Too Close To Home

I'm on call. The pager buzzes. I jot down the number on my pad then quickly dial. "Hello," says a voice. "It's the chaplain," I respond. "We've had a death here in our unit," she says.


I make my way weaving through the corridors to a familiar family waiting room and gently open the door. Looking back at me is, surprisingly, a familiar face. Something is wrong. I'm used to caring for strangers, bearing their grief when they cannot, holding them up when they cannot stand. But this face is no stranger. "Hi Nathan," she says with a defeated painful expression.


That day I sat with a friend, a co-worder, in a little room during the death of her husband. I looked into her fragile familiar eyes as they looked back at mine searching for strength, for hope. I sat next to her in the same way I've sat next to her for the past four months.


This was too close to home.


There was no stopping the tears in my own eyes as my heart broke into pieces, as her arms wrapped around me, as we couldn't believe the horror--the same horror she's observed so many times before.


But this time she saw grief from the inside out. You might say we chaplains are experts in grief, but when it strikes us there is no bonus relief from its pain. We too must suffer through it.


I could hardly be a chaplain to her, a chaplain to a chaplain. I was a friend, a friend who sat with her in that horribly sacred moment. My heart wrentched. Every time she fell apart, I did on the inside. It was almost too much grief to bear. It was one of the hardest calls I've ever had to take. I shall not forget her eyes, her tears or her desperate embrace.


Dear friend, we love you, and our hearts break with you. Prayerfully, Nathan

Not Sure How I Feel About This

I attended a Catholic Mass today. This is the second I've even been to. I knew that the Catholic church was finicky about who receives communion and who doesn't, but for some reason it's never struck me until now.


Below is what was printed on the back of the service bulletin, and I'd like to know what you think about it.


Guidelines for Receieving Holy Communion


We welcome to this Holy Mass all who share our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, but while all are welcome here, we cannot extend to all an invitation to receieve Holy Communion. This is not a lack of Christian hospitality; rather, it is the recognition by the Catholic Church that real divisions of faith and practice do sadly exist among Christians. Practicing Catholics who go to Confession whenever needed are invited to receive Holy Communion. Non-Catholic Christians and those Catholics who should not receive Holy Communion (including those married outside the church and those in need of the sacrament of Penance) are asked to pray for a spiritual communion with the Lord Jesus and for the unity of His Church. Those who are not recieving Holy Communion but who would like to recieve a blessing are invited to indicate this desire by crossing their arms across their chests in the Communion procession.


I'm an ordained minister, and yet I am not 'allowed' to receive the Lord's Supper. I'm not sure how I feel about that.


Comments?
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Actually, you know what? I do know how I feel about this. I'm offended! But, I'm not in the mood to rant incoherently on my blog forcing you to suffer through reading it (all two of you). So I want to hear your perspective, Christian and atheist.

Pie #2 Review

This is a picture of Heather's second ever home made mouth watering pumpkin pie. In a recent post I raved about how delicious her first pie was. And here I am again to praise pie number 2.

Using a different recipe, Heather concocted her second mouth watering wonder in pie form. This one, a traditional recipe, used less sugar and a fair amount of tasteful spices including ground cloves which gave it a rich flavor reminding me of grandma's thanksgiving ham.

I must say, this one tastes even better than the first which was a custard based kind of texture. This one's fluffier texture and spices combine wonderfully forming a flavorful delicacy which leave you wanting more.

She used the self-harvested pumpkin pie filling left over from last week's pie (none of that canned stuff), and there's still some left over (though not enough for another whole pie). However, all this is only half of the pumpkin, so when the rest is boiled and mashed we'll have ample amounts for yet more pies.

This excites me.

Because Heather seeks the opinions of so many Ashevillians I still have yet to bring some to my fellow chaplains in Spartanburg. I'm thinking I may have to make my own pie to bring to work; however, my co-workers may wonder why it doesn't taste as good as those I've described that Heather made.

I'm hoping for more pies between now and Thanksgiving, in fact I'm counting on them. This one was better than the last and the last one was still great, so you can start being jealous now.

My Will Be Done

The opening scene of Lethal Weapon 4 includes a man with a flame thrower, AK 47 assault rifle and a suit of bullet proof armor. Detectives Martin Riggs (Mel Gibson) and Roger Murtaugh (Danny Glover) decided to simply run over the assailant who hadn't yet detected their presence.


"What if he turns around" said Murtaugh?
"We're gonna will him not to," replied Riggs.
"We're gonna will him" retored Murtaugh?!
"Yep, we will...don't turn around," said Riggs now talking at the metal covered man.
Clasping hands, they both began chanting "don't turn around, don't turn around."


This scene is a funny mix between action and humor. Too bad their willing didn't work, because he did turn around, and they had to leap from the car into the rain as he fired at them.


