Little Theologians

One of my professors used to always say, "We are all little theologians." In honor of that idea, here's something to get you flexing your little-theology muscles.

Below you will find two seperate theological excercises to whet your God-minded whistle. Let me encourage you to make an attempt at filling out one or both during a few minutes of spare time. Simply, copy and paste in a Word document and have at it. Don't think too long or hard for the right answer, for in doing so you'll miss the point of the activity.

Enjoy.


God is....
God is like the color of _____(color), filling the _____(place) with _____ and _____. When I think of God, I think of _____(flower) and the fragrance and beauty that it brings. I recognized God's presence most often when _____. This is when I know that God is real. God must be bigger than _____ because _____. When I pray, I experience God as _____. Often God whispers to me _____ and at times yells to me _____. The name I most use for God is _____ because _____. I wish God could be more like _____ because then God would _____. The most difficult characteristic for me to understand about God is God's _____. God's favorite game is _____. I know this because God enjoys _____. The place where I saw God today is _____. In this place God was _____. Amen.


====================

God is __________
God is __________
God is __________
God is __________
God sounds like ____________
God sounds like ____________
God sounds like ____________
God sounds like ____________
God's fragrance is like ____________
God's fragrance is like ____________
God's fragrance is like ____________
God's fragrance is like ____________
God feels like ___________
God feels like ___________
God feels like ___________
God feels like ___________
God is __________

I would also encourage you to post what you come up with in the comments section. I would so much love to read what you write.

Blessings.

It's All About Testosterone

This post is part-two of a post titled "God Doesn't Make Mistakes." If you haven't yet read it, click here.

________________

A baby in the NICU was recently born with female genetalia but also a "Y" chromosome, which indicates male gender. After an enthralling discussion with one of the NICU doctors, Doc W, I learned that for babies to develop as males it's all about testosterone. This baby's delima is that while he is genetically a male, he isn't developing as one.

There are basically three possible causes to a situation such as this:

1. The baby is failing to produce testosterone or enough of it. This is the easiest to treat.

2. The baby does not produce a certain other chemical which actually converts testosterone into a usable form.

3. The baby's receptors, which take in and use the testosterone, are not doing there job. I.E. He can't take in testosterone.

In the case of the third cause, there is little or nothing that modern medicine can do in order to help the baby develop as male (it's genotype). Luckily Dr. W says it looks like this baby's cause is the first: he's just not producing the hormone.

Once the tests confirm this, they can start giving the baby testosterone. At that point it sounded like he will develop a penis and the feminine genetalia will dissapate. Upon puberty, he will be as normal as the next. Whew, I'm glad to hear that this child will have a chance at a "normal" life.

Dr. W also said that today in parts of India the legal documents have three options for denoting gender: male, female and trans. Medicine is not as far advanced or nearly as accessible, so there's an entire sub-culture of people born with ambigious gender who simply develop naturally.

The Native American Indians had a word for trans-gendered individuals: "two spirits." They were neither hunters nor gatherers. They indeed had two spirits. And they were often revered as shaman. (Thnx Vicki for this last part!)

I'm also glad we now have medical advancements to figure out such things. In the old days (1950's) the belief was that in the battle between Nature vs Nurture, the latter always wins. In cases such as this one 50 years ago, doctors would have instructed parents to raise the boy as a girl and all would be well. Luckily, we've learned better than this, sadly due partly to the number of distressed individuals who've committed suicide or changed their gender later in life because of being raised contradictory to their biology.

Truly, the brain is our most powerful sexual organ.

See Section

Two weeks ago I was priviledged to watch a Cesarean Section birth. And it was marvalously fascinating.

This residency year has been so much more than I could've expected in many ways, and part of that is because I've been able to observe an autopsy, a circumcision, 3 surgeries, and now a C-section.

Here's how it all went down (or should I say came out).

First of all, L&D (Labor and Delivery) is 99% female in their staff (and patients). So, as soon as I arrived that morning at 7:30 I was out of place and recieved more than a few curious looks from passers by as I stood gowned in the full body "bunny suit" like painters wear. I also had on a surgical hat thingy, shoe coverings and mask which alerted me to the fact that my breath was not too pleasant. (*Note, have a mint before visiting patients).

