In honor of National Hospice Month, I'd like to share some thoughts percolating in my mind. I want to reflect on why I am a hospice chaplain. Today's theme is about being an emotional caregiver.
I am a minister and emotional caregiver because I took to heart something a counselor told me as a teenager. She told me that the personality traits that appear as weaknesses or flaws can become our greatest strengths as well. I know, it sounds like self-help yoda-like drivel. And yet, it wouldn't sound so cheesy if there weren't truth to it. People say those things over and over and you just roll your eyes... until that one day when your soul is exposed and your heart emptied, waiting to be filled. And for whatever reason that bit of wisdom which you've heard with your brain is finally heard by the deep well within your heart. In other words, it is an "AHA!" moment. And she was the one to give me the wisdom at the exact time I was ready to hear it with my heart.
I truly believe that my vulnerabilities are my greatest strengths now. And the one that helps me as a hospice chaplain is sometimes called being a people-pleaser. There are other names for it: being a chameleon, being co-dependent, sometimes it manifests as being an over-functioner or a clingy hover-er. But I think it all comes down to the gift of empathy... or perhaps an intuitve emotion-reader.
So, I took to heart those words and transformed my empathy (that had once converted me into a introverted invisible ghost) into a useful tool, an instrument towards changing and shaping the world for the better. When I was a child absorbing the emotions in a room, I had no clue how to analyze, interpret and respond to them. Whether you call it an intuitive gift or a keen sense to the subtle clues like body language and voice inflection, it is something that has always been a part of me. I would become overwhelmed by it and the only way I knew how to protect myself was to either keep the people in the room happy or to shut down emotionally.
But since seeing that counselor in high school, I have continuously strove towards understanding how people interrelate -what makes each person tick and what happens when 2 or more people are in a room together as well as the how and why of it all. Most of all, I aimed for goals to understand myself better, to strengthen the gifts I have and challenge myself to overcome obstacles. I now know boundaries and have channeled my gifts towards easing the emotional burden of those facing death and/or experiencing loss. It takes advantage of my strengths while helping me transform something that could be harmful (pleasing people to the point of self-harm) into a beautiful tool to help others.
The journey towards personal transformation is a lifetime pursuit. While I feel good about where I am, I also know that the people I meet can teach so much more than I can imagine. I feel blessed by the fertile ground hospice provides for transformation and serenity. The next installment will answer why am i a spiritual care provider.
Monday, November 01, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sitting in the Dark, A Sermon
Isaiah 9:1-4The light casting out the darkness is a great image for how our faith in God works sometimes. God is my light and my salvation. God delivers me from the darkness and shadows haunting me. I like these images and use them often to comfort myself.
But there will be no gloom for those who were in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined. You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder. For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.
Matthew 4:12-23
Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the lake, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: ‘Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles— the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.’ From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’
But lately I’ve been wondering what is so horrible about the dark. There are times when being in the dark comforts me. With all the lights out, I can relax and focus on my breathing and my heart beat. I can think without the distraction of seeing the pile of things I need to do. In the dark, I rest when my head hurts or I am tired. In the dark I can listen better, whether music on my stereo or the words my husband is telling me. When it is dark, I can see better the lights that are dimmer or are far away from me.
What is scary to me about the darkness is what I don’t know. I don’t know what made that creaking sound in the living room. I don’t know how far I can walk before hitting my shin on the coffee table. Like many kids, I was afraid to sleep completely in the dark. With the hallway light glowing behind me, I would run from the door and make a flying leap onto my bed. I was scared there might be a man under my bed who would grab my ankle. I was afraid of what I couldn’t see but could only imagine. The darkness also feels unbearable to me when I am feeling all alone. Despite my desire to not waste energy, when I lived alone in seminary I would sometimes turn on all the lights in my apartment and turn on the television even though I wasn’t watching it… just because I had this strong realization I was alone. It is not the darkness itself that threatens us, it is the emotions that we associate with darkness that endanger us.
When our spiritual path is filled with darkness, what are we truly in danger of? When my life is going through lots of changes and hardships, what is it that casts shadows on my spirit? Just like walking in the dark, it is the fear of the unknown. I cannot see the bumps in my path, and yet like a child staring at the slightly open closet door, I imagine the worst possibilities. I am certain that there is something in the shadows waiting to get me. And when I am facing the unknown and my spirits are shaky, I can feel particularly isolated and alone.
Sometimes, we are not able to get out of the darkness right away. So much in our lives are not in our control. For better or worse, we don’t choose what family we are born into, we can’t control the craziness in society and the atrocities in the news. We don’t choose the time we are born or the time we die. We do not choose the time we get sick or lose a job. No matter how we try, we can’t always will ourselves out of the darkness. We don’t always know what to do or where to go. The unknown doesn’t always reveal itself to us just because we want it to.
How, then, do we live in the darkness? Is there a way to find rest in the dark? Is there a way to find safety and security in the dark?
As I got older, I became less and less scared to sleep in the dark. What has changed? I now trust the reality I can hear, touch and see. I trust the locks on my doors to keep out intruders and the dog to bark if a stranger is near. I know that the walls of my house are protecting me from the cold. And I avoid tripping over things in the dark by walking slowly and holding onto the doorjamb and wall as I walk. And best of all, I have a lamp next to my bed that is always within reach when I need the reassurance of light.
On our spiritual path, I trust God to protect me and guide me through the dark. I may not feel God’s presence, but I know God’s there. Just like in the dark when I cannot see the walls of my house or the locks on my door, I still know they are there. I know God is there. I lean on Jesus when I am afraid I will stumble or fall. Jesus is my touching stone in uncertain times and I know his love and wisdom will guide me when I cannot see the way. When the way is so dark and I feel so alone, prayer, worship and fellowship with my community are the lamps I turn on when I need the light of God’s lamp to reassure me. The lamp of God’s light is always there waiting for me to turn it on when I need it.
For as the psalmist says: God is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? God is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? For God will hide me in God's shelter in the day of trouble; God will conceal me under the cover of God's tent; God will set me high on a rock. May God’s light warm you and provide you comfort all your days. Amen.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
A note to myself for further reflection...
On the eve of a much anticipated vacation, I experienced another first in my path as a chaplain. I want to write about it and hope I will someday. But tonight I'm still wrapping my head and heart around the experience. Going on a 10 day vacation with no computer. It will be journal writing for that. Perhaps I'll share my reflections when I get back.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Spices, passion, and choices
A day off and nothing to do. Well, that's not true. But while compiling the list to do, I began thinking of my blogs. I don't have much opportunity to write anymore. It's something about grad school that I miss... shh.. don't tell anyone. ;) I really do have a lot of thoughts in my head about a lot of topics. But occassionally in my life I have needed some down time from contemplating the global interconnectedness and other BS that I love. There has been a longing in me to experience more of this wonderful thing called life, to meet more interesting people, create a family to love and be loved in return, and finding the adventurous wonder of a simple life. If only all that self-help mumbo jumbo in the"The Secret" were true, my will and intention would have conquered the world for me by now. That's not true, since I have no desire to conquer anything, though it sounds like the right thing to say.
What I do like about "The Secret" is the idea that we are masters of our own destiny. There is A LOT that is out of our hands... and sometimes there is too much trash raining around us to get out of it completely, but if we take what IS in our hands, we can do more than just change our life, we can transform our perception of our life. This is not about living in illusions, or delusions if you prefer. This is about seeing the world so radically different, it's almost as if we've developed another sense.
A. and I watched a lovely movie called "Mistress of Spices" based on a book of the same name. It's been compared to the movie Chocolat, but I think the story shares a common human theme. And it reminded me of who I am.
There are so many different paths and personalities in humanity, but one of them carries people whose heads live in the clouds, whose hearts demand service to others, and whose metaphysical perception of the world is different than people on other paths. Saints, humanitarians, both famous and infamous, inventors, artists and the like are often on this path. And this path can consume a person with passion for others, for their vision, for the future of the world, for the intangible. This path is not straight and not without sideroads, options. And one of these options is whether they will lead a "normal" life or live only for their cause or passion. The third option is trying to live with both the bigger dream to make a difference and the personal dream of happiness with a partner and family. So many brilliant people like this burst in radiant transformation of the world and fizzle out hard and fast. Others try to walk the tightrope between worlds, struggling to find happiness in simple living and to work in their passion. While others deny their passion, choosing their daily life over bigger dreams. Ultimately, there is heartache and tragedy, but there is also a radical choice to make the most of what's in front of you, to find your own happiness while fighting for the happiness for the entire universe.
I'm not sure if any of this makes sense or not. To me it does. In my life, I chose to become a chaplain, to find and claim a partner in life, and be open to the possibility that I may some day go after my passion to transform the world Regan-style. But right now, here in this moment, all I want to do is experience the life of a mother. I'm beginning to accept that perhaps the universe will not bend to my desire the way I want it to.
Perhaps I will have to practice what I preach and change my perspective of what it means to be a mother, to be a woman. Perhaps I might never be pregnant and experience the power of creation within me. I can think of this more often now and not cry. I can remember what my passion truly is, what my impetus is in this crazy world, and remember that creation exists in many forms, as many forms as love has.
Whether my family grows within my womb or not, it will grow. And with that will come my strength, my foundation. Because I do not want to fizzle and burn. I do not want the misery of a lonely heart. I do not want to face my demons or the evil in the world without that foundation to ground me. And with my strength through them, I can perhaps do a small part in the transformation of the world.
What I do like about "The Secret" is the idea that we are masters of our own destiny. There is A LOT that is out of our hands... and sometimes there is too much trash raining around us to get out of it completely, but if we take what IS in our hands, we can do more than just change our life, we can transform our perception of our life. This is not about living in illusions, or delusions if you prefer. This is about seeing the world so radically different, it's almost as if we've developed another sense.
A. and I watched a lovely movie called "Mistress of Spices" based on a book of the same name. It's been compared to the movie Chocolat, but I think the story shares a common human theme. And it reminded me of who I am.
There are so many different paths and personalities in humanity, but one of them carries people whose heads live in the clouds, whose hearts demand service to others, and whose metaphysical perception of the world is different than people on other paths. Saints, humanitarians, both famous and infamous, inventors, artists and the like are often on this path. And this path can consume a person with passion for others, for their vision, for the future of the world, for the intangible. This path is not straight and not without sideroads, options. And one of these options is whether they will lead a "normal" life or live only for their cause or passion. The third option is trying to live with both the bigger dream to make a difference and the personal dream of happiness with a partner and family. So many brilliant people like this burst in radiant transformation of the world and fizzle out hard and fast. Others try to walk the tightrope between worlds, struggling to find happiness in simple living and to work in their passion. While others deny their passion, choosing their daily life over bigger dreams. Ultimately, there is heartache and tragedy, but there is also a radical choice to make the most of what's in front of you, to find your own happiness while fighting for the happiness for the entire universe.
I'm not sure if any of this makes sense or not. To me it does. In my life, I chose to become a chaplain, to find and claim a partner in life, and be open to the possibility that I may some day go after my passion to transform the world Regan-style. But right now, here in this moment, all I want to do is experience the life of a mother. I'm beginning to accept that perhaps the universe will not bend to my desire the way I want it to.
Perhaps I will have to practice what I preach and change my perspective of what it means to be a mother, to be a woman. Perhaps I might never be pregnant and experience the power of creation within me. I can think of this more often now and not cry. I can remember what my passion truly is, what my impetus is in this crazy world, and remember that creation exists in many forms, as many forms as love has.