While on call this past Saturday, I had a lot on my agenda that I wanted to do: reading, blogging, case study, etc. I came into the office much like Riggs and Murtaugh approaching the armored man, willing the pager not to go off.

"Don't go off pager. Stay quiet just for a while. Don't vibrate attached to my belt which causes my body instant anxiety. Don't go off. I will you not to page me."

BUUZZZZ!

Much like they leaped from the car in Lethal Weapon, I leaped from my seat very soon after arriving at the hospital. Throughout the day the pager thwarted my plans as I had approximately 20 calls (!) to attend to. The break down of those calls looks something like this:

2 deaths
2 Healthcare power of attorney consults
3 stroke assessments
2 emergency heart cathiderizations
3 traumas
2 code blues (patient's vitals crashing)
6 requested pastoral care visits.

I began around 9:00am, had time during the day to grab lunch and later dinner, but I didn't get to bed until 12:30am. A 15 hour work day. Whew.

I'm reminded of that old adage that says, "People make plans, God laughs." So my willing the pager to remain silent didn't work. I had a rough day. None of my own work got done. My will was not done. But I was also able to be a calm, caring, pastoral presence for many people that day who needed calmness in the midst of chaos. My hands were held during fragile intimate prayers, my eyes were looked into by one searching for hope, my advice was asked concerning tough medical decision, and I was hugged tightly by a heart broken new widow.

This list sounds more like what God has in mind for us: serving others, and in my context those who are in crisis. It's funny when I look back at my plan for that day versus what actually happened. My plans weren't satisfied; there were other needs to attend to. And when I think back to those hands holding mine, those eyes gazing at me and the arms embracing me, I'm sure glad I was available, glad I could offer a glimmer of hope, glad it wasn't my will being done.

Pink Slips

On the corner of my desk there's a stack of little pink slips of paper. Each time someone dies in the hospital we chaplains must obtain from the surviving family a small bit of information which I record on these pink slips.

It's been four months since this residency started and I've lost count of how many deaths I've attended. Each has been a different kind of somber in it's own way. Sadness is shown, tears are released and sometimes held back. Family members ask "why" questions: "Why did this happen?" "Why did he die so young?" One teenager , after his father was pronounced dead, looked at me in shock like a dear in headlights and asked with dry eyes, "Why can't I cry?"

This past Wednesday while on call for the day and night I attended six deaths among my calls for the day. My emotional reservoir, like the teenager's eyes, was dried up. You could say I was "all deathed out."

I'm on call again tomorrow, and I fear the stack of pink slips will grow again. After all, it's rare in a big hospital for no one to pass away within a 24 hour period.

Attending a death has become something I expect, yet it has not become something I am comfortable doing. I have learned to sympathize, empathize and at times protect myself erecting emotional boundaries. No strategy makes it any easier.

When a person dies, others hurt. There's emptiness, loneliness, shared pain and loss. These are things with which we can all identify, and therefore, we hurt as well.

In this way we all seem a bit more connected. After all, we will all experience death as well as losing someone to which we're close. The pink slips represent something we all must endure. They're symbols of our connectedness, our oneness as humans, our shared experience, our unity. For me, this gives reason to put an end to oppression, violence, acts that hurt others, because in the end we are only hurting ourselves.

These pink slips are reminders that, if in nothing else, by experiencing death and loss you are a part of me, and I am a part of you.

Punkin Pride

Last night, my wife made a genuine, bonafide, homemade pumkin pie. Her first one, and it is delicious!!!

She didn't cop out either by using cans of pie filling. This concoction originated from a jakalantern sized pumkin peeled, chopped and boiled down to powerfully pure product. The crust was from scratch as well.

She cut up and cooked down only half the pumkin which yeilded twice as much as needed. So naturally, I'm hoping this one pumkin will result in four mouth watering pies!

The pie is quite sweet, something I enjoy more than Heather who favors flavor over large quantities of sugar. The recipe called for three items that we opted not to include.

A small amount of burbon was called for, but we didn't want to buy a bottle just to use 1 tsp of it. Not to mention I wouldn't know how to find burbon in an ABC store any better than I would a push-up bra in Victoria's Secret.

To reduce the sweetness, Heather also left out the cane syrup. And thirdly, the recipe called for Cardamom, a rare spice. After visiting two grocery stores to find it, we decided to go without it rather than pay more than $11 for the small bottle.

Three ingredients short, this pie was still the best pumkin pie this pie lover has ever had. A little whip cream on top just before taking a bite of the still warm wonder put me in a number of momentary states of bliss.

I'm looking forward to more of those!

Changing Perspective

Revenge movies, our society is obsessed with them. Basic plot line: protagonist is wronged in some way at the beginning of the film. He or she then spends the rest of the time plotting, "or possibly scheming," on how to take revenge and kill the bad people.

