Question to ponder

"What is the Spiritual meaning of this event in your life?" This is a question that was posed to me in recent weeks. I think that this is a question at the heart of most events in our lives. What is the significant of this event/happening in our life? at this point in our life, as we are living it and in hindsight, what do we make of it as we reflect on some event that has occurred in recent months or years? I suppose that various events take on different meaning to us depending on what we are dealing with at any given time. It is usually hard to figure out the meaning of things as we are in the midst of the chaos or action, but upon reflection, it might be easier to discern the impact on our lives.

Often this is the question that I ask of my patients. That based on where you are at this time in your life, how do you make sense of this event? What is the meaning of this happening? What is giving you purpose at this time in your life?

This may seem simple, but really, it takes a while to ponder. One patient told me yesterday that when I went her months ago, it was what I told her and the fact that I listened as she tried to make sense of her illness that helped her to see it in a different light. Often the answers are not known to us right away, but take time to discern. Sadly, not everyone engages in self-reflection.

Mercies Anew

This is a song that the choir had specially commissioned for someone in our church ...

Mercies Anew

Commissioned for Evelyn Loewen by FBC Choir

Written by Mark Altrogge and Bob Kauflin, Arranged by Larry Nickel

Ev’ry morning that breaks there are mercies anew.

Ev’ry breath that I take is Your faithfulness proved.

At the end of each day, when my labours are through,

I will sing of your mercies anew.

And your mercies they will never end;

For ten thousand years, they remain.

And then this world’s beauty has passed away,

Your mercies will be unchanged.

When I’ve fallen and strayed, there were mercies anew,

You sought me in love and my heart You pursued.

In the face of my sin, Lord, You never withdrew.

I will sing of your mercies anew.

And your mercies they will never end;

For ten thousand years, they remain.

And then this world’s beauty has passed away,

Your mercies will be unchanged.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

when the storms swirl and rage there are mercies anew

In affliction and pain You will carry me through

And at the end of my days when Your throne fills my view

I will sing of Your mercies anew

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

And then this world’s beauty has passed away,

Your mercies will be unchanged.

at the end of my days when Your throne fills my view

I will sing of Your mercies anew

I will sing of Your mercies anew

Putting a Face to Tragedy

Because the links often disappear from the net, I am copying and putting the local paper's article here.

Mike's journey ends in fatal misfortune

By MATT KIELTYKA, 24 HOURS

A disabled homeless man is found murdered at an elementary school.

For most people, that's all they'll ever learn about Michael Nestoruk.

The 41-year-old's life before his grisly death Thursday has been an enigma to police, but a snapshot of the man taken two years ago reveals much more.

In February 2007, Nestoruk contacted 24 hours months after a photo of him - sleeping at Victory Square with his beat-down wheelchair by his side - was used on the cover.

Seeing himself as the poster boy for homelessness turned out to be a shock to Nestoruk's system, and a huge motivator as he battled to reclaim a normal life.

"I was pissed off because there I was exposed to everyone," the fiery father of two was quoted in "Back from abyss," a feature that ran in 24 hours on Feb. 27, 2007. "It's the only picture of me on the street and I thought 'what are my kids going to think when they see this?'"

He was estranged from his wife and his two children.

With the help of two B.C. Paraplegic Association outreach workers, Nestoruk dragged himself out of a drug-addicted lifestyle one step at a time.

He received a new wheelchair, a prosthetic leg and became an inspiration to others as he kicked a destructive drug habit and joined the province's wheelchair tennis team.

Spring Cleaning for (of) the Soul

This month's theme for the bulletin board at work is "Spring Cleaning for the Soul". This has various meanings. First, it is Spring!! (Yipee!) that means that flowers will soon bloom and things will grow and the earth's beauty will be changed yet again.

It is also a time to clean out the junk in the house, closet, or desk and get rid of what you don't use, need or want. It is said that a good rule of thumb is "if you haven't used it in 6 months, you likely aren't going to." So get rid of the papers, get rid of the "skinny jeans" that you hoped to loose enough weight to fit into, get rid of books that you aren't going to re-read, get rid of clutter. It will make you feel better in more ways than one.