Whether my family grows within my womb or not, it will grow. And with that will come my strength, my foundation. Because I do not want to fizzle and burn. I do not want the misery of a lonely heart. I do not want to face my demons or the evil in the world without that foundation to ground me. And with my strength through them, I can perhaps do a small part in the transformation of the world.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Partners in Love, a wedding homily
Wedding Homily:
We use and hear the word love all the time. “Oh, I just LOVE that shirt” or “Oh, Brad Pitt is so dreamy, I LOVE him”. I have a friend that when she gets drunk, puts her arm around whoever is next to her and says “I LOVE you”. I think she means it when she says it. And we all should understand the difference between the love among family and love for objects or things, including sexy movie stars. But, I do believe that flinging the word around casually can be dangerous.
On the opposite spectrum, we have the fairy tale, media promoting ideal of true love. How many little girls and boys watch Disney movies and think that all their dreams will come true if they find the perfect prince or princess, have a fancy wedding, and make lots of babies? And how many of them become broken hearted, disillusioned, and start thinking something is wrong with them, because they can’t find true love?
As a pastor, I truly believe that the reason we are all put here on earth is to love one another. However, we weren’t put here to love our favorite TV show or jeans. And our lives will never revolve around only one person.
Now, there are wonderful moments in our lives where we think that we will never love someone as much as we love right now. These moments, often at times of birth or new romance are blessings. When we see a new baby for the first time or are walking along with a goofy smile on your face because you get to see your new love. .. Those are moments where love overwhelms and overflows.
But what I suggest to you, and what I think God blesses us with, is the ability to expand our heart each time we love to fit more people in it. Of course, I don’t mean the literal beating heart. What I mean is the place inside of us, the spirit or soul within us, that expands and grows exponentially to fit the people in our lives.
We are God’s creation and created in God’s image. And I believe that God’s love for us is limitless and we are given that same capacity to love large. That doesn’t mean that love answers everything. If you listen to the wedding vows carefully, it isn’t all “Happily Ever After”. In fact, there is more about standing beside each other in the storms of life than there is about all the gushy, mushy stuff that little girls dream of.
There has been love between E. and D. for a while now. They have already stood beside each other through many storms. There have been hard tragedies, especially the loss of T. But their love was there. There have been scary heart-wrenching moments, like when D. had his heart attack. But their love was there. And there have been days, we all know it’s true for them and every couple, where they don’t really like each other that much. But their love was there. And that love overflows and includes their sons and granddaughters, their parents, family and friends. They do not stand here as an island, joined only to each other. When they make a commitment to each other to continue loving and being partners through life, you all are included in that.
As we go through the vows, I encourage you to remember not only what I’ve said, but also what the Scripture says. The Song of Solomon says “Set me as a seal upon your arm; for love is as strong as death, passion as fierce as the grave. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.”
We use and hear the word love all the time. “Oh, I just LOVE that shirt” or “Oh, Brad Pitt is so dreamy, I LOVE him”. I have a friend that when she gets drunk, puts her arm around whoever is next to her and says “I LOVE you”. I think she means it when she says it. And we all should understand the difference between the love among family and love for objects or things, including sexy movie stars. But, I do believe that flinging the word around casually can be dangerous.
On the opposite spectrum, we have the fairy tale, media promoting ideal of true love. How many little girls and boys watch Disney movies and think that all their dreams will come true if they find the perfect prince or princess, have a fancy wedding, and make lots of babies? And how many of them become broken hearted, disillusioned, and start thinking something is wrong with them, because they can’t find true love?
As a pastor, I truly believe that the reason we are all put here on earth is to love one another. However, we weren’t put here to love our favorite TV show or jeans. And our lives will never revolve around only one person.
Now, there are wonderful moments in our lives where we think that we will never love someone as much as we love right now. These moments, often at times of birth or new romance are blessings. When we see a new baby for the first time or are walking along with a goofy smile on your face because you get to see your new love. .. Those are moments where love overwhelms and overflows.
But what I suggest to you, and what I think God blesses us with, is the ability to expand our heart each time we love to fit more people in it. Of course, I don’t mean the literal beating heart. What I mean is the place inside of us, the spirit or soul within us, that expands and grows exponentially to fit the people in our lives.
We are God’s creation and created in God’s image. And I believe that God’s love for us is limitless and we are given that same capacity to love large. That doesn’t mean that love answers everything. If you listen to the wedding vows carefully, it isn’t all “Happily Ever After”. In fact, there is more about standing beside each other in the storms of life than there is about all the gushy, mushy stuff that little girls dream of.
There has been love between E. and D. for a while now. They have already stood beside each other through many storms. There have been hard tragedies, especially the loss of T. But their love was there. There have been scary heart-wrenching moments, like when D. had his heart attack. But their love was there. And there have been days, we all know it’s true for them and every couple, where they don’t really like each other that much. But their love was there. And that love overflows and includes their sons and granddaughters, their parents, family and friends. They do not stand here as an island, joined only to each other. When they make a commitment to each other to continue loving and being partners through life, you all are included in that.
As we go through the vows, I encourage you to remember not only what I’ve said, but also what the Scripture says. The Song of Solomon says “Set me as a seal upon your arm; for love is as strong as death, passion as fierce as the grave. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.”
Monday, February 22, 2010
Guest Blogger I was.
Brian & Sara Brandsmeier host a wonderful blog called Ephphatha Poetry. A few weeks ago Brian asked if I would write a reflection on a NY Times article on their blog. Here is the result.
Article: Flock Is Now a Fight Team in Some Ministries
Response: Christian Fight Club: A Reflection by Regan Doyle Saoirse
There's also another response to the article on there as well that provides great insight. Be sure to keep tabs on their blog. They share some great reflections about various topics in progressive christianity.
Article: Flock Is Now a Fight Team in Some Ministries
Response: Christian Fight Club: A Reflection by Regan Doyle Saoirse
There's also another response to the article on there as well that provides great insight. Be sure to keep tabs on their blog. They share some great reflections about various topics in progressive christianity.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Going Home means so many things
Today I attended the funeral for one of my patients. I will call her Rose.
It was a fire and brimstone kind of funeral... granted, the fire and brimstone were alluded to in gentler terms, but it's still the same message. This pastor apparently met Rose years ago and then visited her a month or so before she died. He kept on making references to her strong faith being obvious and her commitment to the Lord, etc. Rose hadn't been well enough to attend church in years. In the time I knew her, she never had a pastor visit her until him. Her only connection was a distant relation, Connie, who brought her the bulletin that printed her name on the prayer list every Sunday.
The woman I remember was angry at God for her disease, suffering, and dying... compounded by the fact her church upbringing said she shouldn't be mad at God or even question what her lot in life was. Subsequently, she bottled her immense rage at God and refused to talk about it, pray about it, or discuss anything about religion (except the snippets I picked up here and there), because she was afraid. She was afraid to be angry at God.... the harsh judging god preached at fire and brimstone funerals. Rose also was bitter about how the church forgot her. She was bitter about the time, money and faith she put into her church that ultimately forgot about her. I'm not sure she would have even been on the prayer list if Connie hadn't made sure of it.
I'll tell you her story from my perspective. Granted, it's limited to the final months of her life, but I believe that this story reflects her struggle, her faith, and where she felt she was going upon death.
Rose began on hospice while living in an assisted living facility. She was able to walk and talk about interesting topics. She picked up after herself, chose from the menu, took walks around the garden area. She had some odd behavior that kept her isolated and alone most of her life, but most of the time friendly and easy to get along with. She had metastatic breast cancer spreading through her bones and organs. About 1.5 years later, Rose was in a nursing home and on her death bed. Her mind and brain began to be affected, either by the growing cancer or the insane amount of drugs needed to withstand the pain. Skin and bones, except where the cancer swelled. Cancerous bones turned into sponge. Bumps of cancer on her breast bone and ribs, some of them oozing. Violent and angry paranoia, hallucinations, uncontrollable shaking, too weak to lift a tissue to her mouth, incontinence, and absolutely no more power to make her own decisions, despite the occasional lucid moment (which occurred less and less).
Last week I visited Rose after she had some scary apnea during sleep and woke up acting paranoid and hallucinating. I relieved the hospice nurse who was caring for Rose and sat with her for a couple hours. In her few lucid moments, I helped Rose drink water and half an Ensure shake. She received some meds for her pain and despite almost drowsing off, woke up and began being violently angry and hallucinating. I left for a few minutes when Connie came to visit... returned after she was gone and the patient desperately wanted to get dressed and go home. She just HAD to get out of there. There were various stories and reasons, people she said were trying to get her, her money was stolen, etc. I talked with her calmly and took her orders to "Stand there" or "Sit there". I was hoping the medicine would kick in and she would dose off.
I finally shut off the small room light, making the hallway light the only illumination. I sat on a chair, leaned towards Rose and held her hand. She was still tugging on it as best she could to convince me to help her up so she could go home. Something about the way she said it that time, with such desperation and exhaustion, made me realize that maybe her brain was confusing which "home" she meant. So, I said to her
"You're right Rose, it is time to go home."
She nodded sagely at me, still gripping my hand. I said
"And I think Jesus is waiting for you there."
She looked at me for a moment and then whispered
"I think he is too."
Tears were in my eyes, of course, then I told her, "I love you, Rose, and I'm really going to miss you." Her eyes got droopy and I hoped that meant she was going to sleep. But, they popped back open and she began to tell me people were stealing her money and I better get her out of there. Then her eyes drooped again. We did this a couple times and then I asked her if she remembered any hymns or Sunday School songs. I sang "Jesus Loves Me" a couple times and her whole body quieted, and she started humming and mumbling words occasionally. Then I sang "This Little Light of Mine" and "Amazing Grace". She drifted in and out and hummed randomly with me.
When I told her that I was going and would be back tomorrow, she said "You know I may not be here;I'm going to leave too". I told her that I knew and it was okay. I left her calm and drowsy, though it didn't last long. As I rounded the corner at the end of the sterile nursing home hallway, I heard her calling for someone to help her get her coat so she could leave.
I saw her again the next morning and it was 4 more days before she died.
The end.
It was a fire and brimstone kind of funeral... granted, the fire and brimstone were alluded to in gentler terms, but it's still the same message. This pastor apparently met Rose years ago and then visited her a month or so before she died. He kept on making references to her strong faith being obvious and her commitment to the Lord, etc. Rose hadn't been well enough to attend church in years. In the time I knew her, she never had a pastor visit her until him. Her only connection was a distant relation, Connie, who brought her the bulletin that printed her name on the prayer list every Sunday.
The woman I remember was angry at God for her disease, suffering, and dying... compounded by the fact her church upbringing said she shouldn't be mad at God or even question what her lot in life was. Subsequently, she bottled her immense rage at God and refused to talk about it, pray about it, or discuss anything about religion (except the snippets I picked up here and there), because she was afraid. She was afraid to be angry at God.... the harsh judging god preached at fire and brimstone funerals. Rose also was bitter about how the church forgot her. She was bitter about the time, money and faith she put into her church that ultimately forgot about her. I'm not sure she would have even been on the prayer list if Connie hadn't made sure of it.
I'll tell you her story from my perspective. Granted, it's limited to the final months of her life, but I believe that this story reflects her struggle, her faith, and where she felt she was going upon death.