And I must admit, I have been a fan of many movies within this genre. Coming to mind is Taken, Brave One, Punisher, Gladiator, Kill Bill, Eye for an Eye, Double Jeapardy, Payback and the most recent Law Abiding Citezen. I haven't seen all of these movies but many of them. Some, by the title, I can tell are revenge flicks (e.g. Payback, Eye for an Eye).

What is it about revenge that's so compelling? Somehow the film makers are usually able to put the audience on the side of the one doing the most violence. I recently saw Law Abiding Citizen. From an action point of view the movie delivered. The plot was intricate and well thought out. However, the theme of justifiable revenge purvading the film industry was not doing it for me with this movie. I feel I've had a change of perspective.

The extent in which Gerard Butler's character exacted his revenge was over the top and disturbing. Jamie Foxx played a DA who was also not the most wholesom of characters. There was no lovable character to this story to cling to.

I've begun ruminating on our culture's affinity for revenge. The Count of Monte Cristo is also a revenge movie that by the end makes a good point: revenge doesn't make us feel better. At the end of the book Edmond Dantes, having gotten his revenge, is left with a lonely depressed sense of loss. Happiness is an elusive stranger for him.

I wonder if that's why Jesus had no time for revenge? I wonder if he knew that vengence will only kill us from the inside? Jesus seemed to know that the only way to trump our dark desire for revenge is to act lovingly toward those who wrong us. After all, he asked God to forgive the very ones nailing him to a Roman death cross. Dietrich Bonhoeffer called this "costly grace," because it's not easy and it's not cheap.

And if none of this works for you, take Paul's advice who in Romans makes a hermeneutical joke by quoting Proverbs, "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head" (Rom. 12:20). Sounds a bit vengeful.

So, while in the past, I admit I have been entertained by revenge movies, they just don't spin my fan much anymore. I'm sure Hollywood will never quit making this genre; but perhaps they might consider a film about costly grace about loving those who hurt us the worst in order to find healing and wholeness, about overcoming evil with good rather than another kind of self-righteous evil. Though I don't think it would sell many tickets, it would be a pretty radical shift.

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." -John 16:33

{Picture: A Change in Perspective by kuschelirmel1}

Loving Listener

Since I began my residency as a hospital chaplain I've found it difficult to describe to folks just what a chaplain does. I've abandoned almost all efforts at describing the whole program of CPE, but I can still make attempts to convey what mysterious endevors we chaplain kind get into.

It's not easy though. Some people think we visit patients in the hospital to try and convert them. This couldn't be more wrong and is often a place of humor around the office. Others seem to think we simply pat sweet old ladies on the back saying, "there there." Though this does happen from time to time (minus the "there there") it's not representative of what a chaplain does.

Officially, chaplains tend to the emotional and spiritual needs of people in the hospital. But while this definition is somewhat telling, it is also vague.

At a meeting with some residents from another program, I came across a concept from theologian Paul Tillich called the "Loving Listener" which does as good a job as any describing what chaplains are after. Our handout reads, "A loving listener is one who will listen to our story without judging or giving advice. The loving listener listens with empathy, understanding and concern. A loving listern is one who will encourage us to pour out our feelings until they can be released and healing occures" (Lemons, Stephen A., The Five Tasks of Successful Grieving).

He went on to point out that everyone, ever person, needs a loving listener in his or her life. We need someone to whom we can spill our emotional and spiritual guts who will be non-judgmental and not try to fix our problems. Anyone who's done any kind of therapy (professional or otherwise) knows it's helpful to just get things off our chest. A loving listener can provide a safe space to do just that.

As chaplains, this is what we are trained to do, and sometimes we have to draw it out of people. Again, this is not a complete job description of what chaplains do; however, it is one of the profound and meaningful ways that we interact with other "living human documents."

I hope you have a loving listener in your life. If not, I hope you can find one, someone to unload your troubles onto. This will allow you to feel your own experience instead of suppress it, and that's healthy.

A helpful Chinese proverb reads, "Suppression leads to momentary relif and permanent pain. Feeling your expereince leads to momentary pain and permanent relief."

What does the Bible say...really?

When I was an adolescent and teenager I used to think that I'd heard or read pretty much everything in the Bible, and reading parts of it again just became mundane repitition. The Bible seemed boring. Boy was I wrong. The truth is, I was boring.

Whether you believe in God or not, whether you believe the Bible is inerrent or have put some actual thought into the matter, the Bible is full of many adventurous, exciting, often graphic, scandalous, sexual, murderous and random stories.