Cleaning for the soul is therapeutic. Cleaning out the junk that you trip over, the piles that manifest.. it frees you when you get rid of or let go of "things". The other "soul cleaning" is your emotional, psychological, and spiritual well-being. Is there stuff that you hang onto? Things that you wish you would/could change about yourself? Things that you don't want to see/know about yourself? It's time to take this stuff out, look at it, examine it, and understand why you are keeping it. It could be a thought about your self, leading to low self-esteem; it could be a grudge against someone from way back when, leading to anger and bitterness; it could be a negative attitude... GET RID OF IT!! It's not doing you any good.

True there are some things that we hang on to, such as memories, pictures, momentos, but I'm talking about the issues and ideas that bog us down in life and keep us from being the content, loving people that we were created to be.

So get to it. Take out the trash of life. It will do your soul some good. If you can't do it alone, get someone to help you.

Quote of the day

The other day I realized that I had way too many bananas in the freezer and remembered a nurse had once asked me to make banana bread for her, which I did. So having bananas, I thought of her again and made another loaf. It is a newer recipe for me; one that was given as a wedding shower gift. The nurse was thrilled and asked if she was required to share it (with the other nurses). I told her that she could share it or hoard it, it was hers to do with.
The next day she came and told me that it was good and that her son loved it. She is Filipino and said, that her son asked if I was white.
The conversation she told me went like this.
"Mommy, who made this?"
"Oh.. ________ from work."
"Is she white?"
"Yes. She's white."
"That's what I thought. White people bake really good."

I thought it was funny. I have never heard of that concept before. But then we all have our gifts don't we?

Quote of the day

Overheard in rounds:

Head doctor instructing intern/fellow about a consult...

" So if you want this service (X) to come and see the patient about [this issue], then the best way is to go to their office and talk to them. Phoning them doesn't always get results."

"Ok. Where's their office?"

"I don't know. ... Somewhere in the hospital, but I've never known."

" Well that will get us far." (Considering how big the place is... Not.)

Funny place that this is... even the doctors saw the humor of the situation. And the team joked that perhaps the other service deliberately hides the office so that we don't add to their already busy case load.

World Kidney Day

PlainViews Article

This article is from Plainviews.org. A newsletter for chaplains out of the U.S.

Taming the Cell Phone — Benefits and Burdens in the Critical Care Setting

Rev. Peggy Muncie

They buzz, they beep, and they sing our favorite songs. They tell us who is calling and sometimes even why. We need them to stay in instant touch. We live in the age of the cell phone, BlackBerry, mp3 phone and who knows what will come next.

We are a long way from the wild dreams of my pre-teen years when I imagined the best thing in the world would be a phone in our car when I could then pass the time with friends as I was toted on errands and also to inform them of the teen gossip I had witnessed. Back then a car phone was luxury personified.

In 1990, I won a car phone! Granted it was about the size of a shoe box, but I was a proud mobile communicator. The phone enabled me to keep tabs on home and hospital; my family and my co-workers could reach me in times of need. I even indulged in chatting hands-free with my friends on long drives.

In the last twenty years mobile technology has exploded. There is a device in nearly every pocket, spanning the generations from grade school to gerontology.

Recently, I’ve witnessed the impact of cellular communication in the critical care hospital setting. I am troubled by what I see happening. Does it bring people together and help family and friends support each other in time of crisis? Or is it a diversion and distraction from being present to the feelings of the moment?

What has led me to write about this? On a Friday evening at 11:50 PM, a twenty-seven-year-old Hispanic male was brought by friends to the ER. He had been the victim of a street corner shooting in the neighborhood and was bleeding profusely. He was intubated, stabilized and prepared for surgery.

My pager rang at 12:04 AM. “A young male was shot. He is on the way to surgery. It doesn’t look good. The family is gathering, please come and offer support.” When I arrived at the hospital at 12:35 AM, a crowd of 25 people was present.

Seeking out the key family members I inquired, “How may I help?”

“Find out what is going on,” was their response.

