Playing Together--Celebrating One Month!

My Aunt Vernita & Uncle Steve sent us our wedding gift this week, and its one we're pretty excited about! They said that throughout their first year of marriage they celebrated each month on their "monthiversary" by going out on a date, or doing something little for one another. We definitely have decided to adopt this tradition. So they sent us a journal to put pictures from whatever we do on each month, and some cash to help us celebrate our first month. We decided buying groceries with the cash wasn't going to be very fun so we went to play last night, which is something we realized we don't do very often. Usually our weekends are filled with social events with other people or homework or grocery shopping, and we don't just play. Well we did last night and we had a blast! First, I made a home made BBQ Chicken pizza which was awesome. Then we headed down to the Santa Monica pier to play some games and ride the feris wheel and then to get mud pie at the Chart House in Malibu, which is one of my very favorite desserts which Chuck had never had. We had a blast celebrating each other, spending time together, laughing, and sharing our favorite moments from our first month together. Thanks for such a great idea and evening Vernita & Steve!

So I am incapable of rolling pizza dough into a perfect circle, so our pizzas always have various shapes. Chuck thought this one was cool...I am LOVING playing with my new pizza stone and various recipes--yum!!In front of the pierGorgeous views from the feris wheel--we picked a great time of day, just as the sun setThe end of the pier--that's a Mexican restaurant out thereThe midwayPlaying midway gamesThis is Swish, Chuck won him for me by shooting the basketball perfectlyThe famous mud pieAll gone!

Walking Well

I had the opportunity to spend about two hours this week with a Catholic nun who is sick in the hospital, and she was an absolute delight! We had some great conversations, but I thought I'd share a snipet with you all that still has me thinking and musing. She had a hospital room that over looks the front entrance of the hospital, so at one point she was looking out the window and said,

"What has been so fun has been sitting here watching all these people walk in and out of the hospital. And what is remarkable to me is that some of them walk SO well!"
I was a bit perplexed, so I asked, "“They walk so well? Can you tell me a bit more about what you mean by that?”
"I just mean that they walk, so upright, so fast, so strong, so confidently, it’s like they just march right along."

I thought this was an interesting thing to notice, or to comment on and wasn't sure where to go with the conversation next. As chaplains we are taught to let the patient guide the conversation, to try and listen really closely for what might be underneath some of the comments made, and to ask gently probing questions to get at the feelings someone might be experiencing even if they don't initially state that outright. Her next comment gave me the direction to pursue.

"I used to love to walk, every day I would go out for a walk, at least a half an hour. Then it took awhile to get use to not being able to do that any more when all this happened to my heart."

Ah ha. Grieving the loss of a physical ability, a very common experience for many in hospitals, and an issue many people don't spend the time helping them process. We think in life that we can't grieve something unless it's a drastic change--a divorce or a death, but in reality there are little changes, losses and transitions that happen all the time to us that cause feelings of grief and sadness in our lives, feelings many of us are taught to ignore along the way.

"You know Sister, sometimes I think it's okay to feel sad about not being able to walk quite like you used to, I think it's okay to acknowledge that loss and grieve for that."

"You know what Sarah? I think you are right, I am sad about that. I am so grateful about so many other things in my life, but I think it is okay to not be happy about this right now."

Walking well. How many of us really stop and think about this ability? Probably not too many of us. But I'm spending a lot of time these days around people who have lost this ability, and have spent quite a bit of time helping them put words to the feelings of sadness and loss that comes with this. And I am slowly becoming more and more grateful for those little things in life I have taken for granted for so long. I am also learning what a gift it is to give people an outlet to let them express the pain and grief and feelings that many family members won't. We want to encourage people in the hospitals to "cheer up, get well soon, be strong, you'll be fine..." when in reality giving them space to hurt, grieve, cry, be angry or vocalize questions and doubts is by far more healing to their hearts and spirits. I'm spending a lot of time with strong emotions of total strangers, and while I am still coming home exhausted, I am realizing what an incredible gift it is to be invited to enter into sacred territory with so many patients and their family members.

Venturing back into the social world....

I finally have hit a pretty good stride at the hospital--I have figured out a little more how to be a chaplain, and while I certainly have some great days and some that could be better, my energy is slowly coming back and I am not nearly as overwhelmed with all the transitions in life. Which means, I have had the energy to be at three different social events this week, which was awesome! I have missed my friends!! Thursday night was a birthday party for a friend where a bunch of women gathered and made the most incredible quesadillas I have ever had. We filled them with chicken, grilled veggies, beans, homemade guacamole, salsa, sour cream etc and then put them on the bbq to grill them. AMAZING!! Friday evening a group went to a spontaneous dinner in Old Town, and Chuck and I went and met them after I'd had about a half hour to decompress and wind down after a long day at the hospital. Last night our small group through Mosaic, which is disbanding for now, had one last BBQ to celebrate our time together. It was great to see friends we hadn't seen in over a month! Here are some photos from last night that Theo took with his awesome camera.

