It is early February, the beginning of another long semester, and I am in the theology lounge with a group of classmates, it's break time and we've gone in search of caffine, when my blackberry buzzes. I pull it out, and notice there is an annoucement from the Bishop's office. These come frequently enough, so I'm scrolling through speed reading the jist of the text, when I see my name. At which point I utter an audible 'huh?' and immediately scroll back to the beginning to read:
As we in Huron Diocese seek to minister to, with and alongside our young people in the most effective way possible, it is essential that we are able as a body to offer as part of our ministry, sensitive pastoral care and support, both to our young people and to those who minister to them.
I write to you today to invite you to take up the role of diocesan chaplain to youth. This voluntary appointment if accepted would be for a two year term, and you would be ministering alongside a second such chaplain. Sharla, I feel convinced that you would bring to such a ministry the dedication and the pastoral skills that are needed.
In wishing to give you the opportunity to prayerfully consider such an appointment, in addition to your studies and parish responsibilities, you will find below a copy of the ministry description for the chaplains to youth . I look forward to your response +Bob
It is at this point, the repeated exclaimations of 'oh!' have escalated from a whisper to a very audible level. By this time, I had melted into the couch, and my classmates were visibly worried as I turned shades of pale.
Unable to actaully express what had just happened, I handed over my blackberry to one of them and they read aloud my invitation. This was met with much elation and congratulations from my classmates.
By this time, it was time to head back to class, and all I was able to do, was indicate that I was headed to the chaplains office, not class. I would try to be back in time to pick up my books.
I walked somewhat in a daze to the chaplains office, where Father Bill greeted me with his usual jovial salutations, and asked what was up as I sank into the chair across from his desk. Fortunately, the usual gaggle of students who reside in his office were gone, and I handed over the blackberry. Upon reading the message, he to congratulated me and expressed his pleasure, quickly wondering why I was't more excited.
After identifying just how terrifying this was to me, I was encouraged to understand that there are people who are seeing great potential in me, and it is high time I see it in myself. It is time for me to step up and take on the role that God has provided for me and is asking me to take. I am totally qualified, and competent in this.
Not long after this realization, and of course the requist tears that tend to follow everything that touches my heart, the Dean wanders into the office. After some brief conversation, he realizes that he has walked in on something and appologizes and begins to back out of the office. Assuring him it is quite alright, and that I am fine, better than fine, Father Bill steps in to introduce me as the new Youth Chaplain. What a moment!
The only thing that topped that has been the people who I didn't know knew about this going out of their way to congratulate me and to offer their support and encouragement!
God is indeed good, and I am continuing to take steps down the path he has laid out!
Monday, April 4, 2011
10 LONG months
Hello again everyone! I have just been reminded that it has been 10 months since I last posted anything here. Well, that it has! It's amazing how fast the time flys when you're running like a mad woman. The last 10 months have indeed been insanely long. School, as it turns out sucked more of my time than I had anticipated, even when I piled all my classes into 2 days to avoid the expensive commute!
The lack of postings though, don't mean that I haven't been basking in God's light though. It has been an amazing 10 months.
I suppose the high-lights could be sumed up in 2 major events: 1. An appointement from the Bishop, 2. ALSOC.
I suppose I should blog each of those events separately, as they are both rather large. Watch for those shortly!
Keep walking along the path!
The lack of postings though, don't mean that I haven't been basking in God's light though. It has been an amazing 10 months.
I suppose the high-lights could be sumed up in 2 major events: 1. An appointement from the Bishop, 2. ALSOC.
I suppose I should blog each of those events separately, as they are both rather large. Watch for those shortly!
Keep walking along the path!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Week 5
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
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, 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!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A huge growing week!
So last week seemed like it went on for a year. It's now Sunday, the week is fresh and new, and I've had a day to process all I've learned in the last5 days.
Grab yourself a coffee, and a snack and curl up,this one is going to be a long one - fair warning!
So Monday started a little earlier than usual. Instead of heading to my office to get my week organized and things in place for the rest of the week, I headed to the local legion. I arrived knowing no one. The reason? I was going to be an adult facilitator for "Challenge Day". If you've not heard of this, check it out at www.challengeday.org This is one of the most amazing things to experience! If you ever have the opportunity to attend - GO!