As the family held vigil, the progress of surgery was monitored. The crowd grew. Five more people, then three more, then ten more arrived. As the anxious hours passed there was never a time in meeting with, listening to and praying alongside the growing family that there was NOT the buzz of a BlackBerry or jingle of a cell phone.

At 3:15 AM, the surgical resident arrived and asked me to escort the significant persons to the ICU waiting lounge, where the attending surgeon wanted to share the patient’s status. Even in the small square of the elevator the three key women were fielding cellular calls.

In the ICU lounge the surgical team painted a very critical and guarded picture. He was out of surgery. “The bleeding was nearly impossible to control. He required massive units of blood, as the bullet’s path injured a major artery. The next 12 hours are critical. In a few minutes he will be ready for you to see him,” said the surgeon. Prayer and hope-filled tension permeated the room; yet, so did the sound of the cell phone’s omnipresent ring spreading the anxious news.

Soon the family was escorted to be bedside. When we entered, the bleeding was again uncontrolled, blood pressure was dropping, and a code was called. The family spoke words of love and encouragement and prayed to the Almighty for life to be sustained. Still the noise of the cell phones were there among the commands of the code and the unique sounds of the ICU at 3:45 AM.

God and the patient heard the words of encouragement and love; yet, the random violence of the streets prevailed; life left this young man at 4:17 AM. A child of five was now fatherless.

The lead surgeon with compassion and sensitivity shared the message, “Your son and your husband has died. We were not able to save his life. We offered him everything we knew. We are extremely sorry. Please let us know if there is anything we can do.” Tears, shouts, sobs, the physical expressions of painful disbelief and grief overwhelmed this small room. So did the sound of the cell phone.

The family then poured into the room to spend time, to have their personal farewell, to come and see, to touch and feel, to know that in the last few hours a brother, a cousin, a godchild, a stepchild, a buddy, a childhood companion, a friend, had died. The family and friends came in twos and threes, in fives and sixes and as they came, they called and text messaged others. For two hours the mourners came to turn their disbelief into the reality of mourning. By 6:30 AM, there were probably about 100 persons bidding him goodbye.

How did the news travel so fast? What brought so many family, friends and neighbors to the hospital? What was this instrument of connection? What was it that persistently permeated the tears and wails of grief? What was it that drove family from the intensity of the moment to the sound of the familiar? The Cell. The BlackBerry. That was it. How do we tame this beast so it does not to draw those we care for from the intensity of the moment?

On planes, in movie theaters, in spas, in houses of worship, we silence our cellular devices. We stay present to the moment. In this practice of ministry the cell phone and the dilemma it presents is a phenomena that is encroaching on being pervasive.

This is a call I issue to my colleagues: Is it right to tame this technology at times such as these? Where lays the answer between the benefit and the burden of this means of instant communication in the critical care setting? How do we as caregivers help establish policy that keeps loved ones in the present and yet allows those who need to be informed and in touch to do so?
Rev. Peggy Muncie is an ordained Episcopal priest and has been a board certified chaplain since 1984. Her breadth of ministry includes campus, long-term care, aging, acute-care hospital, and outpatient chaplaincy. She is currently a staff chaplain at St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center in the New York City area, a HealthCare Chaplaincy partner.

Faith IQ??

Today's edition of the local newspaper had an interesting article about faith. It essentially summarizes James Fowler's book Stages of Faith.





The article is called
Stages of faith: What's your spiritual quotient?
Many thinkers are making the case that humans are capable of evolving spiritually, of progressing to higher rungs

By Douglas Todd, Vancouver Sun
March 7, 2009

We all have IQs. Or Intelligence Quotients. IQ measure human's ability to reason with language, numbers and spatial relations. We also have EQs. Or Emotional Quotients.

Made famous by psychologist Daniel Goleman, they describe humans' skill handling emotions. We also have what could be called MQs, or Moral Quotients. Researcher Lawrence Kohlberg has been among those measuring humans' capacity for empathy and ethical reasoning.

We also, I would suggest, have SQs, or Spiritual Quotients.