Randy meets Scarlet, the McCawChuck, Debbie and Wendy check out all the food

Christine and IDessert--baby bundt cakes in all kinds of flavors--yum!Theo and WendyPeter and Susan, our grill mastersSusan and WendyTime for some croquet! I was amazed, no one else had ever played--Chuck had played a long time ago, but no one else had. Megs and I used to play a lot as kids, and I actually apparently remembered some skill, I won!Poor Chuck...that red ball is his, it didn't quite go through the wicket.Group photo!

Joys and Pain

We sat down to dinner tonight and Chuck clasped his hands together, looked at me, and said "ok, time for what has quickly become my favorite time of the day...hospital highlights!" And every day I have some story for him of something random, or beautiful, or heart breaking, or just plain strange that happened today. The hospital is a strange place--I told him tonight I think that it is so full of so many stories because a hospital is one of the few great equalizers we have in our world. Every patient is dressed in the same gown, is served by the same staff, and it is one of the few places where a wealthy business man could be in a bed next door to a homeless person. The hospital is a cross section of humanity unlike almost anywhere else I can think of. Each day I come home with stories that make me laugh, and stories that break my heart. This week alone a patient's husband spent an hour and a half trying to convert me to become a Jehovah's Witness, a patient asked me to sign a power of attorney form that looked like a fake document which I had to give to a social worker, I met countless family members at bed sides, prayed with multiple people, called more than one priest in for anointing, and sat and listened to a few patients sob with fear and grief at being in the hospital, away from their children and families. Each day I come home exhausted, drained, yet somehow strangely fulfilled. Often I feel helpless, like I can do nothing for a person besides listen (which I know is really what most of them need), yet it feels good to be out of a classroom, attempting to bring my faith and theology to the real world, to a place where there is more hurt and pain than I have ever experienced. There is also moments of laughter and joy as strange thing happen in hospitals, but those are stories for another day...

Otherwise I come home from work, make and eat dinner with my husband on most nights, and then I read or try to relax a little while he does homework til 9. We are always in bed before 10:00, which both of us are loving--and makes it much easier to get up when our alarms go off at 6 and 6:20. That's pretty much life right now, not much variety in the schedule, but I think I am liking it--there is something about this routine that seems to be good for me. I clean or grocery shop occasionally in the evenings, usually Saturday afternoons, and well, that's about it. I think I am feeling somewhat guilty about not having energy to return phone calls very often to catch up with friends, but I'd been warned I'd feel this way--like I'd been talking and listening literally all day and just have zero relational energy left, so I am trying to give myself grace here (and ask those who I seem to be ignoring for grace as well--I am really NOT trying to ignore you!) but it's tough because my relationships and friendships mean so much to me. So that is life these days...the days are never the same, the evenings often are, and something feels good about this.

Celebrating the crucifixion in the hospital

I know it's been awhile since I have actually written anything, it has been a whirlwind couple weeks and I am absolutely exhausted to be perfectly honest. I am slowly learning how to be a chaplain, something that I feel very unprepared and unqualified to do. I have responded to a couple "code blues" this week, sitting with family members in a hallway as the medical staff revived loved ones (one person survived, the other did not--which led to me being able to arrange a space for the family to gather and sit with the body of their loved one to say their goodbyes). No amount of seminary classes prepared me for this experience. No seminary class helped me figure out how to react when the pager goes off and next to the call back number is written "911."

I've sat and listened and prayed with a former Presbyterian missionary who is in his 80s while his wife was undergoing tests. I have had the privilege to stand with a family who spoke no English as their loved one lay dead on the viewing room bed--completely unable to talk with them, but was able to stand with them for six hours in silence, offering a comforting hand on the wife and daughter's shoulders. I was able to care for a family who was grieving around a hospital bed by intercepting a nurse was about to walk into the room with a body bag in hand to move their loved one. I was able to convince her to give me a few minutes to help the family have closure before she walked in and scared them. I was able to call in a priest for a Catholic patient who was dying and whom the family desired to be anointed. And it's only been one week of seeing patients. I have no idea what the rest of the quarter holds.