As I entered, mom was having the epidural: a series of large and long needles injected into her spine. This was the worst part of it all. She didn't react at all; however, I winced every time a needle was inserted. I confess there was a moment when I wondered if I'd see my breakfast again.

When the doc entered he got straight to business, cutting the skin open carefully and then pealing and cutting back the other layers of flesh and fatty tissue. All the sudden, there was the uterus, or the little baby hotel as it was explained to me in my early years. Smooth and slimy it looked near the size of a basketball.

One quick motion and it was cut open. Quickly, a river of watery amniotic fluid rushed out as if the dam just broke. Seconds later the doctor was pulling on something suctioned to the baby's head, and poof, there was a whole new person in the room.

By this point, only about 10 minutes had gone by. Mom wanted her tubes tied (which the doc said was "bad for business"), so after sewing up the uterus the doctor pulled the whole thing out and set it on her stomach. She was literally inside out! The tube tying went quickly and is exactly what it sounds like. He tied two pieces of string tight around each filopian tube and cut out the section in between. That was it.

Fifteen minutes of sewing her up and all was done. The whole thing lasted about 45 minutes start to finish. Mom and dad were elated. Mom cried and dad, with camera ready, was taking pictures of the first purple, then pink little life that had entered our world. The best part was watching these parents enjoy the sight of their new dear little beloved.


It was amazing. Getting to see a C-section forced me to sit and simply be astounded by the miracle of life, and how all of the millions of little things that need to grow and develop in just the right way all happened perfectly to produce this bundle of joy.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. -Psalm 139:14

The Heart of Christianity, By Marcus Borg

I just finished reading The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering A Life Of Faith, by professor and scholar Marcus Borg.

Borg, Hundere Distinguished Professor of Religion at Oregon State University, is one of the most widely known and influential voices for progressive Christianity out there today. Prior to this book he has written over a dozen books including the best seller, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time.

In a way, The Heart of Christianity seems to be a synthesis of much of Borg's writings as well as answers to frequently asked questions in his seminars.

Borg sets out in this book to address the growing divide between conservative and liberal Christianity, which he refers to as the Earlier Paradigm and the Emerging Paradigm. At the heart of this book is the question of how we understand the Bible. Here, Borg says plainly, "I think the single most divisive issue in American-Christianity today concerns the nature of the Bible." And I think Dr. Borg is on to something.

In a growing number of "little theological discussions" I'm having with family and friends, I often find my thoughts tracing the core issue for the topic at hand back to how we view the Bible. Is the Bible inerrent (without error, infallible)? Or is it something else? Is it the product of men and women doing there best to make sense of and write down what they interpreted as experiences with the sacred. Is the Bible "God's Handbook" as I've often heard it described? Did the Biblical authors simply take divine dictation, writing down exactly what God told them too. I doubt it. Something tells me the process was much messier than that.

When I entered seminary I was exposed to "the inerrancy debate." Is frightening how aggressively people can argue over this issue. I quickly became fed up with it and thought, "Why can't we just ignore this small issue and get on with following Jesus?" And while this isn't a bad approach, I am becoming more aware that how we understand the Bible affects virtually every aspect of Christian belief.

But, back to the book review stuff...

Because, most are familiar with the conservative or earlier paradigm, Borg writes on behalf of the emerging paradigm, tactfully presenting the Christian lens through which progressive believers see their faith system. The book is divided into two sections, 1) a more doctrinal but very readable section where he presents his view of faith, God, the Bible and Jesus; and 2) several chapters on how this paradigm is lived out on topics such as salvation, Christian practice, and religious pluralism.

To any Christian raised in the conservative stream of the tradition, one thing will be true: this book is challenging. It's not challenging to read or to understand, but rather Borg will likely confront you with ideas that threaten to rattle some foundational elements of your faith. In my opinion, more people need such experiences that stretch their faith. One sad aspect of conservative Christianity is that too few people have spent time thinking for themselves about their faith, and too many people will put down such a book once it becomes a theological threat.

The writing is very smooth, and Borg is decidedly articulate, leaving no vagaries or questions as to what he actually means. Though the book covers a wide array on the theological spectrum, it is not exhaustive, so there is still room for discussion on most of the issues.