Psychologists have done incredible work in the past century measuring the developmental stages of humans as they transform from mother-hugging infants into rebellious teenagers and, with a bit of luck, responsible adults. Some complain that religiosity, or belief in God, should not be similarly categorized. In this politically correct era, they don't want to hear about (gasp) spiritual hierarchies -- in which one spiritual stage is considered higher than another. But why not?

Just as Swiss social scientist Jean Piaget mapped out the four stages in which children learn to take in reality, and psychologist Erik Erikson outlined eight healthy stages we can go through from birth to death, many thinkers are making a good case that humans also spiritually evolve.

People are capable of progressing up a spiritual ladder. It doesn't mean they become smug on the higher spiritual rungs. Au contraire. But they can learn to function at a more complex, subtle and profound spiritual level.

Some of the scholars, psychologists and mystics who have been mapping the stages of spiritual growth include Clare Graves, Robert Kegan, Sri Aurobindo, Don Beck and especially Ken Wilber in his book, Integral Spirituality. In Vancouver, educator Chris Dierkes is among those specializing on the subject.

One of the spiritual development experts I find most intriguing is psychologist James Fowler of Emory University, author of the classic book, Stages of Faith. Fowler believes every baby starts out "undifferentiated." Babies don't make a distinction between a mother's warm, safe breast and God.

Fowler doesn't even call this primal beginning a stage. As a result, he says the first stage of spiritual development, which lasts from ages two to seven, is the one of unconscious religious fantasy.

After this comes the "mythic" stage. It's when people begin holding to literal and absolute truths. They might, for instance, believe the Genesis account of a six-day creation is fact. After this comes the third stage -- of "conventional" faith or spirituality.

It occurs when people move beyond their family of origin and seriously engage schools, peers and the media. They accept the judgment of significant others, like teachers and clergy. This conformist stage is when people develop loyalty to an ideology, group or lifestyle -- whether religious, military, artistic, economic or political. It is also when many religious groups often choose, unwisely, to hold "confirmation" classes, requiring teenagers to commit to a religious doctrine.

Many people, however, move on from this conformist approach -- to stage four, which is where Fowler says spirituality becomes more of an individual struggle. Stage four, to Fowler, marks a more reflective time, where self-actualization becomes the prime concern, and people try to take personal responsibility for their beliefs. In stage four a person starts listening to often-disturbing inner voices that challenge orthodoxy. They begin looking seriously at other religions and belief systems, realizing some of their convictions may be relative. This stage can happen in young adulthood or in one's 30s or 40s.

It often rises up just after religious "confirmation" classes, leading many teens to completely reject the religion of their youth. It is a "demythologizing" stage, Fowler says. It includes some atheists.

"It's dangers are inherent in its strengths; stage four comes with an excessive confidence in . . . critical thought and a kind of second narcissism."

The fifth stage of spiritual development leads to integration. In this stage, which is unusual before mid-life, Fowler says we recognize our own weaknesses and can see truth in paradox. The religion scholar Paul Ricouer would see stage five as one of "second naivete," Fowler says.

It's a helpful phrase. "Second naivete" occurs when people no longer take literally the stories of any spiritual or cultural tradition, either western or eastern. Instead, they deeply explore in themselves the "symbolic power" of stories about Moses, Jesus, Krishna, Buddha and others. They treat the stories "as if" they were true, mining them for transcendent meaning.

Finally, there is the highest stage of spiritual growth -- six: The universal. Fowler says it is "exceedingly rare" to achieve stage six, which some might call enlightenment. People in this stage "have become incarnators and actualizers of the spirit of an inclusive and fulfilled human community."

"Universalizers are often experienced as subversive of the structures (including religious) by which we sustain our individual and corporate survival and significance. Many persons in this stage die at the hands of those whom they hope to change," Fowler says.

No doubt thinking of people such as Jesus, Gandhi, Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddha, Aung San Suu Kyi and other courageous luminaries, Fowler says universalizers don't necessarily have to believe in God. But they do "have a special grace that makes them seem more lucid, more simple and yet somehow more fully human than the rest of us." They are not necessarily perfect. But people who have reached this enlightened sixth stage of spiritual development think globally, while still cherishing the particular.