I've been really struggling with grief and suffering this week. Where is God in the midst of so much pain? Where is God when we pray for healing and healing doesn't come the way we want it to? Why does life have to hurt so much? We celebrated Good Friday in a chapel service there in the hospital for staff, families and patients to be able to attend, and I have to be honest, when I arrived at work that morning, thinking about Easter was the last thing I wanted to do. I was an emotional wreck--completely exhausted, and broke down in front of my group of chaplains when they asked how I was. I was not okay. But after some encouragement and support from my supervisor and peers I was able to wander back out onto the floors assigned to me and wasn't able to visit patients but was able to walk the halls and pray. Then it was time for the Good Friday service. I entered the chapel, required to be there, but not really in the mood. See, Good Friday services have always been celebrated in the nice, clean, safe, and pseudo-happy environments of a church. I've never been to one elsewhere. You show up as a family, no one is crying, any pain people have is pushed aside and "church faces" are safely in place--those faces that say "I may not have had a good week but I'm not about to let you know that." This year, I celebrated Good Friday in a room with doctors and nurses who desperately want to cure their patient's suffering. I celebrated with family members who were taking a break from bedsides. I celebrated with a few patients who were pushed in wheel chairs. And when the pastors asked questions and invited us to explore the darkness and suffering and pain of Good Friday something clicked. I think hospitals and prisons are much more meaningful places to celebrate a day focused on the pain and suffering of Jesus. Churches are too clean, too sterile. Suffering isn't as welcomed. Resurrection hope seems to have a more poignant meaning in a place where hope is all some people are clinging to. And for others they have lost hope completely. I've sat with both types of family this week. And for the first time, I resonated with Good Friday. I have always loved holy days--including Good Friday. But I've always loved the beauty and ritual surrounding it, I don't think I ever got it. Yesterday though, I started to understand the suffering Jesus came to conquer and endured himself. I celebrated his death in a place where so many others are facing their own. And while my questions and pain haven't subsided, I walked out realizing we have a God who understands our suffering more than we will ever fully know.

In closing I had to share this poem with you. I found it in my daily prayer book that I have been reading. It's called "Resurrection" and it talks of resurrection amidst pain, and how we have to endure pain to understand resurrection. May the Lord bless each of you this Easter weekend.

Resurrection by Mary Ann Bernard

Long, long, long ago;
Way before this winter’s snow
First fell upon these weathered fields;
I used to sit and watch and feel
And dream of how the spring would be,
When through the winter’s stormy sea
She’d raise her green and growing head,
Her warmth would resurrect the dead.

Long before this winter’s snow
I dreamt of this day’s sunny glow
And thought somehow my pain would pass
With winter’s pain, and peace like grass
Would simply grow. The pain’s not gone.
It’s still as cold and hard and long
As lonely pain has ever been,
It cuts so deep and far within.

Long before this winter’s snow
I ran from pain, looked high and low
For some fast way to get around
It’s hurt and cold. I’d have found,
If I had looked at what was there,
That things don’t follow fast or fair.
That life goes on, and times do change,
And grass does grow despite life’s pains.

Long before this winter’s snow
I thought that this day’s sunny glow,
The smiling children and growing things
And flowers bright were brought by spring.
Now, I know the sun does shine,
That children smile, and from the dark, cold, grime
A flower comes. It groans, yet sings,
And through its pain, its peace begins.

Dad's Wedding Photos

My dad sent me the cd today of the wedding photos he had taken and he got some great shots that I haven't seen on other's cameras yet, so I thought I'd share a bunch. I know Missy is sending a CD soon, and the photographer said the professional photos would be ready for online viewing soon so as soon as I have that info I will pass them on. I'll have to update you all later this weekend on my first week at the hospital, but for now we'll just share pictures :)

Papa and I hanging out at the houseGrandma and ICatie finally gives my dad a smileThe rehearsal dinnerOur groomsmen, I wouldn't cross them...Teddy looking very cool in his Hawaiian shirtBrian and Miranda with a sleeping IsaacBecca and Jenn look like they are enjoying themselves at the beach partyBecca, Alan, Jenn and GeorgeRodd & Jon enjoying the beach balls (this is one of my favorite pictures!)Alan looking like the king of the Hawaiian party--Alan, can this please be your new facebook photo??Ed looking good in his Hawaiian shirt & his leiCatie and I enjoying a little one on one timeMy hula dancing husband--I love this photo too :)George, looking like the ultimate youth pastor here :)Our ceremony site==minus some of the flowers and aisle runner at this pointPortraits in the green houseDad came out side for a few shotsUp above us59 years of marriage...Helen and her grandpaComing out for photosBeing greeted by our bridesmaids singing Goin to the ChapelRyan and Alethia observe from the windows aboveHe's trying to keep me warm between photosWith the KennedysWhat I am sure will be our family's Christmas card photo this yearDancing time!Time to run away through the tunnel of people!My two Jenn's