This week I have chosen to reflect on something that came up in IPR. In talking within the group this week, it once again became very clear to me that a good support system is so important. I took the weekend to look again at the support system that I have put in place around myself.
While at CPE this summer, we have been thrown together somewhat haphazardly as a group of students who are all learning their own lessons in their own way and at their own pace.
It was mentioned this week that I look confident and in control of what I was doing. This gave me some pause for thought. I began to wonder if I only appeared confident or if I really was that confident.
I came to the conclusion that I am certainly not completely comfortable with all I’m doing, and I certainly don’t feel in complete control. I don’t feel that I know everything, or that I am particularly confident, so what is it that causes that appearance? What I came to realize is that things wouldn’t appear, or even be so without a whole lot of help. I have to recognize and give credit to the fact that I have a strong support system. While involved in the field ed. program, I learned after a number of terrible experiences, how to make it through. What I needed then and what I continue to need is to surround myself with people who may know more than me about what I’m doing, who may be in the same position I am in, as well as people who can support me and cheer me on when I’m getting dragged down. In that experience, this group of course included some of the other students, but for me, it also included good friends outside of my program, as well as my family, and my parish priest.
Wondering how it is that I feel or at least appear as balanced as I do, I remember that I do purposefully spend some time in conversation with the others in our class, but I also purposefully call on others from my support team when I get home to unload, or I spend an hour or so with my husband telling him about how the day went. I also try to spend 30 minutes or so each week with my priest and mentor discussing how things are going, and what is impacting me. I’m not sure I could feel as sure of myself without these people in my life.
I have developed and used this team strategy for a number of different things that I do. As I mentioned, it became very clear in Field Ed. that I needed this however it is also a tactic that I employ within my youth ministry work as well. As a large team, one of the biggest things I insist on when we meet as team leaders, as well as via email when we can’t be face to face, is to support each other , to hear what the other is struggling with, to offer support in prayer, listening, or even in suggesting how we have dealt with similar problems.
I have come to see that team work is always the best approach to anything. As we commonly hear at CPE, we need to collaborate with the other staff. I think that means that we also need to spend a great deal of time collaborating with each other as well. We spend a great deal of time talking about how we need to spend time talking to nurses and other staff members about patients, but we haven’t spent any time talking about how we can collaborate with each other.
In spite of my awareness that I need to do this, I wonder, as perhaps everyone else may, if this is even permitted. I can’t see why it wouldn’t be, but maybe we need to be clearer about the fact that it is not only ok, but also a supported and encouraged behaviour.
While I may have appeared very calm and put together surrounding worship, I attribute that to having a few others look it over, suggest changes and spent time re-working it before having to stand in front of others to ‘do’ it. The same thing happened with my group on T1. I came up with the initial outline, asked for feedback and advice, re-worked, and by the time the group came, the only thing I was stressed about was whether or not the youth would show up.
I have learned that although sometimes asking for what I need is awkward and uncomfortable, it sure works. I have learned to be more open about my needs. No one knows what I need better than I do, and no one can help if they don’t know what I am in need of.
I think that not only a strong support system, but also the willingness to ask for help, and take it when offered will be an enormous help to me in my future. It has not only helped in my relationships, in my youth ministry, as well as in CPE, but I anticipate that it will be very helpful in parish work as well. Not only will the idea of collaborating with members of the congregation alleviate some pressure, having a strong support system of other clergy, friends, and family will be a priceless asset to keep me grounded, strong, and healthy. Without those things, I recognize that I won’t be able to be what I need to be and what I’m called to be to others.
“Asking for help does not mean that we are weak or incompetent. It usually indicates an advanced level of honesty and intelligence.” - Anne Wilson Schaef
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Week 4
This week I have been given the opportunity to reflect on a number of things such as the importance of having a portable religion, the idea of “Do unto others” as well as I looked at some of my learning goals, boundary issues in particular.
With one visit this week, I was amazed to find myself pondering what it means to have a portable religion, and what a blessing a portable faith is. In visiting with a patient, I came to realize that she had a great desire to go to the Anglican church. I have not seen her in chapel, which made me think about what is available to her in this hospital, and where she is comfortable. It occurred to me that while everyone is doing their best to provide a wonderfully neutral multi-faith based style of worship and spiritual care program, what happens to those who don’t relate well to that? Is one size fits all multi-faith good for everyone? What happens to those who come from a very traditional faith base, who miss their liturgy, who miss the comfort of knowing what happens when, who miss big parts of their belief system because of the attempt at a broad stroke approach to worship. While the Catholic Mass is said once a week usually, what about the Anglicans, and the Lutherans, to name a few in particular who get left out in the worship planning. For example, a basic element of worship within those two traditions, a confession, must be included, without it, I might venture to say that it would not be considered worship. The multi-faith approach seems to miss out on touching things like this, that I am sure are intrinsic in all faith bases, while they may be different.
This led me to think on what it meant to have a portable religion or faith. What a joy it was for a patient to receive something as simple as a prayer book. I have found myself wondering what I might miss should I end up hospitalized here in this facility. My faith, which is a huge part of who I am, would be one of the things that I feel would suffer. There is no coming together for a traditional worship here that would be suited to me, while I do enjoy the worship services, I miss the tradition. I have wondered if having my own hymnal/prayer book would be enough to allow me to at least practice my faith on my own at some point, and how or if having something that portable would be sufficient to ground me in my faith. I think, at least for me, having something of my tradition, something familiar would be such a blessing.
I think in this I have learned that Pastoral Care, at least for me in this place, just may include some special attention and care given to those who miss their grounding in the traditions of their faith.
The second thing I have pondered this week, has been the idea of “do unto others”. I wonder sometimes, how to do that and still honour the other. How do I do to others, what they need, when that is definitely not what I would need, want or even be comfortable with?
The situation in particular I have been thinking about is a conversation I had with a patient. The patient dropped a few really obvious and clear topics for further discussion, and while I managed to hold my boundaries, I now find myself struggling with a whole new issue.
I know for me, that I tend to talk out my issues. If I had dropped such big hints in a conversation, and that person came to me a week or more later and questioned me, there is a very good chance that I would have either already worked through that, or it wasn’t really all that important and I will have forgotten. This leads me to struggle a bit with the idea that I feel that I am expected to go back to this patient and bring up this conversation when that is clearly not what I would have “done unto me”. I have been turning this over now, and trying to come up with ways to broach the subject still allowing her to bring it up again if it suits her.