Anyway, so I arrive, knowing no one, and as the info session begins, I become more and more skeptical. The 2 men leading this, Jon and Vinny, are from California. I wasn't confident in their having anything in common with rural Ontario, but stayed open-minded and hoped for something amazing.
We were asked to form a 'soul train' line to greet the grade 10 high school students as they entered. I didn't want to admit I had no clue what 'soul train' was, so I followed the pack.
The look on the students faces when the doors opened, and they saw a bunch of adults dancing and acting particularly strange was priceless.
I can't go into detail about what went on because of confidentiality, but what I can share is this.
I learned that there is more hurt and pain in our rural grade 10 class than I ever dreamed of.
I learned that most of these kids have seen more in their 15 years than I have in my 30+.
I learned that my life is a walk in the park in comparison to some.
I learned that tears of compassion are a virtue and not something to be ashamed of.
I was amazed by these students, how they confessed wrongdoing (apologized), how they asked for forgivness (I want to stop this), and how they reconciled (agreement and hugs the currency of the day).
Although there was not one mention of God, or religion all day, He was there. He was there in the tatoos on Vinny's arm of the virgin Mary, and the word "blessed". He was there in the reciting of the Golden Rule, even if they had no idea what they were saying. He was there in the tears of grief and in the tears of compassion. God was present in every hug, every embrace, every high five. What a day!
That day left me on a high for the next 2 days.
Wednesday was "Feild Ed" class. The week prior to this we took a feild trip to the funeral home. Class this week was discussion about funerals. What we thought of the things said at the home, what we thought about funerals for ourselves, and an attempted debate between the ideas of burial and cremation. This was not amazing in itself, but what followed that evening was extraordinary.
Wednesday night, I was invited to attend a re-internment process. Somewhat reluctantly, yet with a strange sort of excitement I decided to go.
Thursday was the day I was to attend this, and I made my way out to the cemetary. This particular cemetary was sitting on a hill above a river. The river was erroding the hillside, and a number of plots needed to be re-located. The process of retrieving the bodies of those burried there was left to the experts. I was there to observe not only the exhumation of the bodies, but also to observe the way one would perform a re-internment ceremony.
I watched with facinaton, as the staff expertly dug to a safe point with a backhoe, then jumped in with shovels to extract remants of a disintegrated coffin, and the bones of the deceased. I won't go into any more detail than that here, so you can feel safe to keep reading.
Once all of the pieces were retrieved, we moved to re- bury him in another location.
I have to tell you, the most amazing Holy Spirit moment was when the wind picked up, and the leaves started to fall. It was like it was snowing leaves, and apparently something similar had happened earlier when they had done other plots.
I was, at first, afraid of what I would experience. I didn't feel that I handled death well, nor was I prepared for what I was about to see or experience.
Not only did I manage to stay the afternoon tear-free, I found I enjoyed it. I actually enjoyed being a part of this experience and the peace I was filled with in being there.
I can hardly wait to go back this week to finish it off!
Friday was U2harist. Stepping out of my comfort zone to dance through the Cathedral with a group of youth I didn't know, was amazing! Add to that, one of my youth offered to do a reading. I wasn't sure of her ability, but she did great. Amazing what happens when you let go of control and allow the Holy Spirit to take over!
This week coming is a reading week for me. I was looking forward to resting a bit, unil I realized I have 3 papers, a group project and an exam due when I return! Instead of resting this week, I will be spending a lot of time with my nose in the books. Oh well, I have learned so much in 6 weeks, who knows what will happen this week!
Grab yourself a coffee, and a snack and curl up,this one is going to be a long one - fair warning!
So Monday started a little earlier than usual. Instead of heading to my office to get my week organized and things in place for the rest of the week, I headed to the local legion. I arrived knowing no one. The reason? I was going to be an adult facilitator for "Challenge Day". If you've not heard of this, check it out at www.challengeday.org This is one of the most amazing things to experience! If you ever have the opportunity to attend - GO!
Anyway, so I arrive, knowing no one, and as the info session begins, I become more and more skeptical. The 2 men leading this, Jon and Vinny, are from California. I wasn't confident in their having anything in common with rural Ontario, but stayed open-minded and hoped for something amazing.
We were asked to form a 'soul train' line to greet the grade 10 high school students as they entered. I didn't want to admit I had no clue what 'soul train' was, so I followed the pack.
