Yesterday, we did yardwork. Lots of it. A summer of 50 and 60 hour work weeks was evident on the outside of our home, as well as the inside. Bruce trimmed trees, finishing the cleanup necessary after that whiz bang storm a few weeks ago. I pulled weeds, dug up and cut back, and trimmed out overgrown this and that. And the kids collected the fruits of our labors and hauled them out back to the burn pit. The yard still needs work, but at least now it looks more like someone actually lives here.
We had planned to continue the process today. Bruce and Carolyn were to mow and edge the yard, while Kyle and I trimmed the hedges. This is a job I like-- wielding the hedge trimmer is a kick and a half (Yes, I love playing with power tools; I'd call it getting in touch with my masculine side, except I learned from my mom). Unfortunately, the rain started falling on the way to church, and hasn't stopped; so today I am reduced to watching the drizzle outside my window, and recovering from yesterday's efforts. No, my back is not the happiest it's been all summer, but it was worth it.
The good news-- the silver lining in this cloudy weather-- is that it left me with time to read Tripp's sermon. Do yourself a favor; go and do likewise. My brother has some good insights to share.
You know, here's something that they don't warn you about parenting: consent forms. No one stands in the delivery room and says, "By the way, Mom and Dad, you should be aware that, for the next eighteen years, you are going to be signing things so that people can do stuff with and to your kid."
Now, some of these forms are fun. School signups. Field trips. Softball registration.
I hereby give my consent for my child to grab the opportunity, to try, to go places, to play, to make friends, to learn about the world.
What's not to like?
But then there's the medical consent. The long list of possible side effects, and negative outcomes. And of course, in the interest of full disclosure, they're all there for you to read. The whole list, ranging from mild fever to sudden death. And even though you know the benefits far outweigh the risk, you still take a deep breath when you sign the form.
My right, and my responsiblity, defined in the blank next to my signature.
Relationship to Patient: Mother
It starts with vaccines when a child is 4 or 5 weeks old-- a tiny, helpless, irreplaceable little bundle of life. I held my breath then, and signed the paper, wishing I could guarantee that none of those things would happen, or at least I could take them on myself. And I've continued, through shots, and stitches, and emergency surgeries, for nearly 16 years-- right up to this morning. One more thing to consider, on top of trying not to think about the reasons the doctor might have ordered the test in the first place.
In the overall scheme of things, it's a very minor issue; but I hate this part of the job.
I found a new blog. It belongs to a Real Live Preacher, and he's got a word to say. I got hooked when I read his take on Superball Spirituality a couple weeks ago; so it's about time I shared.
Today I had a long talk with a friend of mine. We do this every once in a while - set aside time to check in with one another. He's an Episcopal priest, and so our conversation inevitably came around to the recent actions of General Convention.
He's hurt. And really angry.
Understand that he has been part of the conversation around the issue of same-sex unions for a long time-- years. He's participated in local dialogues, as well as the New Commandment Task Force sessions through the national church, and spent significant effort in prayer, reading and study. He has really struggled, trying to reconcile his more evangelical understanding of human sexuality and biblical teaching with the movement in the church toward recognition of monogamous homosexual unions. So, if any of the proposed liturgical resolutions had passed in any substantive form, he was geared to at least try to understand and accept.
Then Canon Robinson's nomination came up, scarcely a month before the Convention, and was passed almost before anyone had time to blink.
And now, what's the point? he asks. What's the point of continuing theological conversation, over what is a done deal? Why bother talking if no one cares to listen? Why bother listening if they're going to do what they want anyway, and say to hell with you, deal with it or leave?
Now, there are people that I love and respect on both sides of this issue-- committed, faithful Christians, trying to walk the talk. So, I know many of the arguments on both sides, really I do. Unfortunately, what I also see is the extremes getting the airtime. Intolerant indignation on one side. Self-righteous arrogance on the other.
Lots happening around here in the last few days...
Friday was my last day at the hospital. Man, what a conflicted day: I was ready for a break, but I really didn't want to leave. Just as well they took away my badge; otherwise I might have found myself striding purposefully through the lobby, on the way to rounds in the Burn Unit this morning. I am going to miss that place.
Saturday, we went downstate Illinois, to my cousin Kristy's wedding. It was... well, put it this way: it was the first shotgun wedding I've ever attended. Really. The father of the bride walked down the aisle with his only daughter on one arm, and an old muzzle loader on the other. I love my family, and they never cease to amaze me.