This brings me to look at what does this little rule mean and how does that impact our own personal boundaries as well as those of others. How do we determine what it is we are supposed to do to others, when it is very likely different than what we would like to have done for us? This is something that I will need to think more about.
In reflecting on what I would have “done unto me” I began to wonder about IPR and why it doesn’t seem to be doing much for me. I feel able to contribute, comfortable in being in a conversation, and learning by absorbing what others are saying and thinking, but I’m not feeling like I’m really benefiting, either from a learning stand point or a growing curve. I just find that it is a flat conversation most of the time. In reflecting on this, I have given much thought to the idea that group discussion about areas of growth or concerns are just not for me. I would rather have individual conversations with a number of people rather than a group discussion. I know that I am very relational. I know that I am a very intimate person. Having a conversation with more than one or two other people at any given time is not intimate enough. I thought about why that might be, and if it could play into the fear of being judged, but I don’t think it does. While that can certainly be a concern, it’s not really what I’m feeling. I don’t know that there are necessarily negative feelings in me that arise in a group discussion, it’s just not something that I feel I get a lot out of. I tend to have the same conversation with five people, but not all at the same time, in the same room. I suppose that I need to think more on this.
In spite of the IPR seeming to not be the best forum for me, I am glad to be in a group with people who will listen to me when I need an ear, perhaps in a less formal setting.
This week I have learned a bit about myself. I have been challenged to think about the things I do, and why I do them. That is been a great experience. I have had wonderful opportunities to explore these feelings with some great friends, and have been able to enjoy doing it. How fortunate I am!
With one visit this week, I was amazed to find myself pondering what it means to have a portable religion, and what a blessing a portable faith is. In visiting with a patient, I came to realize that she had a great desire to go to the Anglican church. I have not seen her in chapel, which made me think about what is available to her in this hospital, and where she is comfortable. It occurred to me that while everyone is doing their best to provide a wonderfully neutral multi-faith based style of worship and spiritual care program, what happens to those who don’t relate well to that? Is one size fits all multi-faith good for everyone? What happens to those who come from a very traditional faith base, who miss their liturgy, who miss the comfort of knowing what happens when, who miss big parts of their belief system because of the attempt at a broad stroke approach to worship. While the Catholic Mass is said once a week usually, what about the Anglicans, and the Lutherans, to name a few in particular who get left out in the worship planning. For example, a basic element of worship within those two traditions, a confession, must be included, without it, I might venture to say that it would not be considered worship. The multi-faith approach seems to miss out on touching things like this, that I am sure are intrinsic in all faith bases, while they may be different.
This led me to think on what it meant to have a portable religion or faith. What a joy it was for a patient to receive something as simple as a prayer book. I have found myself wondering what I might miss should I end up hospitalized here in this facility. My faith, which is a huge part of who I am, would be one of the things that I feel would suffer. There is no coming together for a traditional worship here that would be suited to me, while I do enjoy the worship services, I miss the tradition. I have wondered if having my own hymnal/prayer book would be enough to allow me to at least practice my faith on my own at some point, and how or if having something that portable would be sufficient to ground me in my faith. I think, at least for me, having something of my tradition, something familiar would be such a blessing.
I think in this I have learned that Pastoral Care, at least for me in this place, just may include some special attention and care given to those who miss their grounding in the traditions of their faith.
The second thing I have pondered this week, has been the idea of “do unto others”. I wonder sometimes, how to do that and still honour the other. How do I do to others, what they need, when that is definitely not what I would need, want or even be comfortable with?
The situation in particular I have been thinking about is a conversation I had with a patient. The patient dropped a few really obvious and clear topics for further discussion, and while I managed to hold my boundaries, I now find myself struggling with a whole new issue.
I know for me, that I tend to talk out my issues. If I had dropped such big hints in a conversation, and that person came to me a week or more later and questioned me, there is a very good chance that I would have either already worked through that, or it wasn’t really all that important and I will have forgotten. This leads me to struggle a bit with the idea that I feel that I am expected to go back to this patient and bring up this conversation when that is clearly not what I would have “done unto me”. I have been turning this over now, and trying to come up with ways to broach the subject still allowing her to bring it up again if it suits her.
This brings me to look at what does this little rule mean and how does that impact our own personal boundaries as well as those of others. How do we determine what it is we are supposed to do to others, when it is very likely different than what we would like to have done for us? This is something that I will need to think more about.
In reflecting on what I would have “done unto me” I began to wonder about IPR and why it doesn’t seem to be doing much for me. I feel able to contribute, comfortable in being in a conversation, and learning by absorbing what others are saying and thinking, but I’m not feeling like I’m really benefiting, either from a learning stand point or a growing curve. I just find that it is a flat conversation most of the time. In reflecting on this, I have given much thought to the idea that group discussion about areas of growth or concerns are just not for me. I would rather have individual conversations with a number of people rather than a group discussion. I know that I am very relational. I know that I am a very intimate person. Having a conversation with more than one or two other people at any given time is not intimate enough. I thought about why that might be, and if it could play into the fear of being judged, but I don’t think it does. While that can certainly be a concern, it’s not really what I’m feeling. I don’t know that there are necessarily negative feelings in me that arise in a group discussion, it’s just not something that I feel I get a lot out of. I tend to have the same conversation with five people, but not all at the same time, in the same room. I suppose that I need to think more on this.
In spite of the IPR seeming to not be the best forum for me, I am glad to be in a group with people who will listen to me when I need an ear, perhaps in a less formal setting.
This week I have learned a bit about myself. I have been challenged to think about the things I do, and why I do them. That is been a great experience. I have had wonderful opportunities to explore these feelings with some great friends, and have been able to enjoy doing it. How fortunate I am!
Week 3
This week was over all a very good week for me. There were moments of comfort and joy for me as well as some moments for learning.
This week, while leading worship, I felt rather comfortable in the over all process. Standing in front of a group of complete strangers has never felt so comfortable to me, and I was surprised that I wasn’t more nervous or worried. Instead, I was relaxed and happy to be doing what I was doing. While I did notice a small amount of anxiety rising over the message portion, I think it was received well. The message was certainly not anything I would ever share in a parish, as I knew I hadn’t spent enough time preparing it, but it seemed to suit well for this group of people.