One of my favorites is the story of Ehud from Judges 3. Ehud, an Israelite brings a gift to the enemy king ruling over Israel. After the "gifting" ceremony, Ehud gets the obese king alone by speaking of a secret message. Once alone, Ehud, a left handed man "drew the sword from his right thigh and plunged it into the king's belly. Even the handle sank in after the blade, which came out his back. Ehud did not pull the sword out, and the fat closed in over it. Then Ehud went out to the porch; he shut the doors of the upper room behind him and locked them."

Not surprisingly, I didn't hear that one in Sunday school as a kid. And there's no need to embelish this little nugget, it's graphic enough by itself.

In Mark, there's a random appearance of a naked guy. "A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind."

Random, but okay...

Judges 4 graphically describes how an enemy general had a tent spike driven through his temple all the way to the ground while he was sleeping. Yikes!

I think if we spent half as much times reading the Bible rather than talking about the Bible we'd come to some pretty different conclusions. It turns my stomach often when people try to prove their own agenda by beginning sentences with, "Well, the Bible says..."

With the dawn of the internet, modern technology, and the persistence of the Gideons we have more access to the Bible than ever before, yet for some reason people seem to read it less. Now, this post is not meant to be a cheap guilt trip to get you to read the Bible or read it more. I do think, however, that people have lots of opinions about what the Bible says, but often little first hand experience to back up what they're saying. I've been in that crowd before too, so I'm no better.

I hope that as a community, Christians will begin again to read the Bible out of interest rather than guilt. Let's not use the Bible to promote our own cause but rather let it inspire a cause within us. So many of the storeis are radical, worthy of Hollywood's rendering. I hope we can more and more let the Bible speak instead of speaking for it.

Washer Whinings

My washing machine leaks water. This frustrates me. So I decided to try and fix it myself. After more than an hour of unscrewing, taking it apart and being crammed in a tiny space I finally located the source of the problem.

Running the washer while I watch carefully for the source of the leakage tears up my knees on the floor. But after quite a while of investigating eureka, I find the source, and it happens to be in the hardest to reach place possible. Uhg! Now I'm feeling hostile towards this white washer of wardrobes.

With the help of my father in law, we begin taking it apart further, following the direictions and moving at a good pace. Eventually we take off the agitator (that thing in the middle which turns the clothes all around), and we're only one oversized bolt away from victory.

The piece that we have to unscrew is 2 inches in diameter. I have a pair of channel locks that will grip that wide, but the warning from the instructions says to be careful because the piece is made from fragile aluminum...(oh come on, the hugest piece fastened on super tight has to be removed with care!! You've got to me kidding me!).

Sadly, my wimpy hands are unable to squeeze the channel locks hard enough while at the same time applying turning power to make any progress. Nathan Angrier! Father-in-law tries...also wimpy. We both try at the same time.....can you picture this scene?...Two sweaty men fumbling around trying to cram half way down into a washing machine tub and get anything accomplished? Well, it didn't work either.

I have a set of HUGE sockets and wrenches. After digging them from the closet we found the one that fit. Ah ha! This will do nicely. Huge wrench and huge socket were fitted over the huge bolt, and all of this led to a huge disappointment! Yar. My wimpiness culminated after almost popping a vien on my forehead attempting to loosen that blasted bolt, but like Aerosmith to eloquently said, "I can't get no satisfaction."

I was seething with anger. One bolt stood in between having a dry floor and having to clean up water everytime we wash clothes. But alas, with our tails tucked in shame, the two of us reassembled the cursed device accepting that fact that we just lost many man points.

Anyone else have any frustrating house projects they want to share?

Bucket Full of Tears

Who will wipe her tears? For her hands are not free to do so. They are busy. Busy holding her husband in that space between asleep and awake, between being alive and passed.

Kneeling beside her, the scene is sad enough for me to produce my own tears. But hers flow freely from her eyes down her cheeks like rain droplets down a window. Her husband's arm wrestles about when her hand is not in his. His head shifts to and fro till she places her sweaty palm on his bandaged forehead. But what do to with these tears. She has no way to wipe them, nowhere to put them. This is hard work.

With one hand gently on her shoulders I take a tissue and slowly clean the tears off her cheeks and from under her eyes, not trying to stop or ignore them but offering space for more. With no free hands this woman, wife, mother, friend and so much more has no one to manage her tears for her. In this way I can serve her.

I see many tears in my comings and goings in the hospital. Some try to hold them back, but they always come. Some don't know why they cry, but I give them permission anyway. Some feel fragile crying in front of people, others feel exposed. All seem to be wondering, "Who will take care of these tears?" It is my honor to respond with, "I will."

I find myself wondering the corridors of this labrinth gathering tears in my bucket, taking care of them when no one else can, leaving to find more. I have a bucket with me, it can hold your tears. No matter how many there may be there's always room.

This is the most painful, most sacred part of my job: gathering tears. And I am humbled.

"Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll-are they not in your record?" -Psalm 56:8