As a life-long student of theology and a bit of a theologian myself, I give this book the ever-coveted "Nathan-two-thumbs-up" and recommend it to anyone ready to think for herself about God and faith and life.

Carrey Me

At my 6th grade "graduation" ceremony thing awards and superlatives were given out. There was a group of goofy type awards during which I was given "The Jim Carrey" award. My teacher said, "Nathan walked into my class room with a different facial expression on every single day."

Ever since then, about 2 or 3 times a year I have been, and still get, told that I look like or remind someone of Jim Carrey.

I, personally, can't say that I look much like him. However, I have heard dozens of times throughout life that I resemble or am reminiscent of the wacky and flamboyant actor. I am a fan of much of his acting and many of his movies including, The Truman Show, The Mask, Liar Liar (OMG! Somebody just now, I mean right now, just told me that I reminded her of Jim Carrey. I'm not even kidding.), Ace Ventura, Bruce Almighty, and of course ol' Fire Marshall Bill from SNL.

Since I was small I've always enjoyed taking wacky pictures or contorting my face in new ways. I have energy and have been known to spaz in ways reminiscent of Mr. Carrey's TV/movie personality. That I cannot deny.

I am funny (and I know how lame it sounds when someone says, "I'm funny."), so perhaps it is the laughter along with my hieght and lankiness that forms the connection in people's minds. But there are plenty of tall funny people.

So, what is it? What about me causes the occasional person to make this comparison. If this thought has ever entered your mind, please be a doll and enter it on the comments section. I don't need your defense of why I don't remind you of him, but any insights into why this comparison is broched every few months would be helpful.

See, don't Heather and I look just like Jim and Jenny?...I didn't think so either.

Getting Older

I came across this poem, by Billy Collins, in something I read recently. It's an poetic telling of what it's like to finally turn 10, to move from the innocence of our childhood to adolescence. It's also sad as it points out (I think) the death of part of our imagination.


The whold idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chickenpox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I would shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.


I especially love the images of wizards and princes that we can all probably identify with. Something happened to our imagination along the way. For some reason we're no longer able to suspend reality for adverture's sake save when we're watching a movie or reading a novel. What a disservice to our inner child, to our primal, playful imagination, to those formative parts of us that continually impact who we are today.

Perhaps, today, when you're driving home in your car you can take those minutes to imagine you're racing down a track for your life in a battle against your arch nemesis! Or maybe you'll be embarking on a quest (people don't go on enough quests anymore) to save the one you love from mortal danger and great peril! Maybe you can let your mind engage in a bit of play for a few minutes.

Give it a try, I'd love to hear about it on the comments section. Go have some fun.

Bizarre

Bizarre is the only word I have to describe some of the medical situations I've encountered in the hospital. Here's a few of the highlights.

After lung cancer and more than one surgery, a man breathes using only 15% of the one lung he has remaining. Wow.

Patients with major head injuries often have to have monitors surgically put into their heads. A hole is drilled into the skull where the sensor sits and monitors pressure on the brain. Crazy. (Can I get one of those for emotional pressure?)

Amputee patients sometimes feel pain in the areas of their bodies that have been removed. I know this is due to the nervous system and that sort of thing, but how bizarre would it be to feel pain in your foot when you don't have a leg? Yikes.

A man fell and hit his head hard on concrete. Nothing was broken; however, the injury created lots of swelling and pressure build up in his skull. Doctors then cut out and removed a piece of his skull to relieve pressure and stored it in his stomach for safe keeping until it can be replaced. What?!

A man slowly drifted from life into death one night. His organs were not functioning, his lungs were not breathing. He was dead. But his pacemaker was still going so the monitor showed a heart beat. The only way to stop it was to run a magnet over his chest and kill the pacemaker. Sad.

Falling from a tree a man crushed a lumbar disc in his spine. In surgery the doctor first removed one of his lower floating ribs. "Look chaplain, I have his rib," he said as the doctor held the bone in the air. This rib would later be fashioned to replace the broken neck bone. Intriguing.

Like I said, bizarre is the only word I can come up with to describe this stuff that happens in the hospital. I'm reminded of Psalm 139:14 which reads, "I'm praise you (God) because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

God doesn't make mistakes

During the NICU interdisciplinary team meeting today the doctor told us about a new born baby with special needs. The needs of this child are rare. The sonogram before birth indicated that the baby's sex would be female. Upon birth, this was confirmed by the doctor who saw female parts on the baby. However, genetic testing showed that the baby actually had a "y" chromozome, which means genetically that the baby is a boy.