Earlier in the week, I had a discussion with some of the patients that attend chapel regularly, and they had asked for more upbeat music, perhaps even some praise music, which I was happy to supply as prelude and postlude music. Adding in the confession was also helpful I think for myself and some of the patients. Having some ritual present was comforting.
I learned this week that I need more practice with thinking on my feet. There was a person in chapel that regularly interrupted. She had some great ideas that had I been able to think faster, I could have worked back into what I was doing. I am hoping that this will come with practice. There were many comments that when I played back in my head later, I saw a connection that I could have made.
I also stretched a little this week in extemporaneous prayer. I like to have my prayers well thought out ahead of time, so opening the floor to what other people want to pray for, then trying to come up with the right words on the spot is a little unnerving for me. However, with a little help from Paul, I even managed to pray for “the aliens” in what I felt was an appropriate manner. I wonder now though about being “appropriate” and what that means.
There was a moment this week that I was thinking about this incident and began to wonder about whether that was the right thing to do. Generally, I wouldn’t have allowed my children or youth to put forth such an idea, however, I wonder what the value is in honouring this person’s belief in aliens.
While reflecting on this particular event later in the week I was reminded of a paper I had written in the fall about the Nicene Creed, and how it was conceived as a political document, with just the right wording as to not offend anyone but rather to unify diverse groups of people. I began to compare that to my prayer. Is that what we had done? Prayed for something that was real to this man, but changed the wording to hold the possibility of meaning something different to someone else? I haven’t yet decided how I am feeling about that completely, but it certainly made me reflect a bit on words and clarity.
Reflecting on my learning goals, I was brought face to face with a boundary issue this week, that while it was minimal, made me realize very clearly what I was doing. After chapel a patient stopped me and had to tell me more about her thoughts and feelings. Wanting to be a good listener and a good chaplain, I stopped to listen. I was on my way to somewhere else, and while I did try to put her off, I began to feel slightly guilty for not stopping to listen, and so I did. I thought I had made it clear that I needed to be somewhere else, however, she still dragging me into her story telling. I felt a bit like a fly caught in a spider web. I offered a minute and before long, I felt entangled and unable to get out gracefully. Grateful once again for friends who managed to throw me a rope and pull me out, I realized that I need to be more clear in that boundary of saying not now. Looking at it now, I realize that this also happened during the chapel service and that this is something I will practice more intentionally.
This week I also learned a little about schizophrenia and what it looks like. I spoke with 2 separate patients who were very delusional on that day and now understand what that looks like. While there is still much more to learn about this illness for me, meeting it face to face was an interesting experience. I felt completely exhausted after these meetings, as though my mental capacity had been well tested. Just trying to follow the thought patterns was very difficult, adding to that the idea of attempting to piece something together to create a grounding was even more so.
Looking back on these visits, I realize that although this was mentally taxing on me, I did not experience any fear. I felt completely safe, and at points intrigued with their thought process and the stories they were sharing. While many of the things we hear are actually rather funny, I found that there was little funny in these stories. Both men truly believed in what they were saying, and shared with such openness and honesty, it was fascinating. I do need to remember for the next time, however, not to get so drawn in to the stories they are telling.
By far, the most exciting and rewarding event for me was meeting a woman named Marcia. I had seen her in the hallways, and around the building, but her demeanour and appearance frightened me. She appeared to be aggressive and angry. Although I was aware that at some point I would talk with her, I was not prepared to do that when the opportunity was thrust upon me. As it turns out, she is a very lovely lady. She has what I think is a very deep connection with her faith. She has told me many times this week of her confirmation and her desire to go back to St. Paul’s where this took place.
In spite of my reluctance, I have begun arrangements to accompany her to Eucharist next week at St Paul’s. I am looking forward to this, but also a little nervous about how to manage things should she become less pleasant. I am hoping that that won’t happen, and I suppose the only way to find out is to just jump in a try it out.
In looking at my learning goals this week, I think I have become a little more informed about mental illness, although I feel I still need a lot of exploring on how to engage in a pastoral care role.
I am becoming more confident each day in my role as chaplain. I am becoming more aware of themes and places that I can explore further each time I visit with someone. I am learning that being a chaplain doesn’t only mean listening to someone and helping them work through their trouble, it can also mean just spending time with them and sharing in their joys. I look forward to that each Friday afternoon in the Music group, and am looking forward to that in visiting with another patient I will be starting to read with.
I am finding that I am looking forward to the day each morning, more and more.
This week, while leading worship, I felt rather comfortable in the over all process. Standing in front of a group of complete strangers has never felt so comfortable to me, and I was surprised that I wasn’t more nervous or worried. Instead, I was relaxed and happy to be doing what I was doing. While I did notice a small amount of anxiety rising over the message portion, I think it was received well. The message was certainly not anything I would ever share in a parish, as I knew I hadn’t spent enough time preparing it, but it seemed to suit well for this group of people.
Earlier in the week, I had a discussion with some of the patients that attend chapel regularly, and they had asked for more upbeat music, perhaps even some praise music, which I was happy to supply as prelude and postlude music. Adding in the confession was also helpful I think for myself and some of the patients. Having some ritual present was comforting.
I learned this week that I need more practice with thinking on my feet. There was a person in chapel that regularly interrupted. She had some great ideas that had I been able to think faster, I could have worked back into what I was doing. I am hoping that this will come with practice. There were many comments that when I played back in my head later, I saw a connection that I could have made.
I also stretched a little this week in extemporaneous prayer. I like to have my prayers well thought out ahead of time, so opening the floor to what other people want to pray for, then trying to come up with the right words on the spot is a little unnerving for me. However, with a little help from Paul, I even managed to pray for “the aliens” in what I felt was an appropriate manner. I wonder now though about being “appropriate” and what that means.
There was a moment this week that I was thinking about this incident and began to wonder about whether that was the right thing to do. Generally, I wouldn’t have allowed my children or youth to put forth such an idea, however, I wonder what the value is in honouring this person’s belief in aliens.
While reflecting on this particular event later in the week I was reminded of a paper I had written in the fall about the Nicene Creed, and how it was conceived as a political document, with just the right wording as to not offend anyone but rather to unify diverse groups of people. I began to compare that to my prayer. Is that what we had done? Prayed for something that was real to this man, but changed the wording to hold the possibility of meaning something different to someone else? I haven’t yet decided how I am feeling about that completely, but it certainly made me reflect a bit on words and clarity.
