My 200th Post!!

It is fitting that my 200th post is also written on the day that I finished CPE. Cause for celebration and marking time passed...

I wanted to share a bit of our goodbye process today. To close, we went around and said, in one word, what we hoped most for each other. What did they hope for me?

Happiness.

Love.

Self.

A-place-by-a-babbling-brook. (This was my supervisor so he could break the rules.)

In other words, they got me. They pegged me completely. Today (and throughout the internship), I had small mirrors held up for me that presented a completely accurate picture of me - not only what I presented on the outside but all the way down to my fears, hopes, beliefs, and passions. It was a remarkable experience to be seen for who you really are - the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful in between.

Secret of Life

"The Secret of Life" by Faith Hill

Couple of guys sittin around drinkin
Down at the starlight bar
One of em says, you know Ive been thinking
Other one says, that wont get you too far
He says, this is your life, and welcome to it
Its just workin and drinkin and dreams
Ad on tv says just do it
Hell if I know what that means

The secret of life is a good cup of coffee
The secret of life is keep your eye on the ball
The secret of life is a beautiful woman
And marilyn stares down from the barroom wall

You and me, were just a couple of zeros
Just a couple of down-and-outs
But movie stars and football heroes
What have they got to be unhappy about?
So they turn to the bartender, sam, what do you think?
Whats the key that unlocks that door?
Sam dont say nothin, just wipes off the bar
And he pours them a couple more

cause the secret of life is in sams martinis
The secret of life is in marilyns eyes
The secret of life is in monday night football
Rolling stones records and moms apple pie

Sam looks up from his sunday paper
Says, boys, youre on the wrong track
The secret of life is there aint no secret
And you dont get your money back
Hey

The secret of life is gettin up early
The secret of life is stayin up late
The secret of life is try not to hurry
But dont wait
Dont wait

The secret of life is a good cup of coffee
The secret of life is keep your eye on the ball
The secret of life is to find the right woman
The secret of life is nothin at all
Oh, its nothin at all
The secret of life

Couple of guys sittin around drinkin
Down at the starlight bar
One of em says, you know Ive been thinking
Other one says, that wont get you too far
That wont get you too far

Just read a fascinating reflection on the Sodom and Gomorrah story. Worth a read.

"Anyone who reads this passage with an ounce of intelligence or imagination can see that this is absolutely not a condemnation of homosexuality as we understand it."

http://normalsusan.blogspot.com/2009/08/sunday-august-2-2009.html

Question and Answers

Much of what this first year of seminary education (including CPE) has taught me is that there is a lot in me that has yet to be nailed down. I do not have a definitive stance on a good number of theological issues. When I said in a prayer the other day about a patient's soldier friend, "Don't take this one away" - I got asked about the theology behind it. I didn't have an answer.

So I've been asking myself more questions. Just what do I feel about death? The power of prayer? The idea of God's grace? Embodiment? Homosexuality? End of life issues?

It has all landed on my plate. Not everything is demanding a decision. Part of the blessing of this past year is the bliss of the color gray. I'm learning how very little in life is black or white. Much of it is in between. I see this as just a bit of the beauty of humanity and the blessing of diversity.

I've also had the chance to discover where I'm falling down on some of those issues. What do I do when faced with a dead body in a room where 20 people are grieving that death? Where one is grieving? None? How do I feel about doctors and DNR orders? How many times in one day can you ask, "What if this were me in their shoes?" and not go crazy?

Needless to say, it has been a year of questioning myself right down to the heart and soul of me. This summer has been an opportunity to ask those questions and play with the different answers. The unique stage of CPE gives me a chance to see how different answers sit with me and how others sit with their answers. I've had a chance to decide what exactly I believe in a space that welcomes the questions and the varied answers that come with them. God bless the people in this program and my seminary for questioning my answers.... but still allowing me to be me. (And God bless those of you back home who have loved me for years regardless of what my answers are.)

As for those questions, or more specifically, for my answers, I'm sure you'll be reading about them soon enough. I'm ready to write.

I'm Not Gonna Make It

One of the best parts about my CPE experience is the array of conversations I get to have around American culture and the English language with our two international students. One of them was asking me the other day what the phrase, "I'm gonna make it" means. I laughed. Of course this would not make sense to a new English speaker.