That includes their specific communities, which at their best can be "vessels of the universal." Life, for those at stage six, is "both loved and held to loosely," Fowler says. "Such persons are ready for fellowship with persons at any of the other stages and from any other faith tradition."

To me, Fowler and his ilk make a convincing and eloquent case: Not all spiritualities are created equal.

Anti Bully Day AKA "Wear Pink Day"

This past Wednesday, our colleague led us in devotional/thought for the week related to "Anti-Bullying day". I never knew where this came from until he read us a brief story about the origin.

The pink movement was begun last fall by two Annapolis Valley students who rallied around a younger student after he was bullied for wearing a pink polo shirt on the first day of school.

David Shepherd and Travis Price, who were in Grade 12 at Central Kings Rural High School, asked all students at their school to wear pink T-shirts to combat bullying.

They bought 50 pink shirts from a discount store, then e-mailed classmates to get them on board. The next day, hundreds of students showed up wearing pink clothing. Before long, the movement had spread around the province and across the country.

I got a kick out of hearing where this originated as I went to university in the area and had to pass the school numerous times on my way around town.

Our colleague led us in a meditation about this....

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

Mat you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content kneeing you are a child of God.

Let this presence settle into your bones and allow your soul the freedom to sin, dance, praise and love.

Bullies’ words sing and slice through me.

Bullies’ words twist into shapes that beat me and leave me like a trampled leaf.

I run to hide but there is no safe corner.

I only need a small place to lick my wounds.

If God loves me enough to create me and to give me life, then I can love and respect myself no less. I no longer believe that I am undeserving of the good things in life made available for myself and everyone else in the world.

There are always times when we feel unlovely and unloved, bewildered, lost, unsure of who we are and of what is expected of us.

There always seem to be dark time of pain and confusion, of misunderstandings that become like tangled roots – twisted – without space to grow deeply.

I know that God is the one and only source of my being. Spirit Itself created me. Life Itself lives through me. Love Itself sustains me. I am an important and connected part of this spiritual universe.

Therefore: I ACCEPT my own beauty, and I see it reflected in the world around me.

I ACCEPT my own power, and I use it wisely.

I ACCEPT my own worth, and I live generously.

I ACCEPT my own love, and I share it freely.

I ACCEPT my own potential, and I live it fully.

There are always times when we feel trashed and rejected, sometimes by those close to us. And so we pack our pain away deep down, as deep as twisted roots, and tightly, very tightly, afraid it might be glimpsed, unpacked by cruel tongues.

My past, my false beliefs, and my feeling of unworthiness no longer define me. I accept full responsibility for my life, my thoughts, my feelings and my actions. I mat not always like what I do or how I feel, but I choose always to love myself in the meantime. Never again will I judge myself as undeserving of becoming the person I was meant to be.

Help us to disentangle the knots of confusion and misunderstanding,

To understand the hurts that other feel – that we have ignored.

To those who withhold refuge, I cradle you in safety at the core of my Being.

To those that cause a child to cry out, I grant you the freedom to express your own choked agony.

To those that inflict terror, I remind you that you shine with the purity of a thousand suns.

To those who would confine, suppress, or deny, I offer the limitless expanse of the sky.

To those who need to cut, or burn, I remind you of the invincibility of Spring.

To those who cling and grasp, I promise generosity without measure.

To those who vent their rage on small children, I return to you your deepest innocence.

To those who must frighten into submission, I hold you in the bosom of your original mother.

To those who cause agony to other, I give the gift of free flowing tears.

To those that deny another’s right to be, I remind you that the angels sang in celebration of you on the day of your birth.

To those who see only division and separateness, I remind you that a part is born only bisecting a whole.

For those who have forgotten the tender mercy of a mother’s embrace, I send a gentle breeze to caress your brow.

To those who still fee somehow incomplete, I offer the perfect sanctity of this moment.

Help us to speak of what we feel.

Help us to know when others need to speak so that then we can listen.

God the father and mother of us all, beyond our highest thoughts and deepest knowledge, who has given us the gift of language that we may communicate with one another and talk of every aspect of your created world, direct our mind and our lips that in all our dealings with others our word may be fair, so that we cause no hurt, and let our actions reflect the kindness of our words. Amen.