The look on the students faces when the doors opened, and they saw a bunch of adults dancing and acting particularly strange was priceless.
I can't go into detail about what went on because of confidentiality, but what I can share is this.
I learned that there is more hurt and pain in our rural grade 10 class than I ever dreamed of.
I learned that most of these kids have seen more in their 15 years than I have in my 30+.
I learned that my life is a walk in the park in comparison to some.
I learned that tears of compassion are a virtue and not something to be ashamed of.
I was amazed by these students, how they confessed wrongdoing (apologized), how they asked for forgivness (I want to stop this), and how they reconciled (agreement and hugs the currency of the day).
Although there was not one mention of God, or religion all day, He was there. He was there in the tatoos on Vinny's arm of the virgin Mary, and the word "blessed". He was there in the reciting of the Golden Rule, even if they had no idea what they were saying. He was there in the tears of grief and in the tears of compassion. God was present in every hug, every embrace, every high five. What a day!
That day left me on a high for the next 2 days.
Wednesday was "Feild Ed" class. The week prior to this we took a feild trip to the funeral home. Class this week was discussion about funerals. What we thought of the things said at the home, what we thought about funerals for ourselves, and an attempted debate between the ideas of burial and cremation. This was not amazing in itself, but what followed that evening was extraordinary.
Wednesday night, I was invited to attend a re-internment process. Somewhat reluctantly, yet with a strange sort of excitement I decided to go.
Thursday was the day I was to attend this, and I made my way out to the cemetary. This particular cemetary was sitting on a hill above a river. The river was erroding the hillside, and a number of plots needed to be re-located. The process of retrieving the bodies of those burried there was left to the experts. I was there to observe not only the exhumation of the bodies, but also to observe the way one would perform a re-internment ceremony.
I watched with facinaton, as the staff expertly dug to a safe point with a backhoe, then jumped in with shovels to extract remants of a disintegrated coffin, and the bones of the deceased. I won't go into any more detail than that here, so you can feel safe to keep reading.
Once all of the pieces were retrieved, we moved to re- bury him in another location.
I have to tell you, the most amazing Holy Spirit moment was when the wind picked up, and the leaves started to fall. It was like it was snowing leaves, and apparently something similar had happened earlier when they had done other plots.
I was, at first, afraid of what I would experience. I didn't feel that I handled death well, nor was I prepared for what I was about to see or experience.
Not only did I manage to stay the afternoon tear-free, I found I enjoyed it. I actually enjoyed being a part of this experience and the peace I was filled with in being there.
I can hardly wait to go back this week to finish it off!
Friday was U2harist. Stepping out of my comfort zone to dance through the Cathedral with a group of youth I didn't know, was amazing! Add to that, one of my youth offered to do a reading. I wasn't sure of her ability, but she did great. Amazing what happens when you let go of control and allow the Holy Spirit to take over!
This week coming is a reading week for me. I was looking forward to resting a bit, unil I realized I have 3 papers, a group project and an exam due when I return! Instead of resting this week, I will be spending a lot of time with my nose in the books. Oh well, I have learned so much in 6 weeks, who knows what will happen this week!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Thanksgiving Already!
So, the time has finally come... it's Thanksgiving! While that, for most people, means turkey and cranberries, for me it means that we are 1/2 way to Christmas! And that means 1/2 way to the end of term! I am so incredibly amazed at how far I have come in just a few short weeks!
Add to that, I have been doing very well on my weekly Hebrew tests, and you have a reason to give thanks and throw a party!
Thanksgiving at my house, will be un-traditional this year. We will mark the weekend by doing laundry, cleaning, and restoring the house since none of that has been done since school started!
I'm thrilled to have everyone home for 3 full days where we will ALL pitch in and set things right again. We will do the usual church on Sunday, and to add to all the things to be greatful for, we've been invited to the farm for dinner on Sunday (so there will be some traditional elements!)
I'm so blessed to have so many wonderfully supportive people in my life.
In amongst all that fun and resoration, I do still have papers to write and tests to study for, but I know that this weekend will be filled with happiness, togetherness, and love.
This Thanksgiving I have so much more to be grateful for!
Add to all the usuals, my family who are doing just great at helping to look after each other when I'm away, my new friends at school, my super great supportive teachers, my new reliable car (which btw is only costing me $30 in gas a week!), all the wonderful youth, and friends who have offered to help out when we've been in a pinch, good grades (so far), the fact that I have managed to miss the illness running rampant through my classrooms, and the all around sense of peace I feel.