Here's a question for my clergy (and clergy-to-be) friends: if you're presiding, just how much "individuality" and "personal self-expression" do you allow, before you draw the line? What makes it unique and special, and what's too extreme to be part of the sacramental moment? Weddings are notorious for this, but it also can happen at other types of services as well.
Sunday we came home, and had more family over. My sister Janice and her boys, and Tripp, Trish and Susie came over to share my birthday cake. Yes, I'm "another year older, and deeper in debt." They all brought lots of general goofiness to share, laughter and silly stories, which is my idea of a great evening; the only drawback was that, eventually, everyone had to go home.
And this evening, I'm headed up to Seabury for another party, only this one's more bittersweet. My buddy Alex is shifting his seminary education to General, so we're saying goodbye to his cheerful blond countenance. Of course, I'm questioning your taste in theological education, leaving the sacred confines of The Block; but I do wish you all the best, bro. Keep that blog updated, okay?
1. What has your experience of your call to ministry been like? You came to it later in life (not too much). How was that?
It’s hard to give a short answer to that question, because it’s been a long road. It was not so “later in life” (I’m not THAT much older!) that I felt a call to ordained ministry; It’s been there, like an itch I couldn’t scratch, for a lot of years. It just took me a long time, and intense prayer, and finally, what Bruce terms “a ‘holy 2x4’ moment” to convince me to answer it. The reasons are several: early discouragement (too young, too female, too lots of things); the demands of job(s) and family; as well as efforts to scratch that itch with myriad other activities that exhausted me and made me more angry with God than anything else, for a time.
How was it, to finally follow this path? Rather like leaping off the high dive, and not being sure how much water is actually in the pool at the time. You should understand that I liked my life the way it was just fine, thank you very much. And then, suddenly--
--back to school after a lot of years, and in a discipline that bears very little resemblance to my early training (metallurgy has almost nothing in common with theology, and the only Greek I recognized was the little symbols used in equations in Calculus, chemistry and physics).
--Rearranging my life, and the lives of my family to boot.
--Piling up the mountain of debt that goes with a seminary education these days.
And all this because we (Bruce and I, and the community that is our parish) became convinced that this was what we needed to do. There’s not a lot of logic to it-- and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
2. Tell us about your daughter. How does she hold you up in your call?
Carolyn is 15 (16 in December), and just starting her sophomore year in high school. She has brown hair, green eyes, a dimple in her cheek and a stubborn chin. She loves to play softball, and prefers the middle positions: second base, shortstop, or center field. She’s an average batter, but has an arm that won’t quit. This surprises people, because at 5’1”, folks don’t expect her to be as strong as she is. She also plays the flute, and reads voraciously. She’s bright, and feisty, and opinionated, and often just plain fun, when she’s not aggravating the bejeebers out of us.
I am grateful to say that Carolyn has been, by and large, wonderfully supportive. She has been called upon to be rather more responsible than many of her friends, and generally has handled it well. Her contrary streak also takes a certain perverse pleasure in the shock value of it all--telling people what her mom is doing, just to see their reactions.
Some days are tough; but I’m proud of the way she’s handled it all, and daily strengthened by her love and support.
3. What prompted you and Bruce (the husband) to adopt a child?
Like many adoptive parents, we struggled with infertility issues. According to medical science, Carolyn shouldn’t be here; that’s why we called her our miracle baby. Several years later, when we came to the conclusion that we had apparently reached our miracle quota, we realized that our desire for another child did not include the need for a biological connection. Several months later, Kyle (now nearly 9) came into our lives. So, now we have two children: a miracle, and a gift.
4. You live in semi-rural Indiana. Why!?
After Kyle was born, we needed more room than we had. Bruce’s job was in sales at the time, so we could live anywhere in the Chicago area. Moving back to Indiana served two purposes: our house buying dollar went a lot further here, and it put us closer to family.
Our current home is something of a compromise. I grew up in suburbia, while Bruce was raised on a farm. I wanted neighbors, he wanted space. This was the happy medium.
5. When you are not engaging in our usual deep and edifying theological discourse, what do you like to do with your time?
Lately, I’ve mostly been sleeping!
Seriously, I enjoy cooking, though I’m a better at baked goods than entrees.