First of all, you have to mentally break apart those first words into I AM GOING TO but then to decide how you MAKE IT. Make what? Why are you making something. So then it turned into a conversation about survival and exaggeration. I tried to explain that although it means survival in the hospital (this patient is going to make it vs. he's not going to make it), we Americans like to exaggerate... a lot. So when the clock says 4:28pm and you are leaving work at 5, you may roll your eyes, lay your head on your desk and sigh, "I'm not gonna make it."

It was then that the international student started laughing and nodding. THIS was how he heard it used - not the other way (despite our being in a hospital!). Oh, America. THIS is what we are teaching other countries about us!

But that got me thinking how much we sap the importance out of certain phrases. Think for instance on the terrifying phrase "I'm gonna kill you" and how we playfully use it when someone mislaunders our favorite blouse or tickles us two seconds too many. We don't mean kill just like we don't really wonder if we are going to survive until 5.

I just called my grandma to wish her a happy birthday and she said that when she was born she was just over 3 pounds. "They didn't think I was gonna make it... but I did!" She turned 81 today. She "made it" for sure. But how odd to pull that into comparison with all the things I've seen in the hospital this summer. Those patients who didn't make it. Despite prayers and wishful thinking and the work of the doctors and nurses, they died. And in one case in particular, how a doctor was telling a patient's family that he was going to make it when they thought all hope was lost. I'm happy that he's around. He made it.

Funny choice of word though, "make" (or "made") is. You aren't really making anything.... are you?

Let's Merriam-Webster it:
MAKE
: to cause to exist, occur, or appear : create (make a disturbance)
: to bring into being by forming, shaping, or altering material : fashion (make a dress)
: reach, attain (made port before the storm) —often used with it
-make it
: to be successful (trying to make it in the big time as a fashion photographer)
: survive, live (half the cubs won't make it through their first year)

Interesting. I had even forgotten about the making it big time version of making it. Oh well. I wonder if there is some kind of life analogy (you know I am always wondering that) about our making it being completely out of our hands. In other words, if we are talking about making it through something, our goal is survival but ultimately it is out of our hands.

Frankly, I'm just giving thanks that 81 years ago my grandma did MAKE IT so that I could be alive today. Thanks gram... er, thanks God?

This sucks

I'd really rather not deal with it. It hurts too much. Feels too close. Hits too hard.

Deal with what, you ask? How I relate to other people seems to be performance based. I put on a show so you'll like me. So I'm coming here... where I still seem to be performing some show but where I've managed also to share a good bit of my heart as honestly as I can.

I think it all has to come down to the fact that I'm scared to death I won't be liked... or loved. That if I stop being a Susie Sunshine, quick with a joke or a quote or the latest headline, that somehow you will all decide that I'm not worth being around. So my goal in patient care is to cheer people up. Crack a joke. Make them smile.

This doesn't work. It fails pretty much every time. And here I am, being reminded that it isn't about me - - it's about the patients. I can't go in and put on a performance for them. But it doesn't change the fact that I want them to like me. I want to be an amazing chaplain. The problem? I can't be an amazing chaplain.... unless I deal with my shit and get through this and learn how to connect to people on a real level and stop worrying if I'll do well, be liked, be accepted....

I'd really rather not deal with it. It hurts too much. Feels too close. Hits too hard.

On Reaching the Half Way Point - Entry #2

Okay mid-unit evaluations.... bring em on! This week marks the half way point. I know I said in my last entry that I was going to vague and just leave you with a quote... but in fact there is really so much to say. I started reading back in some of my old blog entries. By old, I mean when CPE started (what we refer to as 5 years ago here). My fear of the unknown and my anxiety about being on call... wow. It all sounds familiar and I can touch the memory of it within me, but it also seems far away. Distant. I guess that's a good thing. As for that unknown behind every door: every single patient I meet is a child of God. What am I afraid of?

And can I just say as a side note - the sunset right now is beyond gorgeous. I have found that the weather after a good rain storm is so beautiful that I tend to love the rain that brought it. Oh my - even that sounds like it was supposed to carry some deep message. While I'm sure it can be an analogy for life and life's difficulties... I really have found that a good rain storm one day means breathtaking weather the next. That or you just have a week's worth of rain.... I digress.