Help us to loosen the tight package of pain and move into new understandings.

Dear Lord, we know that you have given us the freedom to choose. We can choose whether to treat others with kindness and respect or to scorn, bully and abuse them. Help us to choose rightly.

Help us to recognize the divine image in each one of us, however different we may be as individuals.

Help us to resist the pressures of others who want us to join them in making someone a victim of their cruelty. Help us to know that in hurting others we are hurting our better selves and hurting you. Amen.

Let share, and search and listen; let us know ourselves more completely and feel an awakened sense of all that is good and true spilling over into riches of brightness and love.

May the God of light shine from us; the love of God flow through us; the power of God inspire us; and the presence of God make us bold in the ways of peace so that wherever we are, God is, and all may be well. Amen.

In Times like these....

These past 2 weeks have been busy. "Busy crazy" as I call it. I returned from a week away and scrambled to catch up. Surprisingly, despite the busy-ness of it all, I have been very focused. More so than in the longest time. My first week back, I was on call. That means from 6 or 8 p.m. I carry a pager and respond when it goes off. The first day I had it, it went off at 2:30 a.m. I called in to find out that the staff were in the middle of a code (complete with CPR) and that the family member was on their way up to the ward. I made it there is 30 minutes instead of the usual hour. I guess it is partly due to the lack of traffic on the usually crowded highways...

Then when I was there supporting the family member, I was paged by another unit saying that a patient had died and that the family would like an Anglican minister to come and pray. At 4 in the morning, it was unlikely that I would find anyone as I think we mostly have office numbers as contact. So I went and prayed with them even though I am not Anglican, then I went back upstairs to continue with family #1. I got home when I would normally be getting up and "slept in" going back to work for 10 a.m.

This week has been busy as well. Referals about patients who are depressed and want to die. They "want to go to sleep and not wake up" or they are just "tired of being sick". I have been watching some of my long-term patients (people I have known for many months, and in some cases, many years) decline. Loosing their physical function, or cognitive status -- not knowing where they are, when did they last talk to their family member (yesterday or 2 hours ago), or going into cardiac arrest.

Yesterday, I attended a code blue before I left that day. The patient's family was there and I knew them all pretty well. I actually cried when I left them. It is hard to see patients crash. It is hard to leave them while the story is still playing out...

This morning I was thinking about the patient who crashed before I left. They "aren't really religious". The family has church afilliations but they have not been active for a number of years due to working schedules and health status. And for some reason, the verse of a hymn that I learned as a child came to my head. This is what I have to offer them...



In times like these, we need a Savior.
In times like these, we need an anchor.
Be very sure, Be very sure,
Your anchor holds and grips the solid Rock.



My head messes up and says "be very sure your anchor hold through the storms of life" which alludes to another hymn, "Will your anchor hold in the storms of life?"






That is what a lot of people need in their lives, is to know that when life's storms come, that they are strong enough to weather it, and won't crash into the sea of turmoil. But also to know that should they crash into the sea, that there is someone to help pull them out. A friend, a brother, a mom, a nurse, a doctor, ... a caring soul... who won't let them go down alone.

Warm Fuzzies

This past week, there was a fire in Austrailian Bush country. A koala bear was found (see video below) and given water by a firefighter. She was taken to a shelter and named Sam. Sam met "Bob" who was also rescued and the two have befriended each other in their time of survival. It is a love story that has captivated the world.




Another warm fuzzy is an email I received with pictures of babies. No one I know but cute.

Art Show: Images of Hope

One of my colleagues is a painter. Today he had a showing of his paintings. The theme was "Images of Hope".




One woman who stopped told me that this was just what she needed today, as she was feeling down in the morning. Likely the weather,

About Heavens

Here is a video to watch .. art show.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFgwyoGjTyc

Poetry

I found a new poetry book. Bartlett's Poems for Occasions William Butler Yeats. b. 1865

863. When You are Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,	5
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled	10
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

3. An Old Man’s Winter Night

ALL out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.	5
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again	10
In clomping off;—and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself	15
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case	20
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.	25
One aged man—one man—can’t fill a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.

http://www.canadianmennonite.org/vol12-2008/12-22/feature.php#article1

Lessons from the "Other side of the Bed"

Over the past few weeks, I have learned what it is like to be IN the hospital bed, versus being caregiver to people in the hospital bed. I wasn't admitted, but I did spend a lot of time in ER, as an outpatient. The waiting is hard.

