a new chapter in my life, and I am a little anxious, but ready. The joys and sorrows of being in the sandwich generation will inform my compassion and love for those who share this journey.
Attending Church
Today I went to church, not as RE assistant, but just as me. It was the last day for our ministerial intern, David Messner, and he gave a hell of a sermon. I felt inadequate afterward ;). What a gifted speaker he is!
The sermon was about taking those liminal moments - thresholds - where you are in a time out of time and can see into the windows of your life. About taking risks and living the life that calls you. And you know what, I felt really good after that. Not a day goes by (with gratitude) that the hard work of my own transformational experiences and callings is on my radar. I am following my calling, I am parenting with love and intention, I am attempting to be in right relation with the people in my life despite the daily challenges of that. I am a work in progress, but I'm aware of it, and in it.
I hope that I can maintain this ability to step outside my life and see the opportunities and growing edges. One place is in finding the joy in each day. It's easy to get caught up in daily living and chores and necessities. But in some ways, my children are such a gift because they make me laugh right out loud every day. They bring tears to my eyes with their kindnesses, honesty, and deep loving humanity.
Every day I pray that I can live into a theology of joy. It's harder than I would have thought, but it has so many little gifts that enable even more joy to enter into my life.
The sermon was about taking those liminal moments - thresholds - where you are in a time out of time and can see into the windows of your life. About taking risks and living the life that calls you. And you know what, I felt really good after that. Not a day goes by (with gratitude) that the hard work of my own transformational experiences and callings is on my radar. I am following my calling, I am parenting with love and intention, I am attempting to be in right relation with the people in my life despite the daily challenges of that. I am a work in progress, but I'm aware of it, and in it.
I hope that I can maintain this ability to step outside my life and see the opportunities and growing edges. One place is in finding the joy in each day. It's easy to get caught up in daily living and chores and necessities. But in some ways, my children are such a gift because they make me laugh right out loud every day. They bring tears to my eyes with their kindnesses, honesty, and deep loving humanity.
Every day I pray that I can live into a theology of joy. It's harder than I would have thought, but it has so many little gifts that enable even more joy to enter into my life.
Listen, Open, Serve
That's the mission of my congregation. I've done a lot of personal transformation on listening - both to myself and others. I'm getting really interested in the Serve part, and we had an interesting conversation in Wellspring about it a couple of sessions ago.
What does "Serve" mean to you? Is it a burden? A gift? Fulfilling? Martyrdom?
How do you serve in your life and why do you do it?
How is it a part of how you live into your faith?
What does "Serve" mean to you? Is it a burden? A gift? Fulfilling? Martyrdom?
How do you serve in your life and why do you do it?
How is it a part of how you live into your faith?
Friday, May 21, 2010
Libertarianism
I have always been a bit of a nonconformist. I think that's why people who knew me as a child (but not as an adult) are surprised that I am going into ministry, though I think becoming a UU minister is pretty nonconformist!
Lately, I have been feeling constrained by a preponderance of rules in the world. Often, this is the speed limit ;). But some of it is just how one has to get "special" permission for so many things. And so many rules are made to deal with common sense issues, that are not always black and white.
Currently my town code enforcement is driving me crazy. They want me to get rid of my chickens because we technically live in residential zoning, not residential-agricultural. However, RA zoning says that you can have chickens if they are more than 200 ft. away from another residence. Even though we're R, our chickens are WAY more than 200 ft. from another residence, because we have 2 acres. The zoning officer told me I could file a variance and promised to send me the specific code so I could use it to fill out the paperwork, but he didn't.
Then yesterday, I got a letter saying that we had to get rid of the chickens and he wouldn't ALLOW a variance. And, he said it would cost $75, but there is no list of variance costs, let alone the codes themselves online. I think he just made it up, as there is a blank line on the form to fill in the variance fee. Shouldn't there be a specific amount for variances? I mean, the FINE is only $25 but they want $75 to file the variance?
I am feeling ridiculously up in arms about this, but am doing my best to remain super-polite to the code officer. It seems that he is on a bender in our neighborhood and other neighbors have felt his wrath as well. One of the joys in living in small town America I guess.
Anyway, this is the kind of thing that makes me want to be a Libertarian. And things like making kids wear shoes at the Museum of Play. Or in the archeological dig at RMSC, where your shoes immediately get filled with recycled tire bits, which is supposed to be dirt. Or having to park facing the "correct" way on the street (I got a warning about this on my very rural street in front of my house two weeks ago!). Or random age discrimination, like not allowing minors to volunteer at lots of places. I could go on but I'll stop.
Lately, I have been feeling constrained by a preponderance of rules in the world. Often, this is the speed limit ;). But some of it is just how one has to get "special" permission for so many things. And so many rules are made to deal with common sense issues, that are not always black and white.
Currently my town code enforcement is driving me crazy. They want me to get rid of my chickens because we technically live in residential zoning, not residential-agricultural. However, RA zoning says that you can have chickens if they are more than 200 ft. away from another residence. Even though we're R, our chickens are WAY more than 200 ft. from another residence, because we have 2 acres. The zoning officer told me I could file a variance and promised to send me the specific code so I could use it to fill out the paperwork, but he didn't.