Reflecting on my learning goals, I was brought face to face with a boundary issue this week, that while it was minimal, made me realize very clearly what I was doing. After chapel a patient stopped me and had to tell me more about her thoughts and feelings. Wanting to be a good listener and a good chaplain, I stopped to listen. I was on my way to somewhere else, and while I did try to put her off, I began to feel slightly guilty for not stopping to listen, and so I did. I thought I had made it clear that I needed to be somewhere else, however, she still dragging me into her story telling. I felt a bit like a fly caught in a spider web. I offered a minute and before long, I felt entangled and unable to get out gracefully. Grateful once again for friends who managed to throw me a rope and pull me out, I realized that I need to be more clear in that boundary of saying not now. Looking at it now, I realize that this also happened during the chapel service and that this is something I will practice more intentionally.
This week I also learned a little about schizophrenia and what it looks like. I spoke with 2 separate patients who were very delusional on that day and now understand what that looks like. While there is still much more to learn about this illness for me, meeting it face to face was an interesting experience. I felt completely exhausted after these meetings, as though my mental capacity had been well tested. Just trying to follow the thought patterns was very difficult, adding to that the idea of attempting to piece something together to create a grounding was even more so.
Looking back on these visits, I realize that although this was mentally taxing on me, I did not experience any fear. I felt completely safe, and at points intrigued with their thought process and the stories they were sharing. While many of the things we hear are actually rather funny, I found that there was little funny in these stories. Both men truly believed in what they were saying, and shared with such openness and honesty, it was fascinating. I do need to remember for the next time, however, not to get so drawn in to the stories they are telling.
By far, the most exciting and rewarding event for me was meeting a woman named Marcia. I had seen her in the hallways, and around the building, but her demeanour and appearance frightened me. She appeared to be aggressive and angry. Although I was aware that at some point I would talk with her, I was not prepared to do that when the opportunity was thrust upon me. As it turns out, she is a very lovely lady. She has what I think is a very deep connection with her faith. She has told me many times this week of her confirmation and her desire to go back to St. Paul’s where this took place.
In spite of my reluctance, I have begun arrangements to accompany her to Eucharist next week at St Paul’s. I am looking forward to this, but also a little nervous about how to manage things should she become less pleasant. I am hoping that that won’t happen, and I suppose the only way to find out is to just jump in a try it out.
In looking at my learning goals this week, I think I have become a little more informed about mental illness, although I feel I still need a lot of exploring on how to engage in a pastoral care role.
I am becoming more confident each day in my role as chaplain. I am becoming more aware of themes and places that I can explore further each time I visit with someone. I am learning that being a chaplain doesn’t only mean listening to someone and helping them work through their trouble, it can also mean just spending time with them and sharing in their joys. I look forward to that each Friday afternoon in the Music group, and am looking forward to that in visiting with another patient I will be starting to read with.
I am finding that I am looking forward to the day each morning, more and more.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Week 2
This week has been overall a good week. There were two instances that stand out this week as good learning experiences. They were positive experiences for the most part, and I’m beginning to feel more confident in my role.
I will recount them in two separate sections as two separate incidents, and then come back to reflect on how they tie together.
The first event was my first real patient visit that happened this week. To start, my intention on this particular journey to the ward was not to visit with any patient, much less someone specific, but God seemed to have other plans. Since I had not been on this ward, except for the 45 minute morning medical conference, I had decided that with 35 min before needing to return to the group, I would wander up to this ward and introduce myself to the staff.
Upon arriving, I was cheerfully greeted by a group of people playing bridge. I introduced myself to the smiling faces, and found them to be very friendly and open. One of the ladies at the table was excited about the opportunity to talk. She asked to move to a more private location, and after quickly introducing myself to another staff member and informing them of where we were headed, I followed her to a quiet room.
Once inside, we sat opposite each other and I listened while she told me about what her life has been like for the last 50 years or so. I noticed that for a 70 year old woman, who had been the caregiver for just about all her life, she looked fantastic. While she was sharing her story, she was lively and animated, and engaging. It was at this time the social worker stopped in. She agreed to return at 2:30 which worked well for me because it was then that I knew I needed to return to the group as well. This patient continued to share but when she came to the events of the past week, her demeanour changed. She became weepy and emotional. This was where I had been afraid to go with someone else. I sat, listened, and internally checked in with myself and how I was doing. I was aware of people walking outside the window. I could see them in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t lose focus on the patient. I knew that I wanted to reach across the table and take her hand to comfort her, but chose to sit with my hands in my lap not becoming attached to this person. I was able to engage, and listen and journey through her story without being pulled in. I remained tear-free. This was a great accomplishment for me. As she came back into a positive frame of mind, the social worker re-appeared and I said goodbye, and quickly moved back to the group time of the afternoon.
Over all, I was feeling good about this visit, and how I engaged in it.
The second experience this week, happened at Parkwood, when we watched the movie Wit. The movie was very interesting, however, I was surprised by it. It had been recommended by a classmate as a real tear jerker of a movie, and I found that with 20 minutes remaining the movie, my eyes were dry, and I was feeling little emotion at all. I know that to be true as I looked at my watch to see how much longer I would have to sit still. It wasn’t much more than 5 minutes after that, when something triggered and major emotional response. I could not pin point what it was the triggered it. I had been sitting through the entire movie with a friend sitting next to me who cried through the entire thing, without feeling anything. It wasn’t until the patient’s mentor arrived and crawled into bed with her that the flood gates opened.
Looking at this puzzling outburst of emotion, I have identified a few things in me that may have caused this. I think it may surround guilt and perhaps some grief. Guilt that perhaps is unfounded, but still present. I found myself feeling slightly guilty that I had really felt little concern for this woman personally, although feeling some emotion surrounding her treatment as a human. This person that was her mentor, that she had long forgotten about and appeared to have moved out of relationship with, was the only person who came to her in her final hours. I felt a little ashamed that I was not more compassionate, if one can feel that for a movie character.
I also became aware of a story from my own life. When my grandfather passed away, I wasn’t there. I had said my good bye weeks earlier, and chose not to be in town when I knew he was nearing the end of his life. My daughter however, was there, and watching this mentor curl up in the bed with the patient in her final hours, reminded me of how my daughter had curled up with my grandfather. She was grateful for that gift, not only to her, but from her.