Rose began on hospice while living in an assisted living facility. She was able to walk and talk about interesting topics. She picked up after herself, chose from the menu, took walks around the garden area. She had some odd behavior that kept her isolated and alone most of her life, but most of the time friendly and easy to get along with. She had metastatic breast cancer spreading through her bones and organs. About 1.5 years later, Rose was in a nursing home and on her death bed. Her mind and brain began to be affected, either by the growing cancer or the insane amount of drugs needed to withstand the pain. Skin and bones, except where the cancer swelled. Cancerous bones turned into sponge. Bumps of cancer on her breast bone and ribs, some of them oozing. Violent and angry paranoia, hallucinations, uncontrollable shaking, too weak to lift a tissue to her mouth, incontinence, and absolutely no more power to make her own decisions, despite the occasional lucid moment (which occurred less and less).
Last week I visited Rose after she had some scary apnea during sleep and woke up acting paranoid and hallucinating. I relieved the hospice nurse who was caring for Rose and sat with her for a couple hours. In her few lucid moments, I helped Rose drink water and half an Ensure shake. She received some meds for her pain and despite almost drowsing off, woke up and began being violently angry and hallucinating. I left for a few minutes when Connie came to visit... returned after she was gone and the patient desperately wanted to get dressed and go home. She just HAD to get out of there. There were various stories and reasons, people she said were trying to get her, her money was stolen, etc. I talked with her calmly and took her orders to "Stand there" or "Sit there". I was hoping the medicine would kick in and she would dose off.
I finally shut off the small room light, making the hallway light the only illumination. I sat on a chair, leaned towards Rose and held her hand. She was still tugging on it as best she could to convince me to help her up so she could go home. Something about the way she said it that time, with such desperation and exhaustion, made me realize that maybe her brain was confusing which "home" she meant. So, I said to her
"You're right Rose, it is time to go home."
She nodded sagely at me, still gripping my hand. I said
"And I think Jesus is waiting for you there."
She looked at me for a moment and then whispered
"I think he is too."
Tears were in my eyes, of course, then I told her, "I love you, Rose, and I'm really going to miss you." Her eyes got droopy and I hoped that meant she was going to sleep. But, they popped back open and she began to tell me people were stealing her money and I better get her out of there. Then her eyes drooped again. We did this a couple times and then I asked her if she remembered any hymns or Sunday School songs. I sang "Jesus Loves Me" a couple times and her whole body quieted, and she started humming and mumbling words occasionally. Then I sang "This Little Light of Mine" and "Amazing Grace". She drifted in and out and hummed randomly with me.
When I told her that I was going and would be back tomorrow, she said "You know I may not be here;I'm going to leave too". I told her that I knew and it was okay. I left her calm and drowsy, though it didn't last long. As I rounded the corner at the end of the sterile nursing home hallway, I heard her calling for someone to help her get her coat so she could leave.
I saw her again the next morning and it was 4 more days before she died.
The end.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
2009 in a nutshell (Christmas letter)
Dear Friends and Family, December 2009
We hope this letter finds you well. We are doing well after surviving another year of being newlyweds. For me, the biggest change was becoming ordained in March this year. The service was unique and fun and a great way to celebrate the end of a long journey. I continue to work as a chaplain for Hospice in about 7 counties around the KC region as well as PRN work at the Hospital.
One of the most exciting things for A. was earning his driver’s license motorcycle endorsement in March and purchasing a 1983 Yamaha Seca 750. He rode it on his commute to work in Topeka most days. It was a great way to enjoy the round trip to work.
Our garden experiment went pretty well for a first attempt. Though the grass and weeds were a constant fight, we grew tomatoes, celery, peppers, squash, green beans, lettuce, onions and cucumbers with success.
No big vacations this year, but we did enjoy a nice long weekend seeing the sights in Kansas. We enjoyed the museums in Atchison and the Brookville Hotel fried chicken dinner. We camped at Lake Wilson, toured the Garden of Eden, and then went to Hays, Regan’s birth place.. We ended the trip seeing the rock formations at Rock City. Never knew there was so much to see in Kansas did you?
In October, A. found a full time permanent job. He helps clients with filling out the Free Application for Federal Student Aid. While he enjoyed doing technical support, with his new job he has a great work environment and opportunities for advancement.
A. also achieved 2 belts in Okinawan Kenpo this year, his orange and blue belt. It’s fun teaching the new white belt beginners in class despite their confusion between left and right.My back has been improving with PT and water aerobics. I hope to start back to karate in January.
I rescued a kitten that was lying in the middle of a busy highway. After recovering from her wounds, Lucky Francis stayed with us for a couple months until she was old enough to be fixed. The holy terror kitten now entertains A.’s mom and her indoor cat Squeekers.
There were plenty of other great memories and blessings. Again, you and yours are in our thoughts and prayers and we’d enjoy hearing from you. Many blessings to you!
Love,
Regan
We hope this letter finds you well. We are doing well after surviving another year of being newlyweds. For me, the biggest change was becoming ordained in March this year. The service was unique and fun and a great way to celebrate the end of a long journey. I continue to work as a chaplain for Hospice in about 7 counties around the KC region as well as PRN work at the Hospital.
One of the most exciting things for A. was earning his driver’s license motorcycle endorsement in March and purchasing a 1983 Yamaha Seca 750. He rode it on his commute to work in Topeka most days. It was a great way to enjoy the round trip to work.
Our garden experiment went pretty well for a first attempt. Though the grass and weeds were a constant fight, we grew tomatoes, celery, peppers, squash, green beans, lettuce, onions and cucumbers with success.
No big vacations this year, but we did enjoy a nice long weekend seeing the sights in Kansas. We enjoyed the museums in Atchison and the Brookville Hotel fried chicken dinner. We camped at Lake Wilson, toured the Garden of Eden, and then went to Hays, Regan’s birth place.. We ended the trip seeing the rock formations at Rock City. Never knew there was so much to see in Kansas did you?
In October, A. found a full time permanent job. He helps clients with filling out the Free Application for Federal Student Aid. While he enjoyed doing technical support, with his new job he has a great work environment and opportunities for advancement.
A. also achieved 2 belts in Okinawan Kenpo this year, his orange and blue belt. It’s fun teaching the new white belt beginners in class despite their confusion between left and right.My back has been improving with PT and water aerobics. I hope to start back to karate in January.
I rescued a kitten that was lying in the middle of a busy highway. After recovering from her wounds, Lucky Francis stayed with us for a couple months until she was old enough to be fixed. The holy terror kitten now entertains A.’s mom and her indoor cat Squeekers.
There were plenty of other great memories and blessings. Again, you and yours are in our thoughts and prayers and we’d enjoy hearing from you. Many blessings to you!
Love,
Regan
Monday, December 14, 2009
Some Words on Infant Loss
I once again used the 1 Corinthians 13 Text. This was for a dear friend's baby.
In this evening’s reflection, I’m going to pass on a couple ideas for you to ponder tonight. Please be patient with my tears.
God is very different for all of us. What I mean when I say "God" is not the same as what you mean. People who attend the same church or grow up in the same family will have very different views of who God is. The same goes for the meaning and purpose of life and death. Some of this is because of the particular events that shape our perspective of the world. Some of this is because of the language and words we learn. The list of reasons why we all think differently about God, life and death is endless… and, surprisingly enough, religion is only a small part of it.
This week a tragic event occurred that has shaped everyone here in this room and a few outside it too. A baby has died before being able to experience life outside the womb. No matter how you are related to Baby G, his death has impacted you and how you see life and death. However, it has impacted no one as much as it has his parents and brother. There will be countless days of tears as they face a future on earth without Baby G beside them. But there will also be moments of gratitude and appreciation for the time Baby G did spend with them, the sonogram pictures, listening to his heartbeat, the joy of adding to their family, and the love they felt for him.
Love is a gift that we sometimes forget to cherish and appreciate as much as we should. As a society, we gather at weddings and funerals and maybe an occasional holiday or two as a sign of caring, of love. However, we forget in the daily activities of life to show that same appreciation. The time with Baby G was very brief. But it was filled with love. Each moment he was here his mother, father and brother made sure that Baby G felt loved and cherished, that he knew his presence in their family was anticipated with great joy and hope.
When Baby G died, he was cocooned in his mother’s womb, their heartbeats only inches from each other. He did not die alone and isolated, without love or comfort. Just the opposite, he was as close to another human being as any of us will ever get.
I suggest to you that one way this tragedy may shape you is an understanding of God as love, of the meaning of life and death being love. Love never ends. Love is what keeps us going, day after day, tragedy after tragedy. Love is what will get you through this. Love never ends.
The absence of Baby G in our lives will be horribly hard. But if we see God as love, if the meaning of it all is love, then perhaps part of that love is also letting go. Most of the people we will have to let go of in our lives will not be so sudden and so tragic, but letting go is part of being a parent, it’s part of being a child. There is not a part of life that does not entail letting go of someone you love. The permanence of Baby G’s absence may make it feel different somehow. However, the universe is what, over 13 billion years old? The years we will be separated from him will be brief in comparison. So, this isn’t goodbye forever, this is until we meet again. Because Love NEVER ends. NEVER.
So, while we may never agree on who God is or what the meaning and purpose of life and death are, perhaps we can all agree that part of the answer is love.
In this evening’s reflection, I’m going to pass on a couple ideas for you to ponder tonight. Please be patient with my tears.
God is very different for all of us. What I mean when I say "God" is not the same as what you mean. People who attend the same church or grow up in the same family will have very different views of who God is. The same goes for the meaning and purpose of life and death. Some of this is because of the particular events that shape our perspective of the world. Some of this is because of the language and words we learn. The list of reasons why we all think differently about God, life and death is endless… and, surprisingly enough, religion is only a small part of it.
This week a tragic event occurred that has shaped everyone here in this room and a few outside it too. A baby has died before being able to experience life outside the womb. No matter how you are related to Baby G, his death has impacted you and how you see life and death. However, it has impacted no one as much as it has his parents and brother. There will be countless days of tears as they face a future on earth without Baby G beside them. But there will also be moments of gratitude and appreciation for the time Baby G did spend with them, the sonogram pictures, listening to his heartbeat, the joy of adding to their family, and the love they felt for him.
Love is a gift that we sometimes forget to cherish and appreciate as much as we should. As a society, we gather at weddings and funerals and maybe an occasional holiday or two as a sign of caring, of love. However, we forget in the daily activities of life to show that same appreciation. The time with Baby G was very brief. But it was filled with love. Each moment he was here his mother, father and brother made sure that Baby G felt loved and cherished, that he knew his presence in their family was anticipated with great joy and hope.
When Baby G died, he was cocooned in his mother’s womb, their heartbeats only inches from each other. He did not die alone and isolated, without love or comfort. Just the opposite, he was as close to another human being as any of us will ever get.
I suggest to you that one way this tragedy may shape you is an understanding of God as love, of the meaning of life and death being love. Love never ends. Love is what keeps us going, day after day, tragedy after tragedy. Love is what will get you through this. Love never ends.
The absence of Baby G in our lives will be horribly hard. But if we see God as love, if the meaning of it all is love, then perhaps part of that love is also letting go. Most of the people we will have to let go of in our lives will not be so sudden and so tragic, but letting go is part of being a parent, it’s part of being a child. There is not a part of life that does not entail letting go of someone you love. The permanence of Baby G’s absence may make it feel different somehow. However, the universe is what, over 13 billion years old? The years we will be separated from him will be brief in comparison. So, this isn’t goodbye forever, this is until we meet again. Because Love NEVER ends. NEVER.
So, while we may never agree on who God is or what the meaning and purpose of life and death are, perhaps we can all agree that part of the answer is love.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Candle Lighting Memorial Service
Here is a memorial service for our hospice that I put together. The opening lines and the prayer have bits that are borrowed or rephrased from someone else. The reflection message is mine.