May we all be blessed this holiday with God's grace, a bountiful harvest, and loved ones to share it all with!
Add to that, I have been doing very well on my weekly Hebrew tests, and you have a reason to give thanks and throw a party!
Thanksgiving at my house, will be un-traditional this year. We will mark the weekend by doing laundry, cleaning, and restoring the house since none of that has been done since school started!
I'm thrilled to have everyone home for 3 full days where we will ALL pitch in and set things right again. We will do the usual church on Sunday, and to add to all the things to be greatful for, we've been invited to the farm for dinner on Sunday (so there will be some traditional elements!)
I'm so blessed to have so many wonderfully supportive people in my life.
In amongst all that fun and resoration, I do still have papers to write and tests to study for, but I know that this weekend will be filled with happiness, togetherness, and love.
This Thanksgiving I have so much more to be grateful for!
Add to all the usuals, my family who are doing just great at helping to look after each other when I'm away, my new friends at school, my super great supportive teachers, my new reliable car (which btw is only costing me $30 in gas a week!), all the wonderful youth, and friends who have offered to help out when we've been in a pinch, good grades (so far), the fact that I have managed to miss the illness running rampant through my classrooms, and the all around sense of peace I feel.
May we all be blessed this holiday with God's grace, a bountiful harvest, and loved ones to share it all with!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
God Whispers
Many times I have heard that God speaks in whispers. I have always answered that with, "Not in my world!" God has always been a loud, booming voice in my mind, or coming from the mouth of a friend or family memeber, or even a stranger. I learned this week HOW God whispers to me!
The idea of someone whispering to me, seems quite illogical. I can hardly make out the sound of my own voice over the din in my life most days. If it's not the TV, or the radio, or the kids, or the dogs next door, or any other number of things going on in the background, it's all the thoughts that are running around in my brain, even when I TRY to sit quietly!
In the last 2 weeks (of which have been insanely busy!) I have cried twice. Only twice, I swear! Once I knew why I was crying, but the second occasion, left me completely speachless. I had no explaination for the source of my tears.
I was re-assured by my many classmates that tears are the Holy Spirit's way of speaking to us, and it's ok to cry, tears are good signs. All of these things I had heard before and at that moment, while I felt utterly ridiculous for the outburst, these words still held little comfort.
I pondered throughout the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening about why I seem to, oh so suddenly and inexplicable burst into tears, and frequently it seems.
It was last night, just before I dozed off, that the realization dawned on me! I know exactly WHY, or at least have a great theory about why, the tears where flowing AND where they were coming from, and I finally figured out what the Holy Spirit had to do with it all.
I will try to explain it but, as was uttered in class yesterday, God is too big for words! So here's my attempt. It seems that God perhaps would like to stop yelling at me (in spite of the fact that I love that way of clear, unmistakable communication). He wants to be able to whisper to me. The trouble is, I don't hear it. I think it might be because I'm not used to listening for it. (It's taken me 6 years to hear the yelling clearly!) My thought is, that God needs to get my attention some how so He sends the Holy Spirit to tug at my heart. That tugging causes tears. (I should mention, that crying in public is one of the most embarrassing, horrible things I could do!) By crying, I am humbled and in a position to really listen to what God is saying.
I still can't hear the message clearly, however. I think I will have to test out this theory and see where it leads.
Unexplained tears = God wants to whipser, Pay attention.
When the tears come for no logical reason, I need to really focus on what triggered them, and listen more closely for God's whipser.
I'm not saying that I'll cry less from now on (sorry folks!) but I think this might be a growing point for me.
I'm very excited to realize that the tears don't mean I'm completely insane after all!
The idea of someone whispering to me, seems quite illogical. I can hardly make out the sound of my own voice over the din in my life most days. If it's not the TV, or the radio, or the kids, or the dogs next door, or any other number of things going on in the background, it's all the thoughts that are running around in my brain, even when I TRY to sit quietly!
In the last 2 weeks (of which have been insanely busy!) I have cried twice. Only twice, I swear! Once I knew why I was crying, but the second occasion, left me completely speachless. I had no explaination for the source of my tears.