I also like to sew. What started as a hobby (young, broke housewife, wanting to make things for the family that we couldn’t afford to buy) has progressed over the years to a small side business, doing alterations as well as custom work (prom dresses, dance costumes and the like). A lot of that dropped off when I got sucked into the all-consuming nature of seminary; but I still take solace from retreating into my sewing space when “the world is too much with me.”
And not surprisingly, I read. A lot. Aside from the expected theological/devotional stuff, I like fantasy (Marion Zimmer Bradley, Mercedes Lackey) and mystery suspense (Tom Clancy, John D. MacDonald). I occasionally also succumb to an irrational weakness for torrid gothic trash-- big historical romance novels.
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Official Rules
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions
6. And, sure, I will answer reasonable follow up questions if you leave them in my comments.
Tripp is playing a new game on his blog. He volunteered to answer 5 interview questions posed to him. He picked it up elsewhere, and was intrigued enough to pass on the offer to his corner of the blogiverse. I was intrigued enough to take a deep breath and volunteer to let him pose questions for me to answer. I got the questions here just a while ago; but I have to complete my final evals for CPE (due tomorrow!) before I can sit down and contemplate the answers. Stay tuned, sports fans: navel gazing to follow.
Today begins my last week here at the hospital—so, when I wrote my weekly reflection to turn in this morning, I found myself reflecting over the whole unit this time, rather than only what went on in the last week or so.
Ten Things I’ve Learned on My Summer Vacation
10. I’ve learned acronyms. The medical profession is full of them, second only to the military in both frequency and complexity. CT, MRI, DNR, NPO… the list is endless. It must have rubbed off on us, because our group also developed a few of our own, as part of our experience here: DBE, AFGO, PWG. I find myself thinking in terms of them, even outside CPE at UCH (Look! There’s some more!).
9. I’ve learned about food. We are a group of adventuresome eaters here, and we’ve shared cultural favorites with enthusiasm. If someone ever offers you halo halo, seize the opportunity!
8. On a related note, I’ve learned what to eat in the hospital cafeteria, and what to avoid. Food there is rather like the old nursery rhyme: when it is good, it is very good; and when it is bad… there’s always the salad bar.
7. I’ve learned that laughter is indeed good medicine… and so are tears.
6. I’ve learned that most nurses are stretched too thin, most doctors are moving too fast, and most patients are frustrated.
5. I’ve learned that talking to someone in the hospital is far less important than listening to them.
4. I’ve learned that security guards—especially in the ER—often have a wicked sense of humor.
3. I’ve learned that the process of healing, whether body or soul, is painful; and that the hardest, most painful things to do are usually the most necessary.
2. I’ve learned that God is present in any situation I step into; and in fact, has arrived long before I got there, waiting to bring light into the darkest places, and holiness into the most profane inhumanity.
1. I’ve learned that Clinical Pastoral Education is fascinating and frustrating, heartbreaking and joyous, exhilarating and exhausting; and that the key to not only surviving, but thriving in the midst of it is the group you work with. Once again, it's all about community, friends.
The above is a traditional Chinese curse, which seems to fit the state of the Anglican Communion at the present.
Other friends in the blogiverse have been posting, not only their personal views on the issues from our General Convention, but messages from various ecclesial authorities; so I thought to join the party. Below is a pastoral letter from the Rt. Rev. Edward Stuart Little II, 7th Bishop of the Diocese of Northern Indiana. This was sent to all parishes, clergy and seminarians in the diocese.
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Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
I begin this pastoral letter with a word of thanks. You have supported, encouraged, and prayed for the General Convention deputies and me in a superbly faithful way these past few weeks. During the most difficult moments in Minneapolis, I was awed by the privilege of being the beneficiary of so much prayer. How blessed I am to be your bishop!
The 74th General Convention may well have been the most public moment our church has experienced in many a decade. While Convention dealt with a myriad of resolutions – from a sweeping revision of the canons on the ordination process to an exciting new vision for mission and evangelism called the 20/20 Movement – sexuality dominated the gathering from first to last. Foremost in everyone’s mind was the question, Should we give consent to the ordination and consecration of an openly gay, partnered man as Bishop Coadjutor of New Hampshire? A parallel issue concerned liturgy. Should General Convention ask the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music to draw up a rite for blessing same-sex unions? As you know from press reports, the answer to the first question was Yes. The House of Deputies easily, and the bishops with jurisdiction more narrowly, gave consent to Canon Robinson’s consecration. The second question produced a more complex response. General Convention passed a resolution that specifically did not call for the drafting of a rite; it did, however, “recognize that local faith communities are operating within the bounds of our common life as they explore and experience liturgies celebrating and blessing same-sex unions” (Resolution C051s). These words open themselves to a variety of interpretations, since it is unclear whether Convention simply recognizes the reality that liturgies are already being celebrated – or encourages them.