Introduction: Good afternoon. It is good to see you all here. This service is to remember and celebrate the lives of people that we at S_hospice have cared about. This includes patients we cared for as well as family and friends of our staff members. We appreciate you being here for this service. After the service, there will be a reception in a room across the lobby from us. We hope that you will stay and visit with us. For some of you, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you. After the service, we invite you to take one of the poinsettias decorating the front. This is our gift to you for the holiday season.
Introduction: Good afternoon. It is good to see you all here. This service is to remember and celebrate the lives of people that we at S_hospice have cared about. This includes patients we cared for as well as family and friends of our staff members. We appreciate you being here for this service. After the service, there will be a reception in a room across the lobby from us. We hope that you will stay and visit with us. For some of you, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you. After the service, we invite you to take one of the poinsettias decorating the front. This is our gift to you for the holiday season.
Opening: Please join me in the opening words printed inside your bulletin.
In the hallways of my memories and the canyons of my heart,
I will always remember you.
In the soft snow of winter and the glow of Christmas,
I will always remember you.
In the dawn of spring and the dawn of fall,
I will always remember you.
On birthdays, anniversaries, and ordinary days,
I will always remember you.
When I am lonely and tempted to be bitter,
I will always remember you.
When I am disheartened and confused,
I will always remember you.
When good news is too good to keep to myself,
I will always remember you.
In the candlelight of Christmas night,
I will always remember you.
Reading:
1 Corinthians 13
13If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast,* but do not have love, I gain nothing. 4 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 7It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. 9For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; 10but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. 13And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
Message:
In order to feel loss and grief, we must have first loved. One consequence from loving someone is missing them when they are gone. Sometimes that sorrow can be so heavy, that we forget the other consequences of love. We forget the ecstatic joy of feeling connected to someone so special. We forget the bond that forms from years and years of spending time together, wading through life’s moments together. We forget hard won trust and faith in each other.
Sometimes it isn’t that we forget these things, but that the loss of them is so powerful that the memory is too much to bear. It weighs heavy in our minds and makes getting through day to day activities hard. Life moves on without us in small or big ways and it seems the world keeps on wanting to move us and change when we just want to stay put.
Sometimes, though, other emotions get in the way. Guilt and anger being the most common, are really the opposite ends of the same emotion. From an early age I’ve been taught to take on the responsibility of things I have no control over and that of course brings about guilt. And sometimes guilt never really makes sense up here, but we can’t ignore it in here. The other end of the spectrum is anger, which usually entails blaming someone for something, whether it is his fault or not. Anger also doesn’t always make sense.
All of these things I’ve mentioned are part of the roller coaster of grief and we all ride it differently. Grief is something that everyone goes through, but is different for each person as well.
What I want to lift up today is the thought that our grief is part of a valuable gift, the gift of love. For anyone who’s loved someone, you know that love does not mean you never get angry and want to strangle that person. It doesn’t mean that you don’t get sad or disappointed or need some time away from them. Love includes all of this and it also includes all that Paul talks about in his letter to the Corinthians: kindness, patience, acceptance, endurance, and belief. And these are the things we hold valuable in our love, even after death.
As we enter the holiday season, the grief that comes with love will be strong at times, but the opportunity to remember the precious parts, the kindness, patience, acceptance, endurance and belief will also be there. I encourage you to embrace those memories. But if it’s not time yet, that’s okay. January is just around the corner and all the music and decorations that trigger grief will be gone. But your love will not. Because love endures all things. Love never ends.
Candlelighting:
With all the darkness in our lives, love is the flame that lights the way. Light is a symbol of life and love in many religions throughout the world and time. Today we light a candle in memory of the flame that each of these people represented in our lives. Many people were not able to attend today but asked that we light a candle for their loved one. Two of our staff will be saying the names. When your loved one’s name is said, please have one person from your family come up to light the candle. Take the candle lighter from the staff person and light the candle. Then, say one word or phrase that summarizes who that person is to you or the memory you have of them. If you cannot think of a word or phrase to say, that’s okay. Hand back the candle lighter and sit down. Staff members will light the candles for those absent.
Moment of Silence
Prayer:
God, you gave us the ability to love, to remember, to honor and to miss those in our lives. Open our hearts and eyes to see more clearly, to remember more honestly, and to love in new ways. Give us the ability to celebrate the lives we miss while we also voice our grief and sadness. Give us strength to trust You when we cannot understand. Strengthen our belief in the power of your love and the life ever after. Amen.
Blessing:
May the love you feel for those gone light your way and may the love you feel for those still here give you joy, and may the love of those you have yet to meet give you hope. Go in peace.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Kittens are bundles of love
This weekend we took our kitten to my mother-in-law's in the Ozarks to live. We couldn't keep her due to land lord saying no and, well, we live in a super small house and already have a 52 pound dog.
This cat was a life saver for me. When I rescued her from the middle of the highway, life was pretty challenging. I was trying desparately hard to let go of the anxiety and grief I was feeling over not being able to be pregnant yet. There are so many obstacles in my way that I wonder if it will ever happen.
And enters a little kitten less than 3 pounds heavy, all injured and needy, purring love all over my bleeding heart. For the past 6 weeks, she has provided a major distraction and focus for my care and love. Life somehow is easier when there's a little kitten to love, isn't it?
She's almost twice the weight and much larger than she was when I found her. Her wounds of the body and heart are healed. She jumps and plays and gets into trouble so much that I wonder if she thinks her name actually means NO.
The day we left her at the house on the farm, I disappeared from the farm chores and played cuddled with her for a long time. She was so sweet and concerned about my tears and found blowing my nose to be absolutely fascinating.
I hadn't cried about not being able to be pregnant since I found her. What a blessing. Of course, I haven't had any doctor appointments to fret over this last month either.
I'm so grateful for the respite from my grief. It was still there, in the background. I still got sad and frustrated. But I had a kitten to purr on my chest at night while I read and a kitten chasing her tail in my kitchen and a kitten demanding attention by walking on the keyboard. It was nice.
I have all kinds of amazing support in my life from friends and family to my husband and dog. But for a while I could give and receive just a smattering of the mother-child love with my kitty. And, I get to see her in 2 weeks! What a blessing.
I'm not sure what the next months bring and what the next hurtles will be, but I'm just not going to think about it for a while.
This cat was a life saver for me. When I rescued her from the middle of the highway, life was pretty challenging. I was trying desparately hard to let go of the anxiety and grief I was feeling over not being able to be pregnant yet. There are so many obstacles in my way that I wonder if it will ever happen.
And enters a little kitten less than 3 pounds heavy, all injured and needy, purring love all over my bleeding heart. For the past 6 weeks, she has provided a major distraction and focus for my care and love. Life somehow is easier when there's a little kitten to love, isn't it?
She's almost twice the weight and much larger than she was when I found her. Her wounds of the body and heart are healed. She jumps and plays and gets into trouble so much that I wonder if she thinks her name actually means NO.
The day we left her at the house on the farm, I disappeared from the farm chores and played cuddled with her for a long time. She was so sweet and concerned about my tears and found blowing my nose to be absolutely fascinating.
I hadn't cried about not being able to be pregnant since I found her. What a blessing. Of course, I haven't had any doctor appointments to fret over this last month either.
I'm so grateful for the respite from my grief. It was still there, in the background. I still got sad and frustrated. But I had a kitten to purr on my chest at night while I read and a kitten chasing her tail in my kitchen and a kitten demanding attention by walking on the keyboard. It was nice.
I have all kinds of amazing support in my life from friends and family to my husband and dog. But for a while I could give and receive just a smattering of the mother-child love with my kitty. And, I get to see her in 2 weeks! What a blessing.
I'm not sure what the next months bring and what the next hurtles will be, but I'm just not going to think about it for a while.
Friday, October 23, 2009
350 for climate change
I'm a little slow in my social justice responsibilities, but I just learned about 350.org from Democracy Now and am very motivated to add my voice with others. Attempting to change the course of climate degradation is not about choosing political sides, but about survival and quality of life.
I'm attending a rally at JCCC in Overland Park. What are you doing? Use this map to find events in your area, or go to 350.org to find out more about this worldwide and yet somehow grassroots campaign for change in climate policies.
View Actions at 350.org
I'm attending a rally at JCCC in Overland Park. What are you doing? Use this map to find events in your area, or go to 350.org to find out more about this worldwide and yet somehow grassroots campaign for change in climate policies.
View Actions at 350.org
Friday, September 25, 2009
When female clergy get harassed, why is it not called discrimination?
Yesterday I attended a Hospice Foundation of America webinar on hospice/end of life care and diversity which another hospice hosted. It had some really great panelists who explored several areas where hospice is limited in terms of cultural diversity including the cultural barriers blocking access to Asian, Latino, and African Americans in particular. They also discussed the problem of patients and families being intolerant or even openly hostile towards other races, religions, etc. How does the hospice protect and respect their workers while also providing care to such patients... particularly for small hospices with limited staff.
The example was given of white supremicists with offensive material around the house, constantly spouting bigotry and refusing care from non-caucasians.... or Caucasians and African Americans refusing help from people of Latino or Middle Eastern origin. The list of intolerance goes on including sexual orientation and gender.
What is interesting, however, is that the intolerance that chaplains face was never brought up. Mainly, I think, because our services are optional and can be turned down for no stated reason. What I realized yesterday, however, is that there are people I see that I side-step the truth about my ordination to on a regular basis. There are people who interrogate me, my credentials, whether I'm a real preacher or not, who decline prayer or any talk about God, who tell me exactly what's wrong with female preachers, my home denomination, and lecture me on their version of "The True Faith", who seek me out as a last resort for funerals because they have no church ties but don't really care for the female preacher, who approach me with suspicion, distaste, and sometimes open hostility. But it's okay, because it's their right to believe whatever they want in terms of religion. It's okay for them to demean me, act as if my degrees and training mean nothing because I don't have a penis. It's okay to be turned down, degraded, and judged because it's part of their faith system. Funny, I remember slavery being a part of people's belief system too.
I'm not complaining just to be whine-y. I'm describing the undercurrent of negativity I encounter with my job. Discrimination by gender occurs in other fields in subversive ways, of course, but not in the openly hostile way that is allowed in ministry and religion. It's something I accepted when I chose ministry, especially hospice where people are from older generations and ideas. And I am really good at making friends with people who secretly believe I'm going to hell. I understand their faith system, having lived it as a child. I see the good in people, the common plight of loneliness and isolation, fear of the unknown, and I work with wherever they are. In fact, I have been trained first in seminary and then in CPE residency to set aside my own identity and make their life the primary concern when I'm with them. And I learn to love them (most of them, any way) and accept them for who and where they are. I don't expect or even want the same in return. Sure, the handful of people who are genuinely grateful feed my spirit. But it's not affection I really crave, it's respect.
I have dozens of stories where sometimes intentionally (and sometimes just because I'm genuine) I change the mind or heart of someone who believes my work is tainted by my vagina. And because I understand on a very personal level what most of their beliefs are, I'm pretty darn good at it... while being true to who I am, of course. One that stands out is a close family friend of a patient for whom I did a funeral. This man grilled me for 10 minutes before the funeral about my church background, training, etc. in an openly hostile and suspicious way... emphasizing his disbelief a "true church" would let a woman at the pulpit, let alone be ordained. After the service and my sermon, he came up to me and shook my hand and said "Boy, I'd love to have you preach at my church. blah blah blah..." While I didn't lie or say things I didn't believe in my sermon, I did talk in a language he understood one way and I know to be true in many different ways... in many different faiths, not just his own. It was gratifying on a certain level and completely offensive on the other (the list of offensive parts are WAY longer than the gratifying part).