So CPE is going well. I had to stop and let myself learn. I had to accept that I had no idea how to do this (shocking) and that I was surrounded by people who could teach me (thank you Jesus) if only I would let them and let myself (stubbornness comes naturally to me - I'm a redhead). So I did let myself let them and now I'm learning. I'm learning a lot, too. Some of it I am tucking away for a later time. Most of it I'm being forced to use right away. That's what is so amazing about CPE. It isn't some classroom on some campus in a little bubble of safety and intellect. I learn in a small classroom tucked away in a corner of a hospital - then I go visit with patients. I respond to a crisis and I have to use what I've learned in class (often from the same day if only because it is fresh on my mind).

So as for the quote - - it's true. I knew that there was some work that needed to be done. But then God started throwing out a wing here and putting in a courtyard over there. I'm not gonna lie, it still hurts. I'm just trusting more. It helps it not hurt so much in the long run.

Upon Reaching the Half Way Point

Instead of telling you outright how I'm doing, I thought I'd be vague and just leave you a quote. :)

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right, and stopping the leaks in the roof, and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably, and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to?

The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of– throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

-C. S. Lewis

Verbatim - My Pastoral Visit with the World

Well, hello world. My name is 1L and I'm a Chaplain Intern. I just wanted to stop in a for a minute and meet you. Is now an okay time to visit? Great. Let me just pull up this chair here. So, what brings you here today? How does that make you feel? It sounds like this is all a bit overwhelming. Well, can I offer to say a prayer with you? What can I pray about? Okay, I can do that. But let's change it up and only pray about me, this time. Okay? Pray with me...

God of hope and healing, I am nearly drowning in emotion in this hospital land of sick, suffering, and new found joy. I float along medical terminology that barely speaks to the problems that real people are experiencing as aches or pains in their bodies. I want to separate the body from the soul and make it easier to talk to someone about their dying body and death. I want to be rewarded with the dark mysteries of someone else's soul without divulging my own. I want it to be easier.

God of blessings and light, thank you for surrounding me with such a magical cast of beautiful creatures. I am nearly drowning in deep thinking, insightful wisdom, questioning answers, and motivating tension. I float along words and quotes and prayers and thoughts that hum their way into my ears through the hospital air. I want to witness a miracle but I'd like to do so from the quiet and safety of my workspace corner. I want to learn how to live a life that honors human dignity and values stillness and silence in the midst of the chaos of living day to day. I want to know how to do it all right now.

Be with me. Restore me. Stay with me forever. Amen...

Okay world, thanks for praying with me. If you are around tomorrow, can I stop by and see you again? Great. And... I know waiting can be difficult. That's the hardest part of being here, I think. You'll be home soon enough. Just let the people here take care of you. They know what they're doing. Well anyway, have a good rest of the day.

On Death, Without Exaggeration

by Wislawa Szymborska

It can't take a joke,
find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.

In our planning for tomorrow,
it has the final word,
which is always beside the point.

It can't even get the things done
that are part of its trade:
dig a grave,
make a coffin,
clean up after itself.

Preoccupied with killing,
it does the job awkwardly,
without system or skill.
As though each of us were its first kill.

Oh, it has its triumphs,
but look at its countless defeats,
missed blows,
and repeat attempts!

Sometimes it isn't strong enough
to swat a fly from the air.
Many are the caterpillars
that have outcrawled it.

All those bulbs, pods,
tentacles, fins, tracheae,
nuptial plumage, and winter fur
show that it has fallen behind
with its halfhearted work.

Ill will won't help
and even our lending a hand with wars and coups d'etat
is so far not enough.

Hearts beat inside eggs.
Babies' skeletons grow.
Seeds, hard at work, sprout their first tiny pair of leaves
and sometimes even tall trees fall away.

Whoever claims that it's omnipotent
is himself living proof
that it's not.

There's no life
that couldn't be immortal
if only for a moment.

Death
always arrives by that very moment too late.

In vain it tugs at the knob
of the invisible door.
As far as you've come
can't be undone.