What does this mean for us in the Diocese of Northern Indiana? During the debate on Canon Robinson’s confirmation, I urged a No vote. To do otherwise, I believed then and believe now, would violate the unmistakable teaching of the Scriptures. Conscience allowed me no other stand. When Canon Robinson’s confirmation was announced, I stood with eighteen other bishops to disassociate ourselves from the decision. I believed then and believe now that this action represents a departure from the historic faith and order of the Church. But my speech on the floor of the House of Bishops included these words: “I am absolutely committed to Jesus Christ, absolutely committed to the Episcopal Church, absolutely committed to this House [of Bishops], absolutely committed to you, my brothers and sisters.” My convictions are set in the context of community. Just as nothing “will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:39), so nothing will separate me from this church which I love so deeply. I continue as a loyal member of the Episcopal Church and the happy bishop of this wonderful diocese. You and I are bound together, beloved friends. Even when we disagree on painful theological issues, Jesus has called us together.
The policies of this diocese remain unchanged. Candidates for ordination are expected to conform their lives to the scriptural standard that limits sexual intimacy to the setting of Holy Matrimony. Nor will I authorize the blessing of same-sex unions in the Diocese of Northern Indiana. These policies arise not from arbitrary assertions, but from the moral consensus which the Christian Church has maintained for two thousand years. We are not free, I believe, to tamper with the Word that God has revealed and the Church has taken to itself.
I understand that my words come as a comfort to some and a source of pain to others. In the past few weeks, I have received dozens of e-mails and letters representing a wide range of perspectives. Many argue their case with passion and deep conviction. Please know that I am grateful for these letters and for the trust that they imply. You have felt comfortable opening your heart to me, and that reminds me of how important it is for us to “maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:3). We are united indissolubly in baptism, to one another and to Jesus.
Because many gay and lesbian members of the Diocese of Northern Indiana have made a special point of reaching out to me, I speak a word directly to them: Jesus has brought us together in one church. It is no accident that you are members of the body of Christ in this diocese at this time. In 1976 General Convention passed a resolution which says, “Homosexual persons are children of God who have a full and equal claim with all other persons upon the love, acceptance and pastoral care of the church.” I take those words quite literally. You are my brothers and sisters in Christ. We are all recipients of the grace that invites us to know, love, and follow Jesus. I especially treasure the way that you have engaged my heart, challenged me to look into your faces, and called me to costly discipleship. You and I differ on a painful issue that directly affects your lives; but I pray that we can together commit ourselves to mutual love and discover new and unexpected ways of sharing our lives in Christ.
What of the future? Complex days lie ahead for the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, has invited the primates of the 38 provinces of the Communion to gather with him at Lambeth Palace in London on October 15-16. There they will take counsel in light of the Episcopal Church’s actions at General Convention. From this vantage, I cannot forecast what actions the primates may take or how those actions will impact the Episcopal Church. But whatever happens, I do know this: Jesus says, “I am with you always, to the close of the age” (Matthew 28:20). In that promise, there is no room for fear. To put it specifically, you and I have nothing to fear. Jesus will never abandon his church. He will help us to find a way forward as brothers and sisters. The best days of the Diocese of Northern Indiana are in the future, not the past. We will continue to celebrate our core values – a passion for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a heart for the lost, a willingness to do whatever it takes, and a commitment to one another – with joy and ever-deepening commitment. We will reach out to the unchurched with a Gospel that transforms lives, makes men and women whole, and brings hope to a hopeless world. Jesus has called us together.
I don't mean to be sexist here, but we as women are far more often the vicitms of sexual assault (rape is only one sort of this kind of evil). One in four of us will face that ugly truth first hand, and we all have that nightmarish possiblity in the back of our minds. As such, there's a few things that I want to say, just in case.
1. It is not your fault. It doesn't matter how you were dressed, where you went, how late you were out, or how much you drank. There is nothing that you could possibly have done to deserve to be treated that way. You are not responsible for your attacker's behavior.