Honestly, that stuff doesn't get me down as much as it makes me want to fight back even more. For instance, I keep thinking how good it would have felt to say to that man, in very direct terms, what I thought of his interpretation of scripture and christianity. There are days where I'm just plain tired of it all. And I'm reminded of the countless stories of women entering fields dominated by men and the repercussions of it. I'm also reminded of the constant barrage of hostility (subversive and overt) that people of any marginalized group experiences. For those attacking or making offhanded comments, it's usually not personal. But for those being attacked, it's personal down to their very identity as a human being.
As I was contemplating all this last night, I realized that one of the aspects of the hospital setting (vs. hospice) that I enjoy is that there is a greater variety of generations and belief systems. I was more likely to find people that are willing to pray with me. I had profound conversations with people who were everything from atheist to orthodox jew. I also had compatriots who journeyed with me and I could share my bad experiences with them and let it all go. Non-clergy often don't understand the same way clergy and esp. chaplains do.
Compared to who I was in seminary, I feel like a completely different person. I know who I am and I'm not ashamed or feel defensive. I know I have nothing to prove and so many things to offer and give to these patients and families who still receive me. That doesn't make any of the negative things go away, however. And it's something I choose to live with, for better or worse.
The example was given of white supremicists with offensive material around the house, constantly spouting bigotry and refusing care from non-caucasians.... or Caucasians and African Americans refusing help from people of Latino or Middle Eastern origin. The list of intolerance goes on including sexual orientation and gender.
What is interesting, however, is that the intolerance that chaplains face was never brought up. Mainly, I think, because our services are optional and can be turned down for no stated reason. What I realized yesterday, however, is that there are people I see that I side-step the truth about my ordination to on a regular basis. There are people who interrogate me, my credentials, whether I'm a real preacher or not, who decline prayer or any talk about God, who tell me exactly what's wrong with female preachers, my home denomination, and lecture me on their version of "The True Faith", who seek me out as a last resort for funerals because they have no church ties but don't really care for the female preacher, who approach me with suspicion, distaste, and sometimes open hostility. But it's okay, because it's their right to believe whatever they want in terms of religion. It's okay for them to demean me, act as if my degrees and training mean nothing because I don't have a penis. It's okay to be turned down, degraded, and judged because it's part of their faith system. Funny, I remember slavery being a part of people's belief system too.
I'm not complaining just to be whine-y. I'm describing the undercurrent of negativity I encounter with my job. Discrimination by gender occurs in other fields in subversive ways, of course, but not in the openly hostile way that is allowed in ministry and religion. It's something I accepted when I chose ministry, especially hospice where people are from older generations and ideas. And I am really good at making friends with people who secretly believe I'm going to hell. I understand their faith system, having lived it as a child. I see the good in people, the common plight of loneliness and isolation, fear of the unknown, and I work with wherever they are. In fact, I have been trained first in seminary and then in CPE residency to set aside my own identity and make their life the primary concern when I'm with them. And I learn to love them (most of them, any way) and accept them for who and where they are. I don't expect or even want the same in return. Sure, the handful of people who are genuinely grateful feed my spirit. But it's not affection I really crave, it's respect.
I have dozens of stories where sometimes intentionally (and sometimes just because I'm genuine) I change the mind or heart of someone who believes my work is tainted by my vagina. And because I understand on a very personal level what most of their beliefs are, I'm pretty darn good at it... while being true to who I am, of course. One that stands out is a close family friend of a patient for whom I did a funeral. This man grilled me for 10 minutes before the funeral about my church background, training, etc. in an openly hostile and suspicious way... emphasizing his disbelief a "true church" would let a woman at the pulpit, let alone be ordained. After the service and my sermon, he came up to me and shook my hand and said "Boy, I'd love to have you preach at my church. blah blah blah..." While I didn't lie or say things I didn't believe in my sermon, I did talk in a language he understood one way and I know to be true in many different ways... in many different faiths, not just his own. It was gratifying on a certain level and completely offensive on the other (the list of offensive parts are WAY longer than the gratifying part).
Honestly, that stuff doesn't get me down as much as it makes me want to fight back even more. For instance, I keep thinking how good it would have felt to say to that man, in very direct terms, what I thought of his interpretation of scripture and christianity. There are days where I'm just plain tired of it all. And I'm reminded of the countless stories of women entering fields dominated by men and the repercussions of it. I'm also reminded of the constant barrage of hostility (subversive and overt) that people of any marginalized group experiences. For those attacking or making offhanded comments, it's usually not personal. But for those being attacked, it's personal down to their very identity as a human being.
As I was contemplating all this last night, I realized that one of the aspects of the hospital setting (vs. hospice) that I enjoy is that there is a greater variety of generations and belief systems. I was more likely to find people that are willing to pray with me. I had profound conversations with people who were everything from atheist to orthodox jew. I also had compatriots who journeyed with me and I could share my bad experiences with them and let it all go. Non-clergy often don't understand the same way clergy and esp. chaplains do.
Compared to who I was in seminary, I feel like a completely different person. I know who I am and I'm not ashamed or feel defensive. I know I have nothing to prove and so many things to offer and give to these patients and families who still receive me. That doesn't make any of the negative things go away, however. And it's something I choose to live with, for better or worse.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Obesity and Being Fat
One of my dear friends from seminary has been a fat acceptance advocate for quite a while. She shared this article with me. It really shows the difference between being a fat hater and wanting to be healthy. Two different things I promise. Read "
America’s War on the Overweight " and let me know what you think.
In particularly I appreciated the explanations of why there's so much animosity.
America’s War on the Overweight " and let me know what you think.
In particularly I appreciated the explanations of why there's so much animosity.
So why don't we have more compassion for people struggling to lose the first 50,
60, or 100? Some of it has to do with the psychological phenomenon known as the
fundamental attribution error, a basic belief that whatever problems befall us
personally are the result of difficult circumstances, while the same problems in
other people are the result of their bad choices. Miss a goal at work? It's
because the vendor was unreliable, and because your manager isn't giving you
enough support, and because the power outage last week cut into premium sales
time. That jerk next to you? He blew his quota because he's a bad planner, and
because he spent too much time taking personal calls.
I've been struggling with this concept for a few months, because I have found out there are medical reasons why the last 5 years I've been gaining weight rapidly and unable to lose more than just a few pounds. I am hypothyroid and have insulin resistance... which means that without treatment, I'm not burning carbs when I eat them but storing them and I'm also unable to burn stored fat when I exercise or reduce calories. Maintaining my weight +/- 10# was all I was able to do even with restricted diets.
So now I REALLY DO have reasons (beyond the typical too much caloric intake problem) why this has happened to me. But what I think (instead of this "fundamental attribution error" and feeling like an exception to the rule) is that there are more people out there who have hidden thyroid problems (esp. women) and hidden insulin problems.
The authors go on to talk about the catch 22 of weight ridicule... mock us too much and we don't care anymore about healthy eating and exercise. who cares if i'll be chastised and condescendingly mocked even if i try. While I have had periods where I felt it just didn't matter if I tried(because I will always be fat in other people's eyes) 95% of my life that has NOT been the case.
I also know that there are plenty of hypothyroid people who never will get as large as I am now. Not sure about insulin resistance... that disorder has this chicken/egg thing going for it. The more one gains weight, the more insulin resistant one gets. Is it because of the fat or is the fat just the easiest sign of increasing resistance to burning carbs correctly? I tend to think the latter, but don't let most doctors hear that.
What my doctor (who's helping me with the thyroid and insulin stuff) has told me is basically summed up as "I'm up shit creek without a paddle" when it comes to maintaing a healthy weight. If you think about it, if my hypothyroidism never showed up in the tests and no one ever checked my insulin levels with my glucose, I'd continue down this road until I got diabetes, my heart and arterial problems increased, my female problems got worse and probably leading to infertility and I'd just keep getting fatter which would compromise my joints even more. What a lovely thought.
If I had not pestered doctors for 2 years about this, none of my problems would have been discovered. So, while I am ALL about fat acceptance for psychological and spiritual reasons... I hope that larger people, who are twice the weight of their high school weight like me, never give up on being healthy.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Memory books and gender roles
The past month or so I've been working on the curriculum for the 6 session grief group I'm facilitating starting in Sept. I have to say that I missed this part of ministry... the education and facilitation of discussion. I've grown lazy the past 6 months or so when it comes to keeping up with my profession and the ideas and theories out there. So, dredging up the content from seminary and CPE and putting my own twist to it has been fun.
I'm putting in several parts to it, education, sharing/discussion, and activities. I'm not the most artistic person in the world, but I enjoy artsy-craftsy things and trying to find simple low-budget things to do with them.
Not surprisingly I've found most of my ideas in kids bereavement group suggestions. We don't expect kids to be as cerebrally focused as adults. I'm not going to have them create masks of their feelings or sing songs about being sad. However, I did like the idea of including the choice of drawing activities in the assignments at home.
I'm also giving them a simple folder/journal and suggesting activities they can do on their own. I've found some really neat ideas. One of them is based on creating a memory book about the deceased. I've read ideas before about encouraging people to take up as a project interviewing people for stories about the loved one. But this one suggested creating a cook book of favorite food memories, stories intermingled with recipes. I love it!
This springboarded (is that really a verb?) my brain into thinking of other variations... find the person's favorite hobby and focus the memory book around that... say chess or bridge or quilting or puzzles or gardening. So many ways one could spin off from that.
I'm also contemplating working up one of my group study plans for the corporate office. Some of the stuff (ok, most of it) they put out for us to use is so outdated and based on stereotypes that contemporary pyscho-social theory don't take as seriously anymore. It makes me gag... I'm mean, seriously. One of them is on how men and women grieve differently. Yes, a valid conversation.
However, the language was very definitive and authoritative on stereotypical gender roles... as if all men are introverts about ready to burst from bottled up emotions and all women are extraverts who have to gush their emotions all over everyone else in order to function in emotionally stressful situations. PUH-LEEZ. Let's take into account some contemporary thoughts on gender roles and emotional development/personality.
I do have to remember that my hospice doesn't require an MDiv or any CPE to be a chaplain and bereavement coordinator. And so much of the bible school and church school training would reinforce viewpoints I disagree with.
With that in mind, as I was planning a grief group session on why/how people grieve differently, I'm not only covering basic introvert/extravert stuff, etc. I'm using Rev. Gary Chapman's Love Languages... because I know not everyone in the world is jonzing to use psycho-social tools to understand his/her journey. Not everyone has to think like me... I SWEAR!
I'm putting in several parts to it, education, sharing/discussion, and activities. I'm not the most artistic person in the world, but I enjoy artsy-craftsy things and trying to find simple low-budget things to do with them.
Not surprisingly I've found most of my ideas in kids bereavement group suggestions. We don't expect kids to be as cerebrally focused as adults. I'm not going to have them create masks of their feelings or sing songs about being sad. However, I did like the idea of including the choice of drawing activities in the assignments at home.
I'm also giving them a simple folder/journal and suggesting activities they can do on their own. I've found some really neat ideas. One of them is based on creating a memory book about the deceased. I've read ideas before about encouraging people to take up as a project interviewing people for stories about the loved one. But this one suggested creating a cook book of favorite food memories, stories intermingled with recipes. I love it!
This springboarded (is that really a verb?) my brain into thinking of other variations... find the person's favorite hobby and focus the memory book around that... say chess or bridge or quilting or puzzles or gardening. So many ways one could spin off from that.