I was re-assured by my many classmates that tears are the Holy Spirit's way of speaking to us, and it's ok to cry, tears are good signs. All of these things I had heard before and at that moment, while I felt utterly ridiculous for the outburst, these words still held little comfort.
I pondered throughout the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening about why I seem to, oh so suddenly and inexplicable burst into tears, and frequently it seems.
It was last night, just before I dozed off, that the realization dawned on me! I know exactly WHY, or at least have a great theory about why, the tears where flowing AND where they were coming from, and I finally figured out what the Holy Spirit had to do with it all.
I will try to explain it but, as was uttered in class yesterday, God is too big for words! So here's my attempt. It seems that God perhaps would like to stop yelling at me (in spite of the fact that I love that way of clear, unmistakable communication). He wants to be able to whisper to me. The trouble is, I don't hear it. I think it might be because I'm not used to listening for it. (It's taken me 6 years to hear the yelling clearly!) My thought is, that God needs to get my attention some how so He sends the Holy Spirit to tug at my heart. That tugging causes tears. (I should mention, that crying in public is one of the most embarrassing, horrible things I could do!) By crying, I am humbled and in a position to really listen to what God is saying.
I still can't hear the message clearly, however. I think I will have to test out this theory and see where it leads.
Unexplained tears = God wants to whipser, Pay attention.
When the tears come for no logical reason, I need to really focus on what triggered them, and listen more closely for God's whipser.
I'm not saying that I'll cry less from now on (sorry folks!) but I think this might be a growing point for me.
I'm very excited to realize that the tears don't mean I'm completely insane after all!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Orientation Day!
So, today was the official Orientation Day! I thought I would be terrified, perhaps, as is usual for me, I thought I might actually cry the whole drive in this morning. Turns out, I didn't. (Barb - you'd be proud!!)
My alarm went off about 6:40am (a completely obscene time of day for me!)and as I laid there, contemplating what to put on, I couldn't help but to think of the beautiful weather and how I was going to have to find something comfortable, dressy-ish, and cool for the day in my closet. I rolled out of bed and (eventually) made my way to the closet. I opened the door, and once again cursed the person who created it as it is the most completely disfunctional space ever created! To understand, you have to imagine, a closet that runs the entire span of my room (approximately 15') completely walled off, with only 1 regular sized door to get it. Once inside the 18" wide hallway, I travel to the back where my clothes are and realize, there is really no point trying to pull anything out as it is still pitch black! I stumble back out of the closet/hallway over shoes and make my way to the main floor, muttering to myself about why I would have ever removed the flashlight from the room in the first place.
Returning to the closet, flashlight in hand, I pull out an outfit that seems to match. Upon emerging from the black hole, my darling husband starts to stir, and as he rolls over he says, "So, do you think that perhpas you should set out your clothes the night before?" So now you know, my loving, supportive hubby, is also just plain brilliant!
After dressing, and 3 pairs of underware later to solve the pantyline issue, I was ready to go.
I headed out into the hallway, where my middle child was stiring, and the darling calls out, "I love you mom! Have a good day!" I stop in the doorway to blow him a kiss, and to see the smallest of my angels still sound asleep.
Down the stairs I creep (as much as one can creep in an old house with squeeky stairs) when my oldest, and only girl says, "Is Dad still home?" I assured her that he was, and that he may need her help getting the boys lunch ready, kiss her goodbye and head to the kitchen.
One last quick stop to toss the lunch prepared the night before into the lunch bag, and I am off. All this and it's only 7:15am!
The drive to the school was sunny and beautiful. Shortly after leaving town, my cell phone rings, and it's one of my great friends calling to wish me a good day! We speak briefly (with the aid of bluetooth!) and make plans to meet for lunch.
I arrive at the school, with a few minutes to spare, and make one last call home to make sure that everything is going well, and Mike has found all the lunch foods. After reminding him where to find the kettle (it's been in the same location for more than 6 months!) and after he asures me that all is fine, I head to chapel.
Entering the halls, I see a few students that I reconginze from the open house I attended in the spring, and feel, strangly ... comfortable.