This is where the two stories intersect. The woman that I had met with the day before, told me of her mother’s death and how she was able to curl up with her and be there when her mother had passed. My comment was how that was a wonderful gift, to her and her mother. The story of my daughter bubbled up a bit in that meeting, but I was able to control it when I needed to focus on someone else. I was not so successful when there was not another live person in front of me that I needed to focus on. I suppose in the end, the reason for the emotion at the movie, is I allowed myself to focus on me, and my story.
To look at my learning, I’m not sure how any of this relates to my learning goals, except that I have been made aware of the fact that I can focus on someone else. I can walk with them through some darkness, where our stories rub shoulders a little, without a meltdown. I can focus outside of me when it is required.
I'm almost sad to think that there are only 10 weeks left!
I will recount them in two separate sections as two separate incidents, and then come back to reflect on how they tie together.
The first event was my first real patient visit that happened this week. To start, my intention on this particular journey to the ward was not to visit with any patient, much less someone specific, but God seemed to have other plans. Since I had not been on this ward, except for the 45 minute morning medical conference, I had decided that with 35 min before needing to return to the group, I would wander up to this ward and introduce myself to the staff.
Upon arriving, I was cheerfully greeted by a group of people playing bridge. I introduced myself to the smiling faces, and found them to be very friendly and open. One of the ladies at the table was excited about the opportunity to talk. She asked to move to a more private location, and after quickly introducing myself to another staff member and informing them of where we were headed, I followed her to a quiet room.
Once inside, we sat opposite each other and I listened while she told me about what her life has been like for the last 50 years or so. I noticed that for a 70 year old woman, who had been the caregiver for just about all her life, she looked fantastic. While she was sharing her story, she was lively and animated, and engaging. It was at this time the social worker stopped in. She agreed to return at 2:30 which worked well for me because it was then that I knew I needed to return to the group as well. This patient continued to share but when she came to the events of the past week, her demeanour changed. She became weepy and emotional. This was where I had been afraid to go with someone else. I sat, listened, and internally checked in with myself and how I was doing. I was aware of people walking outside the window. I could see them in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t lose focus on the patient. I knew that I wanted to reach across the table and take her hand to comfort her, but chose to sit with my hands in my lap not becoming attached to this person. I was able to engage, and listen and journey through her story without being pulled in. I remained tear-free. This was a great accomplishment for me. As she came back into a positive frame of mind, the social worker re-appeared and I said goodbye, and quickly moved back to the group time of the afternoon.
Over all, I was feeling good about this visit, and how I engaged in it.
The second experience this week, happened at Parkwood, when we watched the movie Wit. The movie was very interesting, however, I was surprised by it. It had been recommended by a classmate as a real tear jerker of a movie, and I found that with 20 minutes remaining the movie, my eyes were dry, and I was feeling little emotion at all. I know that to be true as I looked at my watch to see how much longer I would have to sit still. It wasn’t much more than 5 minutes after that, when something triggered and major emotional response. I could not pin point what it was the triggered it. I had been sitting through the entire movie with a friend sitting next to me who cried through the entire thing, without feeling anything. It wasn’t until the patient’s mentor arrived and crawled into bed with her that the flood gates opened.
Looking at this puzzling outburst of emotion, I have identified a few things in me that may have caused this. I think it may surround guilt and perhaps some grief. Guilt that perhaps is unfounded, but still present. I found myself feeling slightly guilty that I had really felt little concern for this woman personally, although feeling some emotion surrounding her treatment as a human. This person that was her mentor, that she had long forgotten about and appeared to have moved out of relationship with, was the only person who came to her in her final hours. I felt a little ashamed that I was not more compassionate, if one can feel that for a movie character.
I also became aware of a story from my own life. When my grandfather passed away, I wasn’t there. I had said my good bye weeks earlier, and chose not to be in town when I knew he was nearing the end of his life. My daughter however, was there, and watching this mentor curl up in the bed with the patient in her final hours, reminded me of how my daughter had curled up with my grandfather. She was grateful for that gift, not only to her, but from her.
This is where the two stories intersect. The woman that I had met with the day before, told me of her mother’s death and how she was able to curl up with her and be there when her mother had passed. My comment was how that was a wonderful gift, to her and her mother. The story of my daughter bubbled up a bit in that meeting, but I was able to control it when I needed to focus on someone else. I was not so successful when there was not another live person in front of me that I needed to focus on. I suppose in the end, the reason for the emotion at the movie, is I allowed myself to focus on me, and my story.
To look at my learning, I’m not sure how any of this relates to my learning goals, except that I have been made aware of the fact that I can focus on someone else. I can walk with them through some darkness, where our stories rub shoulders a little, without a meltdown. I can focus outside of me when it is required.
I'm almost sad to think that there are only 10 weeks left!
Friday, May 7, 2010
This week has been an emotionally and physically demanding week for me on many fronts. To begin with, the commute into and home from London each day has been tiring. The long drive, not being a morning person, and having to be up at 5am (which is an ungodly hour of the day in my world) has been a great challenge. My physical self is exhausted.
The anxiety I have been feeling regarding the course hasn’t helped much. Coming out of a negative experience of hospital chaplaincy from Field Ed this year coupled with working in a Mental Hospital, of which I know nothing, has been a frightening venture. I have found that my emotional self is also exhausted.
I have been feeling very taxed this week. Slightly guilty for not being home with my children, doing the domestic things I have always done, slightly over extended with this plus my job, and incredibly overwhelmed by the number of papers that were required this week.
My biggest hurdle, however, was simply the experience of starting something new and unfamiliar. Arriving and being presented with keys to the fire alarm and washrooms was surprising. I not only felt that I was in an unfamiliar place, I felt like I was in a very different world. I’m not sure what I had expected, but what I felt was a swelling amount of terror. I would like to attribute that to some bad movies, and my imagination, but realistically, I think I can also add to that list, ignorance.
As the day progressed, I wondered a bit at my door analogy. When during morning devotions the chaplain that was leading asked what kind of door we had, my answer was a prison door. I wasn’t sure why that was, but after thinking on it for a number of hours, I realized where that had come from. I was feeling trapped. I am in a process that is out of my control, and that I don’t fully understand. I know that God is asking me to go places and do things I never imagined I would, but I’m not yet sure where the road will lead. I was and am still uncomfortable in the process. I was uncomfortable with the set of keys. I was feeling trapped in a situation that I wasn’t sure I could make sense of.