I'm also contemplating working up one of my group study plans for the corporate office. Some of the stuff (ok, most of it) they put out for us to use is so outdated and based on stereotypes that contemporary pyscho-social theory don't take as seriously anymore. It makes me gag... I'm mean, seriously. One of them is on how men and women grieve differently. Yes, a valid conversation.
However, the language was very definitive and authoritative on stereotypical gender roles... as if all men are introverts about ready to burst from bottled up emotions and all women are extraverts who have to gush their emotions all over everyone else in order to function in emotionally stressful situations. PUH-LEEZ. Let's take into account some contemporary thoughts on gender roles and emotional development/personality.
I do have to remember that my hospice doesn't require an MDiv or any CPE to be a chaplain and bereavement coordinator. And so much of the bible school and church school training would reinforce viewpoints I disagree with.
With that in mind, as I was planning a grief group session on why/how people grieve differently, I'm not only covering basic introvert/extravert stuff, etc. I'm using Rev. Gary Chapman's Love Languages... because I know not everyone in the world is jonzing to use psycho-social tools to understand his/her journey. Not everyone has to think like me... I SWEAR!
Monday, August 24, 2009
A Season for Receiving... A Funeral Sermon
(Names are changed for privacy. This is probably the most traditional language I ever use pertaining to salvation... it was per the family's request. I hope that I made it my own and not untrue to my theology.)
Ecclesiastes 3-A Time for Everything
1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: 2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, 6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. 14 I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him. 15 Whatever is has already been,and what will be has been before; and God will call the past to account.
John 14 1"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God[a]; trust also in me. 2In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. 4You know the way to the place where I am going." 5Thomas said to him, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" 6Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me”
I met Daisy at the beginning of this year. She’d been living at the nursing home for a while already and everyone there loved her. And I could see why. She always had a huge smile for anyone who passed by or helped her with things. I noticed when I sat with her in the dining room, people would stop by or talk to her just to see her smile. She wasn’t able to tell me many stories, though I learned some things through her daughter Josie. So, mostly, I’d sit with her and hold her hand, asking occasional questions or complimenting her on her outfit.
When I sat with her, I contemplated what it must be like to be where she was right at that moment, after 98 years of life. She had worked hard all her life, the first half devoted to the work of keeping a house full of kids and husband clothed, fed, and happy. And now she lived with people who are responsible for keeping her clean, clothed and fed.
It seems her life had many seasons, just as every person’s does. What is the purpose or meaning to these seasons of life and what can we learn from them? Does God have something we are supposed to learn or experience from each of these seasons? I believe God does, but I’m not so sure we always see it.
Many of us will live full lives that, like Daisy, start with being cared for by others and end being cared for by others. In between those times, most of our lives will be focused on caring for others, through work and family. Society teaches us that the most important accomplishments we do will be when we are working and taking care of family… but that makes old age seem like a waste of time and a hardship to endure. What God wants us to remember through this passage in Ecclesiastes is that the being cared for and caring for others are both important. We like to think about the happy times when all decisions are made by us and life goes according to plan. But life doesn’t always go according to plan and I don’t always get to choose how my life goes.
I don’t know about you, but I have an independent streak a mile long. I have been trained since child birth to work towards getting things done and being generous to others in need. But when I’m down and out, it’s hard for me to receive with grace and gratitude the generousness of others. I feel weak, useless and without power. But in those times life seems to have no meaning, when bad things happen to good people, God knows the meaning and purpose of it all. God understands our suffering and our struggle and will help us through it.
The times most people become closer to God is during times of helplessness. When there is no one else to turn to, God is there. And when we live our lives to the fullest, we are living in Christ. So, like Christ, we will be raised and taken care of as a child. As adults, we will care for others, as Jesus showed us in his ministry. And while Jesus never got to be old, he did allow for others to give generously to him, just as Doris had and others will. The woman anointing his feet with oil, Mary and Martha hosting him in their house and feeding him. To receive the gifts of others when we have nothing is a very sacred act that God wants us to do. It is hard, humbling, and not without discomfort. But to do so with a generous and gracious heart is saintly.
So, while I did not get to learn from Daisy’s wisdom on flowers or get to eat her fresh baked bread, I did learn a great deal from her. She received the help and care of the staff at the nursing home with a bright smile and cheerful heart. I watched others brush her hair and wipe her mouth between meals. I pushed her wheelchair on walks and back to her room. Even when breathing was hard work and you could tell she was hurting, she would smile at me and say thank you.
In John 14, through Jesus, God tells us that there is a place waiting for us after this life, if only we were to rely upon the grace of Christ. Once again, even upon death, we must rely upon another to get us where we need to be. To trust so completely on another is hard work and God knows it. In today’s world we are taught to not trust anything we can’t see with our own eyes. But the Holy Spirit can’t be seen and the work of God is only apparent to those who believe. I invite you to place your trust in Jesus. I invite you to put yourself in the care of God and see where your life and your death will take you.
I’m comforted to know that Daisy is a Christian. Through her acts of receiving graciously I experienced the presence of God in her life. And through her baptism, she will continue to be in the presence of our Lord and Savior. Amen.
Ecclesiastes 3-A Time for Everything
1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: 2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, 6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. 14 I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him. 15 Whatever is has already been,and what will be has been before; and God will call the past to account.
John 14 1"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God[a]; trust also in me. 2In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. 4You know the way to the place where I am going." 5Thomas said to him, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" 6Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me”
I met Daisy at the beginning of this year. She’d been living at the nursing home for a while already and everyone there loved her. And I could see why. She always had a huge smile for anyone who passed by or helped her with things. I noticed when I sat with her in the dining room, people would stop by or talk to her just to see her smile. She wasn’t able to tell me many stories, though I learned some things through her daughter Josie. So, mostly, I’d sit with her and hold her hand, asking occasional questions or complimenting her on her outfit.
When I sat with her, I contemplated what it must be like to be where she was right at that moment, after 98 years of life. She had worked hard all her life, the first half devoted to the work of keeping a house full of kids and husband clothed, fed, and happy. And now she lived with people who are responsible for keeping her clean, clothed and fed.
It seems her life had many seasons, just as every person’s does. What is the purpose or meaning to these seasons of life and what can we learn from them? Does God have something we are supposed to learn or experience from each of these seasons? I believe God does, but I’m not so sure we always see it.
Many of us will live full lives that, like Daisy, start with being cared for by others and end being cared for by others. In between those times, most of our lives will be focused on caring for others, through work and family. Society teaches us that the most important accomplishments we do will be when we are working and taking care of family… but that makes old age seem like a waste of time and a hardship to endure. What God wants us to remember through this passage in Ecclesiastes is that the being cared for and caring for others are both important. We like to think about the happy times when all decisions are made by us and life goes according to plan. But life doesn’t always go according to plan and I don’t always get to choose how my life goes.
I don’t know about you, but I have an independent streak a mile long. I have been trained since child birth to work towards getting things done and being generous to others in need. But when I’m down and out, it’s hard for me to receive with grace and gratitude the generousness of others. I feel weak, useless and without power. But in those times life seems to have no meaning, when bad things happen to good people, God knows the meaning and purpose of it all. God understands our suffering and our struggle and will help us through it.
The times most people become closer to God is during times of helplessness. When there is no one else to turn to, God is there. And when we live our lives to the fullest, we are living in Christ. So, like Christ, we will be raised and taken care of as a child. As adults, we will care for others, as Jesus showed us in his ministry. And while Jesus never got to be old, he did allow for others to give generously to him, just as Doris had and others will. The woman anointing his feet with oil, Mary and Martha hosting him in their house and feeding him. To receive the gifts of others when we have nothing is a very sacred act that God wants us to do. It is hard, humbling, and not without discomfort. But to do so with a generous and gracious heart is saintly.
So, while I did not get to learn from Daisy’s wisdom on flowers or get to eat her fresh baked bread, I did learn a great deal from her. She received the help and care of the staff at the nursing home with a bright smile and cheerful heart. I watched others brush her hair and wipe her mouth between meals. I pushed her wheelchair on walks and back to her room. Even when breathing was hard work and you could tell she was hurting, she would smile at me and say thank you.
In John 14, through Jesus, God tells us that there is a place waiting for us after this life, if only we were to rely upon the grace of Christ. Once again, even upon death, we must rely upon another to get us where we need to be. To trust so completely on another is hard work and God knows it. In today’s world we are taught to not trust anything we can’t see with our own eyes. But the Holy Spirit can’t be seen and the work of God is only apparent to those who believe. I invite you to place your trust in Jesus. I invite you to put yourself in the care of God and see where your life and your death will take you.
I’m comforted to know that Daisy is a Christian. Through her acts of receiving graciously I experienced the presence of God in her life. And through her baptism, she will continue to be in the presence of our Lord and Savior. Amen.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Prayer for times of Physical Suffering
This is a prayer I use a lot with my patients. They seem to find comfort from it.
Prayer for times of Physical Suffering
( I think i got out of Episcopal or Methodist Prayer book)
Lord Jesus Christ, we come to you sharing
the suffering that you endured.
Grant us patience during this time,
that as we live with pain,
disappointment and frustration,
we may realize that suffering is a part of life,
a part of life that you know intimately.
Touch me in my time of trial,
hold me tenderly in your loving arms,
and let me know you care.
Renew us into our spirits,
even when our bodies are not
being renewed,
that we might be ever prepared to dwell
in your eternal home,
through our faith in you, Lord Jesus,
who died and are alive for evermore. Amen.
Prayer for times of Physical Suffering
( I think i got out of Episcopal or Methodist Prayer book)
Lord Jesus Christ, we come to you sharing
the suffering that you endured.
Grant us patience during this time,
that as we live with pain,
disappointment and frustration,
we may realize that suffering is a part of life,
a part of life that you know intimately.
Touch me in my time of trial,
hold me tenderly in your loving arms,
and let me know you care.
Renew us into our spirits,
even when our bodies are not
being renewed,
that we might be ever prepared to dwell
in your eternal home,
through our faith in you, Lord Jesus,
who died and are alive for evermore. Amen.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Good grief... i'm surrounded
Just recently my grandma doyle passed away after months on hospice. I could tell that my family didn't understand my expression of grief... at least not until I presided at the funeral. But they haven't sat with dozens of people as they go through almost identical experiences of dying, of grieving. The boundary marked"Grandma" in my grief is way more fuzzy than theirs. My job and calling prevent me from having too much of a respite from grief. It's both a blessing and a burden. It's a blessing because my sadness over the loss of grandma's physical presence didn't hit me like a Mac truck. I am constantly learning more and more about the process of loss and grief. And that helps me not just cope, but thrive. It's a burden because I can never get away from it. Grief surrounds me everywhere I go. I am aware of my own mortality 24/7 as well as the mortality of everyone I care for all the time.
Don't misunderstand me. I am not a walking fountain of despair or a case for the hypochondriac specialist. Sure, I have my moments of sadness and anxiety... but mortality awareness opens my life up more than any mystical retreat ever did. The beauty and joy of life is more real, more tangible. But it also pushes me to pursue my goals and desires even when it's not time yet.
The patience I've learned through my training and discipline is balanced by the urge to get to another place, for this moment to be past, not present... for the future to rewind to be here and now. The serenity in realizing I have lived my life to the fullest and that each moment is precious gets interrupted by the static of impatient desires.
I want to smell my future baby's head and see the gray in Aaron's beard migrate to his hair. I want to hear the laughter at future family gatherings and be able to hold my parents' hands as they pass on. There is so much in the future to ancitpate and look forward to. But when I'm perpetually surrounded by grief, I am reminded again and again that the future is only in my imagination. We do not always get to celebrate and experience all the things we wish for or even expect to happen. In fact, it is guaranteed that our mortal road will one day be blocked and the road we imagined to travel will not be there. It is rare and perhaps even an illusion that we will one day sit in a rocking chair, creaking in our old bones, looking back on the road behind us and know we are done and just pass away. I'm not sure about everyone else, but that is how I want to die. But that is also a rare treat for the mortal life.