Chapel was, well, church. The 2 things I will always remember of this particular service will be the Dean's opening statements of his sermon, where he told the story about how he had wanted to take the opportunity to tell someone to 'go to hell'. That was a, holy cow moment. Apparently, the first sermon of my schooling illustrated how priests are still human. (In the Dean's defence, there was much more to this sermon, but this is the story that will stick with me!) The second thing that will always stick with me, was that the host and wine used in their Eucharist, was... well.... terrible!! The host was thick and stale tasting, and not even the wine could wash away the terrible taste of it! Now, I've been communing for many years, and I can honestly say, I have never had a wafer that was ever this thick, hard, and yucky before! I wasn't sure if I was allowed to chew it, or if I had to wait for it to dissolve in my mouth. It certainly didn't help that as I was kneeling at the rail, I also happened to have the great privilege to be positioned directly in front of the Dean's knees! What to do, chew or pray it dissolved?? So, I tried, as discreetly as I could to break up the wafer before the cup came by.
As chapel ended, we all made our way to the Great Hall for the info session. I joined a group of fellow students, new and old, as well as faculty, new and old for 1 hour of info and icebreakers.
This all went well, and I was surprised to find that I was very comfortable.
After this, one of the 3rd year students that I had previously met, took me on a quick tour and introduced me to one of his friends. While we were standing in the sun, the Rector of the college appeared. This man I had met before at services. We had sang in a choir together, and he had led a number of services that I had been participating in. He is a large man, and in all his robes, he brings to mind, Hagrid from the Harry Potter series. The man, by all accounts, is a big, gentle, teddy bear, however, standing next to him, was definately an intimidating moment. He engages the other students in conversation and makes the connection of where we had met. I was once again amazed at the human-ness of this man. He was, a big, gentle, teddy bear. As this realization dawns of me, I look up and him and blurt out, "wow... you are not as scary as I first thought!" Now that brought some chuckles, and required some explaining, so I shared that I had always been kinda intimidated by him, but was glad to see that it was un-necessary, and would be sure to stop in at his office for a chat at a later date.
At this point, my phone rang, and my girl friend was ready to meet for lunch. I said my goodbyes and headed to meet her. We drove down to the mall to pick up some necessities, and lunch.
I returned back to campus an hour early for the Dean's Reception, so I headed to a lounge that my new friend Marty had showed me. There I found 2 other new students, and we spent the next hour talking and getting to know each other.
We were eventually joined by a few more students, and a professor who was also new to the school.
The reception was a nice opportunity to meet and mingle with other students of all years.
I returned home, and by 8:30pm, I was officially exhausted. Seems these early mornings are going to be harder than I thought! That said, I now must turn in for the night. There will be lots more to share I'm sure as classes start tomorrow at 8:30am!!
My alarm went off about 6:40am (a completely obscene time of day for me!)and as I laid there, contemplating what to put on, I couldn't help but to think of the beautiful weather and how I was going to have to find something comfortable, dressy-ish, and cool for the day in my closet. I rolled out of bed and (eventually) made my way to the closet. I opened the door, and once again cursed the person who created it as it is the most completely disfunctional space ever created! To understand, you have to imagine, a closet that runs the entire span of my room (approximately 15') completely walled off, with only 1 regular sized door to get it. Once inside the 18" wide hallway, I travel to the back where my clothes are and realize, there is really no point trying to pull anything out as it is still pitch black! I stumble back out of the closet/hallway over shoes and make my way to the main floor, muttering to myself about why I would have ever removed the flashlight from the room in the first place.
Returning to the closet, flashlight in hand, I pull out an outfit that seems to match. Upon emerging from the black hole, my darling husband starts to stir, and as he rolls over he says, "So, do you think that perhpas you should set out your clothes the night before?" So now you know, my loving, supportive hubby, is also just plain brilliant!
After dressing, and 3 pairs of underware later to solve the pantyline issue, I was ready to go.
I headed out into the hallway, where my middle child was stiring, and the darling calls out, "I love you mom! Have a good day!" I stop in the doorway to blow him a kiss, and to see the smallest of my angels still sound asleep.
Down the stairs I creep (as much as one can creep in an old house with squeeky stairs) when my oldest, and only girl says, "Is Dad still home?" I assured her that he was, and that he may need her help getting the boys lunch ready, kiss her goodbye and head to the kitchen.
One last quick stop to toss the lunch prepared the night before into the lunch bag, and I am off. All this and it's only 7:15am!
The drive to the school was sunny and beautiful. Shortly after leaving town, my cell phone rings, and it's one of my great friends calling to wish me a good day! We speak briefly (with the aid of bluetooth!) and make plans to meet for lunch.