I've heard of cases like this and others where questions of gender are big issues and gender lines become very blurry. The doctor indicated that chemically and hormonally this child is a boy, and the parents are and will treat the him like one. Also, later on, a prosthesis penis would need to be made for him.

Too many times have I heard opponents of homosexuality and those condemning persons of alternative sexual preference say that since God doesn't make mistakes no one is truly born a homosexual. I have no reason to believe that this child will be homosexual; however, the unusual circumstances have put me onto the topic. I'm just glad this was caught early so that the parents and child don't have to deal with a crisis when this child, appearing female, grew a mustache and failed to develop breasts during puberty.

So, what happened in this case? Did God make a mistake. Or is the science wrong? Or perhaps, to ask whether or not God makes mistakes, is the wrong question. And perhaps trying to answer this question and set ourselves up as judges over one another is the wrong approach to take toward one another. Rather, what if God is calling us to love one another as ourselves and to spread life through acts of kindness and love through words of encouragement. What if, even if we disagreed on moral grounds with another person, we made a choice to honor his or her dignity; now that definitely wouldn't be making a mistake.

Personally, I don't think God made a mistake when this child was formed in a loving mother's womb. I think this child is beautiful and God absolutely adores him. I don't think God made a mistake when God created my good friend whom I respect, who also happens to be lesbian. I do think God smiles a divine grin when thinking about each one of us.

What do you think?

Use the right key

I was recently called down to the trauma bay when the pager buzzed and read: code trauma, GSW 30yof eta10. I've learned that you never know what to expect when a gun shot wound patient comes to the trauma bay. I've seen a fair share of these in all manner of seriousness.

One GSW shot herself directly in the chest (left breat area), missing her heart and lungs because the bullet hit and traced along a rib following a somewhat circular path through her body around the vital organs. She was fine....physically.

One person shot himself twice in the chest in a suicide attempt, and when that didn't work had the gusto to shoot himself in the head. Still he lived for several more days.

One woman was shot in the stomach, which is supposedly the most painful place to be shot as well as very dangerous. She lived.

A chaplain friend of mine described a story of a man with a GSW to the head. The patient's brain then expanded and parts of it were squishing out of his skull.

In the trauma bay a critical GSW patient was wheeled in. The med staff had to go in side the chest cavity from the side and massage the heart manually to keep the person alive for surgery. This patient's boyfriend was harmlessly showing her his gun on the couch when it accidently went off. (Imagine your hand around someone else's heart! Yikes.)

Once, a gun shot wound patient came in, and there was so much blood that the chaplain fainted and was then admitted as a patient herself!

Back to when I was on call. A lady got off from her third shift job early and came home that morning. Tired, she inserted the wrong house key into the door and wiggled it a bit before fumbling some more with her keys. The boy friend in the house thought someone was trying to break in so he grabbed his handy 9mm pistol and let one fly before even knowing who he was shooting at. She was turned sideways and the bullet struck her in the shoulder.

Once inside, the missle basically traced under neath the skin along her back and came to rest in a harmless place near the spine but not heading for it. I find it fascinating that bullets can often change direction, ricoche and follow along parts of our body.

Talking as she entered the bay, she told doctors all her medical history stuff and gave me a number to contact her parents (who didn't really like the boy friend to start with). Physically, she would be fine, though I can't speak for the boyfriend whose life might now be in more danger than hers. Emotionally, she was shaken up. I talked with her a few minutes doing my best to comfort her by keeping her present to the moment.

If there's one lesson to take from this story, it's when you're entering your house at an unexpected time, and behind the door there might be a love-crazed (or just crazed) gunman, you'd better be sure to use the right key.

An Alter in the World

I recently finished reading "An Alter In The World" by Barbara Brown Taylor. Taylor serves as a seminary professor or world religions in north Georgia after having been a long tenured priest in the Episcopalian tradition.

First things first, Barbara Brown is perhaps the best writer I've ever read. An author of a dozen books, the way in which she weaves her words together seems almost majestic. As my eyes effortlessly floated across page after page I hardly knew I was reading.