For many of us, dying will be a long and drawn out process. One that isn't without meaning or joy, but one that anyone I've ever met would prefer to avoid. For instance, my grandma has not been able to be present for many of the important events of my adult life. The absence of her presence while she suffered from Alzheimers and cancer was hard on her and hard on me too. She was here in flesh and blood yet could not attend my graduation, my wedding or my ordination because of her illness. And looking back, I mourn the missed opportunities of being with her while she was alive. I do not mourn her death or her absence now, because like the silly fool I am, I believe that she is no longer suffering. For me, death is not the end of everything, just the end of what is now.
So, my awareness of grief has me going about, oscillating between a strange sense of contentment and clarity and a strong urge to push forward as fast as I can before the mortal road ends for me or Aaron. What a strange and wonderful ride this life is.
Don't misunderstand me. I am not a walking fountain of despair or a case for the hypochondriac specialist. Sure, I have my moments of sadness and anxiety... but mortality awareness opens my life up more than any mystical retreat ever did. The beauty and joy of life is more real, more tangible. But it also pushes me to pursue my goals and desires even when it's not time yet.
The patience I've learned through my training and discipline is balanced by the urge to get to another place, for this moment to be past, not present... for the future to rewind to be here and now. The serenity in realizing I have lived my life to the fullest and that each moment is precious gets interrupted by the static of impatient desires.
I want to smell my future baby's head and see the gray in Aaron's beard migrate to his hair. I want to hear the laughter at future family gatherings and be able to hold my parents' hands as they pass on. There is so much in the future to ancitpate and look forward to. But when I'm perpetually surrounded by grief, I am reminded again and again that the future is only in my imagination. We do not always get to celebrate and experience all the things we wish for or even expect to happen. In fact, it is guaranteed that our mortal road will one day be blocked and the road we imagined to travel will not be there. It is rare and perhaps even an illusion that we will one day sit in a rocking chair, creaking in our old bones, looking back on the road behind us and know we are done and just pass away. I'm not sure about everyone else, but that is how I want to die. But that is also a rare treat for the mortal life.
For many of us, dying will be a long and drawn out process. One that isn't without meaning or joy, but one that anyone I've ever met would prefer to avoid. For instance, my grandma has not been able to be present for many of the important events of my adult life. The absence of her presence while she suffered from Alzheimers and cancer was hard on her and hard on me too. She was here in flesh and blood yet could not attend my graduation, my wedding or my ordination because of her illness. And looking back, I mourn the missed opportunities of being with her while she was alive. I do not mourn her death or her absence now, because like the silly fool I am, I believe that she is no longer suffering. For me, death is not the end of everything, just the end of what is now.
So, my awareness of grief has me going about, oscillating between a strange sense of contentment and clarity and a strong urge to push forward as fast as I can before the mortal road ends for me or Aaron. What a strange and wonderful ride this life is.
Monday, June 01, 2009
The Church's Responsibility: What we can learn from Hagar's Story
Genesis 16. Delivered at Englewood Baptist Church on May 31, 2009
When Micah invited me to preach and told me about the Women of the Bible series, I got very excited. Micah and his family speak fondly of you all, well, Elizabeth does and I’m sure if Annelise could talk, she would as well. So, I’m grateful for a chance to meet you, of course. However, not often does a pastor tell me… pick any female character of the bible and preach on her. That is an extra special treat.
I chose Hagar because I have studied her more than any other woman in the Hebrew Scriptures. From class work to a very long thesis paper I wrote, I became fascinated with what her story could tell us as contemporary people of faith. Who is she to us?
Many scholars and Sunday School lessons talk about the story of Sarah and Hagar or the story of Isaac and Ishmael. I can understand how that happens. Hagar is just the vessel of the first born son of Abraham… and it is Abraham who is the chosen one of God, not Hagar. Or so we all are told.
But try to forget everything you remember about the story and focus just on Hagar. What do you see? The biggest thing I see in Genesis 16 is that God speaks to Hagar, God names her son and Hagar names God. Does this chapter have God speaking to Sarah or even to Abraham? No. God comes to Hagar. God names Ishmael, meaning “God hears”. And Hagar, a young foreign non-Hebrew slave woman speaks to God and names God El-Roi, meaning “God sees”. She is not the supporting role in this story. Hagar is the main character.
The next thing I see is a tragic story that is hard to think about. Hagar is forced to have sex with her 86 year old slave owner and beaten by the slave owner’s wife because she became pregnant, at the wife’s insistence. I can understand why Hagar ran away. But why does God tell her to return to her oppressors and abusers? This is a hard one for me to think about because I want God to be the liberator of all people and a God of love and justice. But Hagar’s situation is complicated and God can see a bigger picture.
So, how can we understand Hagar in a context that makes more sense? What faces of women who live today might reflect Hagar’s story for us? I was raised in a very conservative church that oppressed women to the extreme and if Hagar was born in this century, I can see her as a woman in that community.
Women are not allowed any power in the church, let alone to be ministers. Well, I take that back, they can organize the nursery and clean the church, except the altar area, where the male deacons can enter. They must submit all decisions about their life to their fathers until they marry, when the husband is the lord and ruler of her. Personally, that sounds like a gift-wrapped made pretty form of slavery. Women are strongly discouraged to divorce and strongly encouraged to put up with emotional, verbal and even physical abuse to keep a marriage together. And the justification of this slavery is that women are the source of all evil in the world and deserve the punishment of childbirth. Their wickedness will distort their thinking, so men must guide and discipline them. Any other form of thought, belief or culture will not be tolerated, because of its corruptive influence.
As you can see, I am no longer with that church. I have moved on and found another church community. But for Hagar, there was no other community. And I have seen women in the church I grew up in feel that way too. There is nowhere else to go. Women will put up with a lot in order to be with their kids, to provide them with food, security and shelter. I also don’t want you to think that life in my childhood church was horrific all the time. I enjoyed playing and learning with other kids. I laughed and was loved by many. And I know many women who are loved and cared for within that church community, despite their doctrine about women. For Hagar, when God tells her to return to her slavery, perhaps God knows that there is no place else for her and her baby right then. Perhaps God knows there are others in that community who will care and nurture her and her baby, despite her status as a slave woman.
Hagar is reflected in our own lives as well. There are people in our everyday lives that we must submit to, just as God tells Hagar to submit to Sarah. And it isn’t always comfortable or pleasant. There are our bosses and supervisors, our teachers and law enforcement officers, and sometimes it really, really hurts to be under their direction. Being disciplined, like Hagar, for something that is not your fault or that they told you to do in the first place happens often in today’s world. People with power over us will tend to be tempted to abuse it. That does not make it right. And in no way am I suggesting that any person should ever have to put up with sexual advances or being beaten. But there are times that waiting for a better moment will increase your chance of improving your situation.
Those who counsel battered women know this as well. If a woman leaves with no plan, the likelihood that she will be caught, beaten and/or killed is high. It makes sense if you think about it. Hagar ran with no plan or resources for her or her baby. If she went back and waited, she still would have no choice about sexual advances or beatings, but she would have a choice on how she saw herself. And now, she can return to her community and say to herself, “I am carrying a baby named by God and God spoke to me, a foreign slave woman.” She now has a purpose bigger than herself or her slavery.
Keeping those thoughts in mind, I pondered throughout this week about who we are in Hagar’s story. Now, there is of course the privileges of being white for most here and for some here of being a man. We’ve all heard, or at least I hope so, of the ways we assume that our privilege is a way of life for everyone when it is not. But what I want to focus on is the idea that Abraham’s tribe was considered the chosen people of God, the people who live on the faith and hope of God’s promise. You, Englewood Baptist Church, and I are the chosen people of God who live on the faith and hope of God’s promise. We are beloved children of God and are reminded of that every Sunday, every church picnic, every baptism and every celebration of life at a funeral. Scholars disagree about whether Hagar, as a slave, was considered part of Abraham’s faith family or not. Perhaps who Hagar is in today’s world is the custodian or cleaner of the church. Sometimes the employees of a church are members and sometimes they aren’t.
But another contemporary picture I see of Hagar is a woman raised in the church, any church really… because we are all at risk of hurting others. Maybe this imagined woman was baptized here and felt forced to participate in the church community. Perhaps she received unwanted advances from men or boys in the church. Maybe the other kids make fun of her for wearing different clothes, talking funny, or having a different culture or skin color. Perhaps her parents or Sunday School teachers told her she was stupid or that Jesus wouldn’t love her if she were a bad child. There are so many places for a child or adult to be hurt by the church community. We are human, after all. And we sometimes don’t think about how what we say or do will affect someone else.
Someone I know told me a story how the church she had been a member of for decades sent her a letter requesting she either give money or attend church right away, or else they would take her name off the membership rolls. Granted, she had not attended or given money in a few years, but in that time, she had been through a traumatic divorce, where her husband had left her with a large homestead to take care of as well as her restaurant business, let alone all the turmoil of losing her husband and partner. She had no time to attend church and no money to spare either. That the church sent her that impersonal letter, after years of being a part of them, devastated her and now she wants nothing to do with the church because of it.
We are taught from a very young age that the church is supposed to be a sanctuary and a safe place, a place where people reflect God’s love and caring. And so often we who are the church are not capable of holding so high a standard. We are not God. We make mistakes. We have biases and prejudices that we wouldn’t recognize even if they bit us in the face. People will get hurt. What can we do about it?
I left the church I was raised in around the time I entered high school. I did not turn my back on God, however, and I did not take my decision to leave lightly. All I knew is that my anger and sadness and sense of betrayal was so great, I could not feel God in that place or with those people anymore. For almost a decade, I became part of the now popular “spiritual but not religious” group. I sought out wisdom from every other major religion but Christianity and it took an amazingly open campus minister in college for me to see that there were other church homes and other Christian communities I might fit in.
Hagar’s story continues on past what we read today. Once again, she and her son are cast out of the tribe, but this time with resources, such as a skin of water and bread. It doesn’t last long and God hears her cries in the wilderness and shows her a well of water and promises her that everything will be alright. She and her son not only survive in the wilderness on their own, they thrive and prosper under God’s blessing.
As a chaplain, I meet people almost every day who no longer belong to a church family, for one reason or other. From the elderly patients in hospice who moved to be close to their kids and are unable to attend a new church in order to join to the family members of these patients who either disagree with this or that doctrine, or perhaps have been abused or neglected by the church. These people have been cast out into the wilderness just like Hagar. The forms I fill out for Medicare ask me the reason I visit people. And on 95% of them I check the boxes that say spiritual isolation and loneliness. There are so many people who are isolated and feel like no one hears their cry for spiritual companionship.
Yet, many move on and find other ways to be fulfilled spiritually and socially. “Spiritual but not religious” people often have put together a hodge podge of beliefs from their Sunday School lessons to popularized meditation from other religions. They often say that they find God in places other than church. They may even be uncomfortable with the language we Christians use, such as God, Jesus, Sin, Prayer. But in their place are words like Higher Power, Challenges, Teacher and Meditation. I don’t know about you, but those sound similar to my words of God, Jesus, Sin and Prayer. Is it possible that these wanderers of the wilderness really HAVE been talking with God all along? Is it possible that God speaks to those OUTSIDE of church, OUTSIDE of baptism, OUTSIDE of accepted society? Is it possible that people who claim no religion, who have no church or pastor or even use different words than us actually TALK to GOD?