I arrive at the school, with a few minutes to spare, and make one last call home to make sure that everything is going well, and Mike has found all the lunch foods. After reminding him where to find the kettle (it's been in the same location for more than 6 months!) and after he asures me that all is fine, I head to chapel.
Entering the halls, I see a few students that I reconginze from the open house I attended in the spring, and feel, strangly ... comfortable.
Chapel was, well, church. The 2 things I will always remember of this particular service will be the Dean's opening statements of his sermon, where he told the story about how he had wanted to take the opportunity to tell someone to 'go to hell'. That was a, holy cow moment. Apparently, the first sermon of my schooling illustrated how priests are still human. (In the Dean's defence, there was much more to this sermon, but this is the story that will stick with me!) The second thing that will always stick with me, was that the host and wine used in their Eucharist, was... well.... terrible!! The host was thick and stale tasting, and not even the wine could wash away the terrible taste of it! Now, I've been communing for many years, and I can honestly say, I have never had a wafer that was ever this thick, hard, and yucky before! I wasn't sure if I was allowed to chew it, or if I had to wait for it to dissolve in my mouth. It certainly didn't help that as I was kneeling at the rail, I also happened to have the great privilege to be positioned directly in front of the Dean's knees! What to do, chew or pray it dissolved?? So, I tried, as discreetly as I could to break up the wafer before the cup came by.
As chapel ended, we all made our way to the Great Hall for the info session. I joined a group of fellow students, new and old, as well as faculty, new and old for 1 hour of info and icebreakers.
This all went well, and I was surprised to find that I was very comfortable.
After this, one of the 3rd year students that I had previously met, took me on a quick tour and introduced me to one of his friends. While we were standing in the sun, the Rector of the college appeared. This man I had met before at services. We had sang in a choir together, and he had led a number of services that I had been participating in. He is a large man, and in all his robes, he brings to mind, Hagrid from the Harry Potter series. The man, by all accounts, is a big, gentle, teddy bear, however, standing next to him, was definately an intimidating moment. He engages the other students in conversation and makes the connection of where we had met. I was once again amazed at the human-ness of this man. He was, a big, gentle, teddy bear. As this realization dawns of me, I look up and him and blurt out, "wow... you are not as scary as I first thought!" Now that brought some chuckles, and required some explaining, so I shared that I had always been kinda intimidated by him, but was glad to see that it was un-necessary, and would be sure to stop in at his office for a chat at a later date.
At this point, my phone rang, and my girl friend was ready to meet for lunch. I said my goodbyes and headed to meet her. We drove down to the mall to pick up some necessities, and lunch.
I returned back to campus an hour early for the Dean's Reception, so I headed to a lounge that my new friend Marty had showed me. There I found 2 other new students, and we spent the next hour talking and getting to know each other.
We were eventually joined by a few more students, and a professor who was also new to the school.
The reception was a nice opportunity to meet and mingle with other students of all years.
I returned home, and by 8:30pm, I was officially exhausted. Seems these early mornings are going to be harder than I thought! That said, I now must turn in for the night. There will be lots more to share I'm sure as classes start tomorrow at 8:30am!!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Back to School Shopping
Back to school shopping has been a tradition for many years with me. As a student, I always loved the day my Dad would pack us up in the car to go on this adventure, and over the last 6 or so years, I have enjoyed this with my own 3 children every August. There is something about the cooler nights, and the leaves changing color that sets my heart fluttering in anticipation of a new school year.
I finished my BA (in Music and Law at Carleton University) way back in, well... I'm not going to tell you how way back, you can just trust me that it's been a while. So school shopping has not been for ME in quite some time.
This past week, a friend of mine (who is also a Mom and has recently gone back to school) and I headed out to the stores to get OURSELVES some back to school supplies.
This trip set my heart racing rather than fluttering! I felt a bit like I did at 13 when I was starting high school. I have no idea what I need, what the 'other kids' will be using. I just want to 'fit in'. So, to remedy this gut-wrenching situation, I fbd (facebook-d - yes, I have played into that time sucking website!) a fellow student already in his 3rd year for advice.
Upon not receiving an immediate response (apparently I'm not the center of the universe!) I headed out the door to Future Shop, Wal-Mart, Staples, Best Buy, and Chapters just to name a few, in search of the perfect equipment for myself.