The aim of this book is finding the sacred in everyday life. Taylor's approach is not just another droning call to readers to try harder to believe that God is present everywhere. No, by reading her words, one becomes convicted that God can be noticed by feeling our bare feet on rich damp soil and by taking a moment to notice the smell of a breeze. One can pray simply by hanging clothes out to dry on an old fashion farm line or by feeling excruciating pain.

This book shows that God is much more than we typically make God out to be on Sunday mornings in stuffy santuaries. Taylor puts it this way,

No matter how hard I try to say something true about God, the reality of God
will exlipse my best words. The only reality I can describe with any accuracy is
my own limited expereince of what I think may be God: the More, the Really Real, the Luminous Web That Holds Everything in Place.

The methodology of the book is an honest discussion of about a dozen spiritual practices. Unlike the typical spiritual disciplines classically covered by spiritual self-help books, Taylor throws readers a curve ball by engaging the practices of Paying Attention, Wearing Skin, Getting Lost, Carrying Water, and even the practice of Feeling Pain.

Before reading this book, I honestly had little expectation having already relegated it to the category of hippy-tree-hugger. But no, somehow the author has offered me a sense of reverence for the earth, my every step and even the twigs that crack under my feet. Without hugging trees, she's presented this vision in about 200 pages of attractive prose that tug on the strings inside each of us, the ones that make us more fully human.

Person of faith or not, this book is worth a gander. I give it the Nathan-two-thumbs-up. It feels like a celebration of life and a reminder of love for our world and ourselves. This book will make you more human. Taylor has given me a gift by helping me better see God in places I formerly did not, by uncovering the sacred amidst the normal, by really revealing an alter in the world.

Dog Theology, part 5: For Dog Owners

Heather and I have two ferns in our apartment. Or should I say had two ferns...now we have one. Until recently, we didn't have one of those stories that so many pet owners have about big doggy destruction.

One of our ferns lived in a large fancy pot on the floor in our living room. Occasionally, Dakota would sneak some dirt from it to have a little snack. Though we didn't like her doing this, there was no real harm done.

You need to know that when we're gone for the day, Dakota stays closed in our room and Lola in the pin but not behind any doors. Well, the truth is, Lola wanted out one day. So, she used her 60+ pounds of strength, relenting desire for freedom, and I imagine a dash of dim-wittedness to break out of the pin. Long story short, you can use your imagination, our floor fern was de-potted and the dirt was spread--not dumped--but spread all over most the living room floor. (See 1st pic)

After the disciplining, anger and clean up we realized we could salvage part of the fern. So we replanted in a smaller pot the left overs of the once magnanimous house plant and placed it in a different area of the floor.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on us.

History has a peculiar way of repeating itself, and the very next day it did just that. She escaped once again, the smaller pot was dumped, dirt was strewn everywhere and the rest of the plant had been mangled and finished off. (See 2nd pic)

So there it is: my dog story of costly destructive proportions. I hope this is the only one we ever have from Lola. But, we love her all the same. After all, she still is really cute. (See 3rd pic)

I recently ran across this list of dog jokes that are pertinent. It fits in a bit with my blog series on Dog Theology that you can read here, here, here and here.

There are certain ways in which being like your dog might just make you a better human being. And here are a few.

Enjoy.

IF A DOG WERE YOUR TEACHER YOU'D LEARN STUFF LIKE...

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
Allow the expereience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.
When it's in your best interest - practice obedience.
Let others know when they've invaded your territory.
Take naps and stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout...run right back and make friends.
Delight in the simiple joy of a long walk.
Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.
Be loyal.
Never pretend to be something you're not.
If what you want lies burried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

I just thought I'd include this 4th picture of Lola caked--snout to tail--in mud. She's never been happier!

Surgery

Last week I got to spend a morning in the OR watching surgery. The department has 22 operating rooms, three of which are dedicated full-time to open heart surgery. Many of the rooms have the sqare footage of my first apartment. The circular design of the facility is set up to keep all non-sterile people and equipment on the outside to reduce foreign bacteria presence. Most of the materials, and even the walls, were engineered and imported from Germany. It's the only OR of its kind in our country! The result: infection rates are some of the lowest of any surgery facility you'll find.