So, here’s the REALLY tough part. What are we, the community of faith, those who believe in the hope and promise Jesus gave us… what are we supposed to do about all this? What wisdom do we learn from Hagar’s story? How can we act upon the wisdom that God’s word gave us?
First of all, be reassured that God speaks to each of you. Be reassured that God listens to you. Like Hagar, God never abandons you, even in your own wilderness. You may be sitting right there in the pew and be going through your own spiritual wilderness and no one here even realizes it. But God does. Be reassured that God is speaking to you. What do you hear? What will you say? What will you do?
And through that reassurance, there should be a desire not only to share the good news with others, but to LIVE the good news as well. Demonstrate to the lonely and isolated that God hasn’t abandoned them. Demonstrate to the spiritually or physically wounded and betrayed that through our imperfections, the Church, OUR community of faith, has something to offer them. Reassure your children and newly baptized that this church is a place to grow together and demonstrate to them that their bad experiences are heard and acted upon and that their questions and doubts of faith are normal and okay.
Go into the wilderness willingly and learn to find God there. Find out what these desert nomads, these “spiritual but not religious” people are thinking and experiencing. Learn their language so that you not only may interpret to us, your community of faith, but also that you may share your own faith story with them.
Hagar isn’t the only one in the bible who walks through the wilderness, is she? Read your bible. Know your faith and tradition. And invite with an open heart those who may have been cast out or forgotten, whether they are on your membership rolls or not.
And may the love of God, the hope in Jesus Christ, and the motivation of the Holy Spirit comfort and bless you your own journey. AMEN.
When Micah invited me to preach and told me about the Women of the Bible series, I got very excited. Micah and his family speak fondly of you all, well, Elizabeth does and I’m sure if Annelise could talk, she would as well. So, I’m grateful for a chance to meet you, of course. However, not often does a pastor tell me… pick any female character of the bible and preach on her. That is an extra special treat.
I chose Hagar because I have studied her more than any other woman in the Hebrew Scriptures. From class work to a very long thesis paper I wrote, I became fascinated with what her story could tell us as contemporary people of faith. Who is she to us?
Many scholars and Sunday School lessons talk about the story of Sarah and Hagar or the story of Isaac and Ishmael. I can understand how that happens. Hagar is just the vessel of the first born son of Abraham… and it is Abraham who is the chosen one of God, not Hagar. Or so we all are told.
But try to forget everything you remember about the story and focus just on Hagar. What do you see? The biggest thing I see in Genesis 16 is that God speaks to Hagar, God names her son and Hagar names God. Does this chapter have God speaking to Sarah or even to Abraham? No. God comes to Hagar. God names Ishmael, meaning “God hears”. And Hagar, a young foreign non-Hebrew slave woman speaks to God and names God El-Roi, meaning “God sees”. She is not the supporting role in this story. Hagar is the main character.
The next thing I see is a tragic story that is hard to think about. Hagar is forced to have sex with her 86 year old slave owner and beaten by the slave owner’s wife because she became pregnant, at the wife’s insistence. I can understand why Hagar ran away. But why does God tell her to return to her oppressors and abusers? This is a hard one for me to think about because I want God to be the liberator of all people and a God of love and justice. But Hagar’s situation is complicated and God can see a bigger picture.
So, how can we understand Hagar in a context that makes more sense? What faces of women who live today might reflect Hagar’s story for us? I was raised in a very conservative church that oppressed women to the extreme and if Hagar was born in this century, I can see her as a woman in that community.
Women are not allowed any power in the church, let alone to be ministers. Well, I take that back, they can organize the nursery and clean the church, except the altar area, where the male deacons can enter. They must submit all decisions about their life to their fathers until they marry, when the husband is the lord and ruler of her. Personally, that sounds like a gift-wrapped made pretty form of slavery. Women are strongly discouraged to divorce and strongly encouraged to put up with emotional, verbal and even physical abuse to keep a marriage together. And the justification of this slavery is that women are the source of all evil in the world and deserve the punishment of childbirth. Their wickedness will distort their thinking, so men must guide and discipline them. Any other form of thought, belief or culture will not be tolerated, because of its corruptive influence.
As you can see, I am no longer with that church. I have moved on and found another church community. But for Hagar, there was no other community. And I have seen women in the church I grew up in feel that way too. There is nowhere else to go. Women will put up with a lot in order to be with their kids, to provide them with food, security and shelter. I also don’t want you to think that life in my childhood church was horrific all the time. I enjoyed playing and learning with other kids. I laughed and was loved by many. And I know many women who are loved and cared for within that church community, despite their doctrine about women. For Hagar, when God tells her to return to her slavery, perhaps God knows that there is no place else for her and her baby right then. Perhaps God knows there are others in that community who will care and nurture her and her baby, despite her status as a slave woman.
Hagar is reflected in our own lives as well. There are people in our everyday lives that we must submit to, just as God tells Hagar to submit to Sarah. And it isn’t always comfortable or pleasant. There are our bosses and supervisors, our teachers and law enforcement officers, and sometimes it really, really hurts to be under their direction. Being disciplined, like Hagar, for something that is not your fault or that they told you to do in the first place happens often in today’s world. People with power over us will tend to be tempted to abuse it. That does not make it right. And in no way am I suggesting that any person should ever have to put up with sexual advances or being beaten. But there are times that waiting for a better moment will increase your chance of improving your situation.
Those who counsel battered women know this as well. If a woman leaves with no plan, the likelihood that she will be caught, beaten and/or killed is high. It makes sense if you think about it. Hagar ran with no plan or resources for her or her baby. If she went back and waited, she still would have no choice about sexual advances or beatings, but she would have a choice on how she saw herself. And now, she can return to her community and say to herself, “I am carrying a baby named by God and God spoke to me, a foreign slave woman.” She now has a purpose bigger than herself or her slavery.
Keeping those thoughts in mind, I pondered throughout this week about who we are in Hagar’s story. Now, there is of course the privileges of being white for most here and for some here of being a man. We’ve all heard, or at least I hope so, of the ways we assume that our privilege is a way of life for everyone when it is not. But what I want to focus on is the idea that Abraham’s tribe was considered the chosen people of God, the people who live on the faith and hope of God’s promise. You, Englewood Baptist Church, and I are the chosen people of God who live on the faith and hope of God’s promise. We are beloved children of God and are reminded of that every Sunday, every church picnic, every baptism and every celebration of life at a funeral. Scholars disagree about whether Hagar, as a slave, was considered part of Abraham’s faith family or not. Perhaps who Hagar is in today’s world is the custodian or cleaner of the church. Sometimes the employees of a church are members and sometimes they aren’t.
But another contemporary picture I see of Hagar is a woman raised in the church, any church really… because we are all at risk of hurting others. Maybe this imagined woman was baptized here and felt forced to participate in the church community. Perhaps she received unwanted advances from men or boys in the church. Maybe the other kids make fun of her for wearing different clothes, talking funny, or having a different culture or skin color. Perhaps her parents or Sunday School teachers told her she was stupid or that Jesus wouldn’t love her if she were a bad child. There are so many places for a child or adult to be hurt by the church community. We are human, after all. And we sometimes don’t think about how what we say or do will affect someone else.
Someone I know told me a story how the church she had been a member of for decades sent her a letter requesting she either give money or attend church right away, or else they would take her name off the membership rolls. Granted, she had not attended or given money in a few years, but in that time, she had been through a traumatic divorce, where her husband had left her with a large homestead to take care of as well as her restaurant business, let alone all the turmoil of losing her husband and partner. She had no time to attend church and no money to spare either. That the church sent her that impersonal letter, after years of being a part of them, devastated her and now she wants nothing to do with the church because of it.
We are taught from a very young age that the church is supposed to be a sanctuary and a safe place, a place where people reflect God’s love and caring. And so often we who are the church are not capable of holding so high a standard. We are not God. We make mistakes. We have biases and prejudices that we wouldn’t recognize even if they bit us in the face. People will get hurt. What can we do about it?
I left the church I was raised in around the time I entered high school. I did not turn my back on God, however, and I did not take my decision to leave lightly. All I knew is that my anger and sadness and sense of betrayal was so great, I could not feel God in that place or with those people anymore. For almost a decade, I became part of the now popular “spiritual but not religious” group. I sought out wisdom from every other major religion but Christianity and it took an amazingly open campus minister in college for me to see that there were other church homes and other Christian communities I might fit in.
Hagar’s story continues on past what we read today. Once again, she and her son are cast out of the tribe, but this time with resources, such as a skin of water and bread. It doesn’t last long and God hears her cries in the wilderness and shows her a well of water and promises her that everything will be alright. She and her son not only survive in the wilderness on their own, they thrive and prosper under God’s blessing.
As a chaplain, I meet people almost every day who no longer belong to a church family, for one reason or other. From the elderly patients in hospice who moved to be close to their kids and are unable to attend a new church in order to join to the family members of these patients who either disagree with this or that doctrine, or perhaps have been abused or neglected by the church. These people have been cast out into the wilderness just like Hagar. The forms I fill out for Medicare ask me the reason I visit people. And on 95% of them I check the boxes that say spiritual isolation and loneliness. There are so many people who are isolated and feel like no one hears their cry for spiritual companionship.
Yet, many move on and find other ways to be fulfilled spiritually and socially. “Spiritual but not religious” people often have put together a hodge podge of beliefs from their Sunday School lessons to popularized meditation from other religions. They often say that they find God in places other than church. They may even be uncomfortable with the language we Christians use, such as God, Jesus, Sin, Prayer. But in their place are words like Higher Power, Challenges, Teacher and Meditation. I don’t know about you, but those sound similar to my words of God, Jesus, Sin and Prayer. Is it possible that these wanderers of the wilderness really HAVE been talking with God all along? Is it possible that God speaks to those OUTSIDE of church, OUTSIDE of baptism, OUTSIDE of accepted society? Is it possible that people who claim no religion, who have no church or pastor or even use different words than us actually TALK to GOD?
So, here’s the REALLY tough part. What are we, the community of faith, those who believe in the hope and promise Jesus gave us… what are we supposed to do about all this? What wisdom do we learn from Hagar’s story? How can we act upon the wisdom that God’s word gave us?
First of all, be reassured that God speaks to each of you. Be reassured that God listens to you. Like Hagar, God never abandons you, even in your own wilderness. You may be sitting right there in the pew and be going through your own spiritual wilderness and no one here even realizes it. But God does. Be reassured that God is speaking to you. What do you hear? What will you say? What will you do?
And through that reassurance, there should be a desire not only to share the good news with others, but to LIVE the good news as well. Demonstrate to the lonely and isolated that God hasn’t abandoned them. Demonstrate to the spiritually or physically wounded and betrayed that through our imperfections, the Church, OUR community of faith, has something to offer them. Reassure your children and newly baptized that this church is a place to grow together and demonstrate to them that their bad experiences are heard and acted upon and that their questions and doubts of faith are normal and okay.
Go into the wilderness willingly and learn to find God there. Find out what these desert nomads, these “spiritual but not religious” people are thinking and experiencing. Learn their language so that you not only may interpret to us, your community of faith, but also that you may share your own faith story with them.
Hagar isn’t the only one in the bible who walks through the wilderness, is she? Read your bible. Know your faith and tradition. And invite with an open heart those who may have been cast out or forgotten, whether they are on your membership rolls or not.
And may the love of God, the hope in Jesus Christ, and the motivation of the Holy Spirit comfort and bless you your own journey. AMEN.