Going to the ward was likely my breaking point for the day. The realization that people were locked in and that I would be locking myself in with them was not comforting, partially because I didn’t know what I was walking into, what I would see, or experience. Once through the hallway and into the common room of the ward, I felt a little more relaxed. Not much, but enough that I realized that I had been holding my breath.
I went home stressed, and drained and immediately went to bed. To add to my guilt, my son came home from Cubs and brought me a gift, and I was too tired to notice and told him to just put it on the night stand. The morning sun revealed a pot of flowers he had made, and the guilt piled on.
Morning number 2 had me crying most of the way to London, partially because of the flowers, but more for the patients of the hospital. My feeling was that these people were in prison. Whether it was a prison in their lives or minds, or the physical prison of being locked on a ward, the reality for me was that these people were in a prison, and they had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this.
This, I think, was a huge change in my mindset. In looking for CPE units, I initially was looking for a prison setting. This is a different type of prison. These people are here, not because of something they have done, but they are prisoners none the less.
By the end of day 2, I continued to be physically exhausted, and emotionally drained, but I slept much better and found I was ready to tackle day 3.
I imagine that there will be great challenges ahead. I imagine that there will continue to be moments of stress and anxiety for me as I learn and grow, but I find that the approach to teaching to date, has been gentle and helpful and useful. I’m finding that the more I learn, about the illnesses, about the people, about the hospital, the less distressed I am, the more I am ready to take on the challenges that are ahead.
So, where is God in this? Turns out, I found him in a familiar place for me! In a casual conversation that had nothing to do with my placement, someone was telling me about a Bible study she had just attended. I asked what they were studying, and she told me that they were looking at Psalm 69 and talking about stress. I was certainly stressed, so I looked up Psalm 69 and read it when I woke up the next morning, and found that it was a lament of David. That was not so surprising but was a great reminder that David has been a great source of inspiration and encouragement for me throughout the last number of years as I have been discerning God’s call in my life. This was one more moment, where God has spoken to me through David. I was reminded that no matter where we go, no matter how bad we think things are, no matter how scared we may be, God is always there. He will not send me where He is not, and trusting in that I can move forward.
The LORD hears the needy
and does not despise his captive people.
Psalm 69:33
The anxiety I have been feeling regarding the course hasn’t helped much. Coming out of a negative experience of hospital chaplaincy from Field Ed this year coupled with working in a Mental Hospital, of which I know nothing, has been a frightening venture. I have found that my emotional self is also exhausted.
I have been feeling very taxed this week. Slightly guilty for not being home with my children, doing the domestic things I have always done, slightly over extended with this plus my job, and incredibly overwhelmed by the number of papers that were required this week.
My biggest hurdle, however, was simply the experience of starting something new and unfamiliar. Arriving and being presented with keys to the fire alarm and washrooms was surprising. I not only felt that I was in an unfamiliar place, I felt like I was in a very different world. I’m not sure what I had expected, but what I felt was a swelling amount of terror. I would like to attribute that to some bad movies, and my imagination, but realistically, I think I can also add to that list, ignorance.
As the day progressed, I wondered a bit at my door analogy. When during morning devotions the chaplain that was leading asked what kind of door we had, my answer was a prison door. I wasn’t sure why that was, but after thinking on it for a number of hours, I realized where that had come from. I was feeling trapped. I am in a process that is out of my control, and that I don’t fully understand. I know that God is asking me to go places and do things I never imagined I would, but I’m not yet sure where the road will lead. I was and am still uncomfortable in the process. I was uncomfortable with the set of keys. I was feeling trapped in a situation that I wasn’t sure I could make sense of.
Going to the ward was likely my breaking point for the day. The realization that people were locked in and that I would be locking myself in with them was not comforting, partially because I didn’t know what I was walking into, what I would see, or experience. Once through the hallway and into the common room of the ward, I felt a little more relaxed. Not much, but enough that I realized that I had been holding my breath.
I went home stressed, and drained and immediately went to bed. To add to my guilt, my son came home from Cubs and brought me a gift, and I was too tired to notice and told him to just put it on the night stand. The morning sun revealed a pot of flowers he had made, and the guilt piled on.
Morning number 2 had me crying most of the way to London, partially because of the flowers, but more for the patients of the hospital. My feeling was that these people were in prison. Whether it was a prison in their lives or minds, or the physical prison of being locked on a ward, the reality for me was that these people were in a prison, and they had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this.
This, I think, was a huge change in my mindset. In looking for CPE units, I initially was looking for a prison setting. This is a different type of prison. These people are here, not because of something they have done, but they are prisoners none the less.
By the end of day 2, I continued to be physically exhausted, and emotionally drained, but I slept much better and found I was ready to tackle day 3.
I imagine that there will be great challenges ahead. I imagine that there will continue to be moments of stress and anxiety for me as I learn and grow, but I find that the approach to teaching to date, has been gentle and helpful and useful. I’m finding that the more I learn, about the illnesses, about the people, about the hospital, the less distressed I am, the more I am ready to take on the challenges that are ahead.
So, where is God in this? Turns out, I found him in a familiar place for me! In a casual conversation that had nothing to do with my placement, someone was telling me about a Bible study she had just attended. I asked what they were studying, and she told me that they were looking at Psalm 69 and talking about stress. I was certainly stressed, so I looked up Psalm 69 and read it when I woke up the next morning, and found that it was a lament of David. That was not so surprising but was a great reminder that David has been a great source of inspiration and encouragement for me throughout the last number of years as I have been discerning God’s call in my life. This was one more moment, where God has spoken to me through David. I was reminded that no matter where we go, no matter how bad we think things are, no matter how scared we may be, God is always there. He will not send me where He is not, and trusting in that I can move forward.
The LORD hears the needy
and does not despise his captive people.
Psalm 69:33
The next chapter
I'm back, sort of. It seems that this past year has flown by, but has also been so busy that I have not had time and/or energy to actually blog.
SO to update you on what's gone on in the last 8 months - the short version is, I did attend Huron College. I studied hard, and passed with great grades (at least according to me!!)
The next chapter for me is a 12 week Clinical Pastoral Education program. I have been assigned to do this at the London Regional Mental Health Hospital.