2. Report what happened-- immediately. Call the police. The fire department. Your best friend. The sooner you let someone know, the sooner you can get help, physical, emotional, spiritual. This is not something that you can put out of your mind and expect to go away by itself. It won't.
3. Go to the hospital, just as you are. Do not go home and take a shower. Do not change your clothes, or comb your hair, or wash your hands, or brush your teeth, or go to the bathroom. Hot water will not cleanse your soul; all it does is destroy evidence.
4. Get help. The exam is not easy, and neither is answering the really blunt questions that must be asked; but it's easier when you've got someone to hold on to for support. Ask for a woman doctor. And then for someone to sit with you, to be at your side. This can be a spouse, a friend, a nurse-- or even the hospital chaplain. The same applies afterward, as long as you need it. Reaching for help doesn't make you weak-- it makes you human; and, in the long run, stronger.
The University of Chicago is way too big to be covered by one chaplain. No chance for doing rounds today; all I did was answer the on-call pager, and that was enough. Calls from around the hospital: patients dying or about to, and families needing conversation and prayer. Trauma cases in the ER, both children and adults. I learned the hard way how pastoral care and forensic evidence collection go together.
I was awake all night. So now I'm going to bed.
P.S. Oh, Frank-- about that infamous illustration in OT I? I never, ever thought I'd say it-- but thanks.
Yep, this is it. My final on call shift here at the hospital. It's not starting out easy: I've had two pages, so far, that have taken up most of my time since I got here at 8:30 this morning. That hope of a day without tears this week? I give up. If God wants me walking around dripping, I guess that's what I do.
But you know, this is the part of the work that I'll miss the most. I like my CPE group, but I'd be just as happy to meet for dinner and a movie, elsewhere. And verbatims? Ugh. You can have 'em.
But the patients... and the doctors, and nurses, and guards, and social workers, and plant maintenance, and the cleaning crew. I have had some amazing, holy encounters in this place. I have prayed, and been prayed for. At times I have spoken the Word that is laid upon my heart, and other times I have stepped back and let God speak in the silence. I have laughed until I was out of breath, and cried myself hoarse, and been stretched so thin that I didn't feel as though there was anything left.
Another slice in the life of a CPE Chaplain Intern:
Today I visited a possible tuberculosis patient, going stir crazy in her isolation room. Her life has been hard enough without this.
I sat with a woman while she learned that her adult daughter's transplant won't be possible-- and that her prognosis is very short term. Then I held her as she sobbed.
I listened and prayed with a man whose abdominal surgery the day before had revealed the recurrence of the cancer he thought he had beaten.
I have one simple, short-term goal for tomorrow: to go a whole day without crying.
My church-- my faith community-- my family-- has made the well-broadcast decision to ratify the election for bishop of a gay man currently living in a committed relationship. As a result, there are people rejoicing over the decisions of the church-- and people who are devestated, hurt and angry.
I am really torn by this. There are people I dearly love-- honest, caring, committed children of God-- on both sides of this issue. Brothers and sisters who feel vindicated, and those who feel betrayed. And I hear all this, and feel caught in the middle.
On top of that, I'm still in CPE, and today was... hard. A medical ethics review, where the role of pastoral care and chaplaincy was not simply unacknowledged, but actively dismissed. A patient whose pain, physical and spiritual, wrenched at my heart. And finally, a verbatim discussion that reached into old holes in my soul.
Tomorrow is another day, thanks be to God, because I've had about all of today that I can stand.
Events are proceding without me in Minneapolis. This has been a mild aggravation-- I've never been to General Convention, and I'd love to go. This year, I could stay cheap, too-- my brother and his family live just north of town, and so there's free room and board available. However, I am being the good chaplain intern (CPE doesn't end for three more weeks), so I'm limited to gazing from afar.
Fortunately, that's as easy as it's ever been, thanks to the Internet and my blogging buddies:
Alex is still there, with the Young Adult Service Corps.
Micah is hanging out with a youth delegation from the Diocese of Chicago.
Daily reports are also being provided here, courtesy of Brian Grantz, rector of St. Anne's, Warsaw, IN, chair of the Northern Indiana delegation, and all-around cool guy.
And I'm now getting daily emails from another delegate; Arlyne's also a member of my parish.