Then yesterday, I got a letter saying that we had to get rid of the chickens and he wouldn't ALLOW a variance. And, he said it would cost $75, but there is no list of variance costs, let alone the codes themselves online. I think he just made it up, as there is a blank line on the form to fill in the variance fee. Shouldn't there be a specific amount for variances? I mean, the FINE is only $25 but they want $75 to file the variance?
I am feeling ridiculously up in arms about this, but am doing my best to remain super-polite to the code officer. It seems that he is on a bender in our neighborhood and other neighbors have felt his wrath as well. One of the joys in living in small town America I guess.
Anyway, this is the kind of thing that makes me want to be a Libertarian. And things like making kids wear shoes at the Museum of Play. Or in the archeological dig at RMSC, where your shoes immediately get filled with recycled tire bits, which is supposed to be dirt. Or having to park facing the "correct" way on the street (I got a warning about this on my very rural street in front of my house two weeks ago!). Or random age discrimination, like not allowing minors to volunteer at lots of places. I could go on but I'll stop.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Gratitude for Vitamin D
Now folks, this was the perfect first summery day. 80F, sunny, clear, and I got to sit on a blanket and soak up some fabulous Vitamin D with some dear homeschool mama friends at the park. I feel like I have so little time for friends this past year. I am missing having a tight girlfriend that I can just be myself with, and laugh, and drink a little wine, and whine, and unwind. If some of my fellow students were closer, then that would be a given, but alas, we are spread across the continent.
I am finally able to work in my summer office, and am sprawled across the futon, pug snoring by my side. Kids are fed and bathed and ready for bed. Laundry is folded and dishes are done.
I will have a busy weekend ahead, all filled with sun and warmth. My last day of work at First Unitarian of Rochester is Sunday. Bittersweet, that. I am also grateful to go back to being "just" a congregant. It has been a journey of strange, this last couple of years, what with seminary and work and church. I am in many ways happy to be going back to a single role where I can be a member and attend services. I hope to continue with small group at some point, but I will have to see what my fall schedule looks like.
In 10 days, I start CPE, and my days of soaking up the sun are mostly over, but for weekends, for this summer. But it will be worth it! Summer reading schedules are being posted, so with CPE, work, and fall prep, I wonder if I will have time to breathe? Regardless, I will soak up every second of family time and be grateful for it.
For all my colleagues going through these transitions, I send a massive group hug!
I am finally able to work in my summer office, and am sprawled across the futon, pug snoring by my side. Kids are fed and bathed and ready for bed. Laundry is folded and dishes are done.
I will have a busy weekend ahead, all filled with sun and warmth. My last day of work at First Unitarian of Rochester is Sunday. Bittersweet, that. I am also grateful to go back to being "just" a congregant. It has been a journey of strange, this last couple of years, what with seminary and work and church. I am in many ways happy to be going back to a single role where I can be a member and attend services. I hope to continue with small group at some point, but I will have to see what my fall schedule looks like.
In 10 days, I start CPE, and my days of soaking up the sun are mostly over, but for weekends, for this summer. But it will be worth it! Summer reading schedules are being posted, so with CPE, work, and fall prep, I wonder if I will have time to breathe? Regardless, I will soak up every second of family time and be grateful for it.
For all my colleagues going through these transitions, I send a massive group hug!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Ebb and Flow
Yesterday, I got a migraine. I have been having a really hard time managing them; the last few months, they have lasted for several days at least once a month, and the medication has had some really unpleasant side effects, aside from not working really well.
For the first time, I got a combination of meds to work, with the only side effect being that I needed to sleep them off. Today, I am feeling hopeful that I broke it, and it won't come back this month! So I woke up happy to shower with the light on (no aura!), and took the kids to a play, which was really cute and they all behaved themselves.
I came home to find out that one of my FA forms went missing and I didn't get FA - I have a call in to find out wth happened. Then I found out that I had two unauthorized charges on my checking account for iTunes - for which I don't even have an account. Had to go to the bank, fill out forms to maybe get my money back, cancel my debit card...UGH. I am so used to the ease of having a bank card and not dealing with cash or checks. This sucks.
I came home from the bank and cried. So frustrated!
I am hopeful that the rest of the day will improve. Tomorrow's supposed to be awesome weather and I plan on spending it at the park or something nice with the littles.
Now work, then more chauffering. Hoping the sunshine cheers me up.
For the first time, I got a combination of meds to work, with the only side effect being that I needed to sleep them off. Today, I am feeling hopeful that I broke it, and it won't come back this month! So I woke up happy to shower with the light on (no aura!), and took the kids to a play, which was really cute and they all behaved themselves.
I came home to find out that one of my FA forms went missing and I didn't get FA - I have a call in to find out wth happened. Then I found out that I had two unauthorized charges on my checking account for iTunes - for which I don't even have an account. Had to go to the bank, fill out forms to maybe get my money back, cancel my debit card...UGH. I am so used to the ease of having a bank card and not dealing with cash or checks. This sucks.
I came home from the bank and cried. So frustrated!
I am hopeful that the rest of the day will improve. Tomorrow's supposed to be awesome weather and I plan on spending it at the park or something nice with the littles.
Now work, then more chauffering. Hoping the sunshine cheers me up.
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