Room 1: A woman was having knee surgery. Her skin was cut and peeled back carefully but expediently. Her flesh was pushed or cut aside and there was her bone. Just out there for me to see. The doctor placed in a metal plate and a number of screws using what resembled my Craftsman power drill at home. You know how your teeth cringe even when you think of the dentist's drill in your mouth. Well, now my knee gets the same sensation.

We listened to the Eagles via the doctor's iPhone pumped into speakers the whole time.

X-rays were taken throughout the process to ensure precision. However, at one point the doctor employed a simpler approach to make an adjustment. And our came the crowbar. (Hey, I've got one of those!) Some violent looking prying was necessary for things to be just right, and my legs became weak when I heard the metal on bone crackling. Eek!

There were times when I was utterly bamboozled by the ingenuity and creativity that went into surgical techniques and technology. But in contrast there were times when I was befuddled by the shear primitive nature of what happened. A crowbar? Really. I mean,...really.

Room 2: A cancer patient was having a port-cath put in so her kemotherapy drugs wouldn't mangle her arm veins. Using this snazzy device the drugs can go straight to her heart and out to the body. This was a minor procedure, but what amazed me most was the way in which they got it all in there with only two tiny cuts.

Room 3: Aneurysm surgery. This patient had been opened from the bottom of the sternum down to the groin. Basically, there was a big hole where his stomach normally is. From 7 feet away I couldn't see the bottom of the whole. Just four hands reaching inside, working diligently. The two doctors were bloody up to their elbows and on their chests, surrounded by assistants covered in aprons, gloves and a cool head contraption which had a light on one's forehead.

Surgery is amazing. I think it truly is a modern day miracle. After watching the surgeries I have a better idea of what many patients go through. I can be a better caregiver to them. I also know that I never want to have surgery. Call it a personal thing. But, I don't want to lie naked on a table in a cold room while some stranger uses a crowbar to correct my bones while listening to 70's rock. No thank you.

Grow, grow!

Even if you no longer go to Sunday School, you know how the old Sunday School song goes, "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white..." And I'm guessing youre finishing the rest in your head right now.

This week I began a three month rotation through the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). This is the last of four rotations for my program. I began in Behavioral Health (the psych ward), then went to Hospice, Oncology (cancer patients), and now......babies! Not just any babies, but tiny, struggling, innocent, fighting for their life babies. Babies born prematurely or with birth defects and handicaps. For the critical ones, literally each breath can be a fight for life.

The NICU is closed to most people in the hospital; special access is required on our name badge just to open the door. Upon entering, it's like opening the door to an entirely different place. It's dark to help the babies' brains develop, and quiet so as not to harm any growing ear canals and such. We always squit our hands with sanitizer before entering any patient room, but to obtain access to this cradle of care, a solid two-minute long hand scrub down is mandatory.

The patients here are more than adorable. They're cute, precious, goofy-grin, gitty on the inside, wonderful little bundles of life that tap some of the innermost parts that make me human. Just by looking at them I'm on their side, I'm rooting for them. Though I can't just pick them up, I'm holding them with my eyes, with my heart, and I'm reminded of what Barbara Brown Taylor wrote in a book I'm reading, "To hold a sleeping child in your arms can teach you more about the meaning of life than any ten books on the subject."

The Talmud is a central text in the Jewish tradition in the form of rabbinic discussion pertaining to Jewish law, ethics, customs and history. The Christian Old Testament is also called the Tanakh and is a Jewish sacred book along with the Talmud.

The Talmud talks about God's love for and attention to all people and things within creation. God loves all of creation. John 3:16 begins, "For God so loved the world." In fact, according to the Talmud every blade of grass has its own angel bending over it whispering, "Grow, grow."

I love this image. Angels cheering on grass as it strives and struggles to be what it was made to be. As I was floating through the NICU today I found myself cheering for each baby by which I stood. On the outside I was smiling. On the inside I was bending over each baby whispering, "Grow, grow."

They are precious! And if my heart and love for these babies feels so strongly inside me, I love the idea that God loves and cheers for these dear little ones even more.

I have a sense that if I listen hard enough I'll be able to hear God chanting along with me. And something tells me God is chanting the same thing to me, and to you.