As it turns out, I have to write a reflection paper each week about what I'm learning and what is going on with me with that placement, so I thought I would share with you the content of those reflections - of course editing anything needing to be removed for confidentiality purposes. So... for the next 12 weeks, you can see an update of the musings and events of my 12 week program! Enjoy!
SO to update you on what's gone on in the last 8 months - the short version is, I did attend Huron College. I studied hard, and passed with great grades (at least according to me!!)
The next chapter for me is a 12 week Clinical Pastoral Education program. I have been assigned to do this at the London Regional Mental Health Hospital.
As it turns out, I have to write a reflection paper each week about what I'm learning and what is going on with me with that placement, so I thought I would share with you the content of those reflections - of course editing anything needing to be removed for confidentiality purposes. So... for the next 12 weeks, you can see an update of the musings and events of my 12 week program! Enjoy!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve has always been my absolute favorite day of the year. It has always held magic for me from the time I was a little girl, and dreamed of what Santa would bring, right up until now.
The strange part of the magic for me, though, wasn't always Santa. Thinking back on my childhood, and remembering what it was about that night that holds so much magic, there are two things that immediately come to mind, neither of the them are Santa or presents.
The first thing that holds a very special place in my heart on Christmas Eve is the candle-lit singing of Silent Night. As a child growing up in a Lutheran church where many of the members still spoke German, it was a magical time at the end of the service when the lights went down, the candles were lit, and the congregation began to sing, in German. Although I never learned much of the language other than the words to O Tannunbaum one year for the Christmas pagent, there is something about those moments on Christmas Eve, in the dark that fill me with wonder and joy. In our big church, filled to overflowing, with people crammed in like sardines there was always a stillness and a silence when it came time to light the candles for this particular song. To this day, I am moved to tears and can't sing it.
The second thing that is always magical for me on that very special night is the Christmas snow. It seems that there are very few years that it doesn't snow on Christmas Eve, and that snow is always different some how. It's still and silent, and beautiful, more so than at any other time.
This year, there is a new memory for me. This year, I had the opportunity to serve during the Christmas Eve service. What a joy and a priviledge to do that! It was only the third time I have ever worn an alb, and it was such a thrill! I was able to be part of the processional, carrying the Gospel book, and was able to assist in other ways during the service. This all may seem a little mundane to those who have done it before, but to have Christmas Eve be the very first time you serve - WOW!
Standing in front of the congregation was an amazing experience. It left me wanting to do more, not only holding a book, or turning pages, or helping to set the communion table, but to be more of a part it all. I felt at home and comfortable, once I stopped shaking, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the service.
I have to admit, I was terribly nervous, I thought everyone could hear my knees banging together, and was terrified I would drop my candle, but it went well, and at the end, I felt so grateful to have been included, I felt so energized and wound up, I didn't sleep for many hours, not in anticipation of Santa and gifts, but with the gift that I had been already given. I was given an opportunity to 'try it out'. A small chance to see what my future Christmas Eves would look like. I thought that I would be unsure of taking this on, of turning in my family time for gowns, inscense, candles and a church full of strangers, but standing at the front, looking at all those strangers, all of a sudden, they weren't really strangers, they were all members of the family of Christ. They were my family. I won't be trading family time at all. I will be spending time with a bigger family than I could have imagined.
I am looking forward to the many oppportunities that are ahead this year and in the coming years to serve God, and His people.
The strange part of the magic for me, though, wasn't always Santa. Thinking back on my childhood, and remembering what it was about that night that holds so much magic, there are two things that immediately come to mind, neither of the them are Santa or presents.
The first thing that holds a very special place in my heart on Christmas Eve is the candle-lit singing of Silent Night. As a child growing up in a Lutheran church where many of the members still spoke German, it was a magical time at the end of the service when the lights went down, the candles were lit, and the congregation began to sing, in German. Although I never learned much of the language other than the words to O Tannunbaum one year for the Christmas pagent, there is something about those moments on Christmas Eve, in the dark that fill me with wonder and joy. In our big church, filled to overflowing, with people crammed in like sardines there was always a stillness and a silence when it came time to light the candles for this particular song. To this day, I am moved to tears and can't sing it.
The second thing that is always magical for me on that very special night is the Christmas snow. It seems that there are very few years that it doesn't snow on Christmas Eve, and that snow is always different some how. It's still and silent, and beautiful, more so than at any other time.
This year, there is a new memory for me. This year, I had the opportunity to serve during the Christmas Eve service. What a joy and a priviledge to do that! It was only the third time I have ever worn an alb, and it was such a thrill! I was able to be part of the processional, carrying the Gospel book, and was able to assist in other ways during the service. This all may seem a little mundane to those who have done it before, but to have Christmas Eve be the very first time you serve - WOW!
Standing in front of the congregation was an amazing experience. It left me wanting to do more, not only holding a book, or turning pages, or helping to set the communion table, but to be more of a part it all. I felt at home and comfortable, once I stopped shaking, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the service.
I have to admit, I was terribly nervous, I thought everyone could hear my knees banging together, and was terrified I would drop my candle, but it went well, and at the end, I felt so grateful to have been included, I felt so energized and wound up, I didn't sleep for many hours, not in anticipation of Santa and gifts, but with the gift that I had been already given. I was given an opportunity to 'try it out'. A small chance to see what my future Christmas Eves would look like. I thought that I would be unsure of taking this on, of turning in my family time for gowns, inscense, candles and a church full of strangers, but standing at the front, looking at all those strangers, all of a sudden, they weren't really strangers, they were all members of the family of Christ. They were my family. I won't be trading family time at all. I will be spending time with a bigger family than I could have imagined.
I am looking forward to the many oppportunities that are ahead this year and in the coming years to serve God, and His people.
Christmas Holidays!?
Well folks, it's been many weeks (as I have recently been reminded!) since I last posted something. To start this posting then, I appologize for the lapse in my updates. It is with good reason and great results however. Since it's been a while, this posting will be rather lengthy, so grab a cup of something and get comfy!
With November usually comes snow flurries but this November,in my life, came a flurry of a different sort - papers. After making it through to Thanksgiving, my focus shifted to making it through to Christmas. I can report that we all survived the pre-Christmas hussle and exam period with our health if missing a little sanity.