My husband is not good with the hospital experience -- people in the beds next to you , moaning and groaning, calling out for attention... being forced to wait for ... whatever. He coined it "hurry up and wait". The doctors did not like some of the test results I have had, and then call me up after I have just been there for 8 hours at work and then ask if it's too much of an inconvenience to come in so that they could see me. So I fed my husband supper and we went to the hospital yet again. Then we waited ... for an hour. Then a grumpy nurse took my vitals. Then another hour. A doctor finally showed up. Told me stuff that I didn't like. Told me to wait some more. Then sent me home at 1 in the morning telling me to go for more tests.

Then I was woken up first thing in the morning by a doctor on the phone telling me to come today. "Aren't you working anyhow? " (After getting home at 1 in the morning, I was sleeping. So no, I was not going to work. How was I expected to function and provide comfort and pastoral care to others when I needed some pastoral care myself?) So I went back in, they told me what the treatment plan is. And I agreed to do it. Even if it is just to get ALL of this over with.

Waiting for "whatever it is"... is hard. Being told things about your health that you don't want to hear is hard. Worrying about the worst case scenario is hard. What is worse? Knowing.. or not knowing. This is one of the lessons that I have learned about being a patient, versus caring for patients.

While waiting in various waiting areas of the hospital, it is interesting to see the types of cases that came in. People brought out in by ambulance drivers, head injuries, bleeding, people wanting pain control, homeless people, elderly, teenagers... all types of people with different cases trying to get help for whatever it is that ails them. Some get help in a timely manner, while others seem to sit and wait a long time. Based on what I saw, my issue was minor and while I hate being a patient and feared being admitted to my own hospital, I sure didn't want to be in the shoes of those I saw in the waiting room either.

Waiting... why is it so hard to do?

But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew [their] strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; [and] they shall walk, and not faint.

This is what I remember when I think of "waiting". I remember a sermon that I preached about this passage, with the main theme being that there is a difference between waiting for something, and waiting on the LORD. It is hard to wait for something, especially when you don't know what you are waiting for, or when you have no definitive date.

This week, I have learned the lesson of waiting, but unlike my patients I have been waiting at home. Not in a hospital. I still have some freedom to eat what I like, to sleep in my own bed, to go to the store should I need/want to, spend time with my husband.

I don't know that I'm going to like what I'm told when the waiting is done, but I will be glad that the wait is over and I can continue with my life.


Waiting is hard. Especially when you don't know what you are waiting for. Something, ANY thing, movement would be good. That is something my patients tell me. You don't like where you are and hope that when the time comes that what you have been waiting for will improve your life, instead of alter it drastically. I just hope that I have learned something good from all this waiting, that will benefit my time with my patients later.

Death of a Dream

Dreams are the things that hopes are made of .. or is it hope is the thing that dreams are made of. Either way, when a dream dies, it is hard to deal with that reality. Sometimes our dreams are the things that we used as a guideline, a goal that we were shooting for. Sometimes our dreams are unrealistic and hence unrealized..

When a person realizes that the dream that they sought and had put so much into is gone.. it is hard to get over.

Dreams are funny things. Some of them are attainable, but not meant for this time or place in our lives, while others die so that new ones can surface. And still others should never be....

Dreams encapulate our hopes. Hope is a good thing. It helps us to look to the future and focus on what we want out of life. It gives us a positive view of the world and the things that are in it.. but hope is also aware that not everything is rosy.. that not everything is perfect. No .. hope does not deny the evil the world, but works to move us beyond it. There is a quote that I have found about this.. I will have to add it later.

Still it is hard to move when we realize the death of a dream for whatever reason it dies. It is then our task to figure out how to move on, and find the dream/hope that best fits the place where we are.