I spent a good lot of November researching early Celtic Christianity and fighting to come up with a decent thesis that didn't appear to be somthing from my kids grade 5 public speaking assignment. Settling on this topic was easy, trying to learn about it, and narrow the focus to a small enough area was a whole other story!
I moved from a focus of a 6 week block of time to a one day at a time approach. Every morning I would get up, get the kids organized for the day, and say to myself.. 'one day closer to holidays'. That worked for a while, but then even that stressed me out as I realized that I was one day closer to Christmas and I hadn't even thought about preparing for that!
The end of November brings on Mike's crazy busy season, so balancing life at home, school assignments, holiday parties, and sleep became a very delicate juggling act! Fortunately for me, Mike (being the great guy he is) rarely complained or resented (at least outwardly) my rants and foot stamping about how much work I had, and how little time there was to prepare for the holidays. I began to feel like a terrible parent, not doing the usual stuff with the kids, like baking, tree trimming and general holiday fun. I also found that I became slightly grumpy at the fact that I was unable to attend the holiday social events because I had so much to do for school, there was no time for merriment, and when there was time in my schedule, Mike's didn't permit it.
All that said, we did make it through finals, and papers, and tear out, and we're still together and both alive, so I take that to be a testament to the stability of our relationship. (I think I am WAY more blessed that he - lucky me!)
The holidays came, and the kids were happy and we did manage to spend time together for 4 whole days (after which I became very anxious to get back to school!)
There were 2 highlights for this Christmas season for me, other than the usual time with my family and those 2 things were Christmas Eve, and finding my grades. I will post a separate blog about Christmas Eve later, but in this one, I want to take the opportunity to talk about my grades.
All the time spent studying and reseaching, and pounding my head on the keyboard paid off. I am still awaiting 1 final mark, but the other 4 were great - at least by my standards.
My lowest mark was a miracle in and of itself. Biblical Studies was a great challenge. I often felt that I had less knowledge on the background stuff than the other students. I learned that many of them knew what they did from other classes they had taken. So I was a little behind in the terminology and such so that showed in my exams. Neither one of them were anything to write home about. I really counted on my final paper being well done and pulling up my mark. It was, and it did and I finished the class with a respectable 75%.
The next challenge was History. I have never been a lover of history, however, Dr. Acres is one of those profs who are witty and engaging. He was able to take the dates and places out of the boring average history and replace them with events and people and turned history into a more social experience that I rather enjoyed. Final mark in History - 80%!
Field Education was the least challenging in the way of academics, however, it did prove to have it's own type of challenge - namely getting something out of the eewy geewy reflective stuff. Turns out that honesty an being aware of what you are feeling and why is a great asset in this class and I finished with an 84%.
Now I know that you are all dying to know about Hebrew. I have to tell you honestly I am so thrilled that I did choose it. It was interesting, and Prof. Hamilton was a fantastic instructor. He was great at helping me to excel in the way that I learn and I ended up very proudly with an 83%.
All in all, great marks for Christmas turned out to be a great gift!
I am looking forward to Tuesday when it all starts up again and I get another chance to prove that with God, all things are possible!
With November usually comes snow flurries but this November,in my life, came a flurry of a different sort - papers. After making it through to Thanksgiving, my focus shifted to making it through to Christmas. I can report that we all survived the pre-Christmas hussle and exam period with our health if missing a little sanity.
I spent a good lot of November researching early Celtic Christianity and fighting to come up with a decent thesis that didn't appear to be somthing from my kids grade 5 public speaking assignment. Settling on this topic was easy, trying to learn about it, and narrow the focus to a small enough area was a whole other story!
I moved from a focus of a 6 week block of time to a one day at a time approach. Every morning I would get up, get the kids organized for the day, and say to myself.. 'one day closer to holidays'. That worked for a while, but then even that stressed me out as I realized that I was one day closer to Christmas and I hadn't even thought about preparing for that!
The end of November brings on Mike's crazy busy season, so balancing life at home, school assignments, holiday parties, and sleep became a very delicate juggling act! Fortunately for me, Mike (being the great guy he is) rarely complained or resented (at least outwardly) my rants and foot stamping about how much work I had, and how little time there was to prepare for the holidays. I began to feel like a terrible parent, not doing the usual stuff with the kids, like baking, tree trimming and general holiday fun. I also found that I became slightly grumpy at the fact that I was unable to attend the holiday social events because I had so much to do for school, there was no time for merriment, and when there was time in my schedule, Mike's didn't permit it.
All that said, we did make it through finals, and papers, and tear out, and we're still together and both alive, so I take that to be a testament to the stability of our relationship. (I think I am WAY more blessed that he - lucky me!)
The holidays came, and the kids were happy and we did manage to spend time together for 4 whole days (after which I became very anxious to get back to school!)
There were 2 highlights for this Christmas season for me, other than the usual time with my family and those 2 things were Christmas Eve, and finding my grades. I will post a separate blog about Christmas Eve later, but in this one, I want to take the opportunity to talk about my grades.
All the time spent studying and reseaching, and pounding my head on the keyboard paid off. I am still awaiting 1 final mark, but the other 4 were great - at least by my standards.
My lowest mark was a miracle in and of itself. Biblical Studies was a great challenge. I often felt that I had less knowledge on the background stuff than the other students. I learned that many of them knew what they did from other classes they had taken. So I was a little behind in the terminology and such so that showed in my exams. Neither one of them were anything to write home about. I really counted on my final paper being well done and pulling up my mark. It was, and it did and I finished the class with a respectable 75%.
The next challenge was History. I have never been a lover of history, however, Dr. Acres is one of those profs who are witty and engaging. He was able to take the dates and places out of the boring average history and replace them with events and people and turned history into a more social experience that I rather enjoyed. Final mark in History - 80%!
Field Education was the least challenging in the way of academics, however, it did prove to have it's own type of challenge - namely getting something out of the eewy geewy reflective stuff. Turns out that honesty an being aware of what you are feeling and why is a great asset in this class and I finished with an 84%.
Now I know that you are all dying to know about Hebrew. I have to tell you honestly I am so thrilled that I did choose it. It was interesting, and Prof. Hamilton was a fantastic instructor. He was great at helping me to excel in the way that I learn and I ended up very proudly with an 83%.
All in all, great marks for Christmas turned out to be a great gift!
I am looking forward to Tuesday when it all starts up again and I get another chance to prove that with God, all things are possible!
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