In short, I was shocked at how little I saw that appealed to me (as a MATURE, lol, student) and how expensive everything was that I did like.
We spent a good portion of the excursion, joking about whether we should get the 'tinkerbell' or the 'Hannah Montana' licenced merchandise, or spend the big bucks on a beautiful, masculine, leather briefcase. Those seemed to be the options.
There were pens, and pencils, highlighters, and all the regular supplies, but somehow, I just had a really hard time, deciding on what was right for me.
One of the last stores we went to was Chapters. There I did manage to spend some of money. I found a staple-less stapler (a true find, that I had been coveting since Rick showed me his!), a pencil case , made out of recycled cotton and pop bottles, and a notebook made completely recycled materials. What you need to know about these purchases is this: Since I returned from a National Youth Gathering in Whitehorse last summer, where Pastor Fred Ludolf challenged the youth (and their leaders) to go green and help to show our churches and communities how to be good "Stewards of Creation", my life has been a series of weighing cost against 'green'. But that is a whole other blog post!
At the last store, my girlfriend purchased her laptop, and I found a lunch bag, that 'would do'. The end result.. money spent, and little to show for it, although the purchases were mainly enviro friendly.
I still feel no where near prepared for school to start, and although I did end up receiving some great advise about being myself, and not trying to fit in. Being an individual is important and being true to who you are is even more so.
Perhaps this part of the journey is to learn that it's not about 'stuff' and more about the person I am, and who God wants me to be.
I finished my BA (in Music and Law at Carleton University) way back in, well... I'm not going to tell you how way back, you can just trust me that it's been a while. So school shopping has not been for ME in quite some time.
This past week, a friend of mine (who is also a Mom and has recently gone back to school) and I headed out to the stores to get OURSELVES some back to school supplies.
This trip set my heart racing rather than fluttering! I felt a bit like I did at 13 when I was starting high school. I have no idea what I need, what the 'other kids' will be using. I just want to 'fit in'. So, to remedy this gut-wrenching situation, I fbd (facebook-d - yes, I have played into that time sucking website!) a fellow student already in his 3rd year for advice.
Upon not receiving an immediate response (apparently I'm not the center of the universe!) I headed out the door to Future Shop, Wal-Mart, Staples, Best Buy, and Chapters just to name a few, in search of the perfect equipment for myself.
In short, I was shocked at how little I saw that appealed to me (as a MATURE, lol, student) and how expensive everything was that I did like.
We spent a good portion of the excursion, joking about whether we should get the 'tinkerbell' or the 'Hannah Montana' licenced merchandise, or spend the big bucks on a beautiful, masculine, leather briefcase. Those seemed to be the options.
There were pens, and pencils, highlighters, and all the regular supplies, but somehow, I just had a really hard time, deciding on what was right for me.
One of the last stores we went to was Chapters. There I did manage to spend some of money. I found a staple-less stapler (a true find, that I had been coveting since Rick showed me his!), a pencil case , made out of recycled cotton and pop bottles, and a notebook made completely recycled materials. What you need to know about these purchases is this: Since I returned from a National Youth Gathering in Whitehorse last summer, where Pastor Fred Ludolf challenged the youth (and their leaders) to go green and help to show our churches and communities how to be good "Stewards of Creation", my life has been a series of weighing cost against 'green'. But that is a whole other blog post!
At the last store, my girlfriend purchased her laptop, and I found a lunch bag, that 'would do'. The end result.. money spent, and little to show for it, although the purchases were mainly enviro friendly.
I still feel no where near prepared for school to start, and although I did end up receiving some great advise about being myself, and not trying to fit in. Being an individual is important and being true to who you are is even more so.
Perhaps this part of the journey is to learn that it's not about 'stuff' and more about the person I am, and who God wants me to be.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
What Have I Done??!!
So, being fully registered for school, I took a trip to the University book store to beat the rush and pick up any books that were already available. Ok, ok.... more just cause I wanted to go onto campus as an "official student". In any case, I made use of this trip to pick up 4 of my textbooks that were available. And what a shock! It's amazing I didn't drop dead of a heart attack right then and there!
The first shock came, when my friend Claudia (who was being ever so helpful) dropped a Hebew textbook in my hands. It was at that moment, that my heart seemed to stop, the room started to spin, and my lunch began to churn. As I stared at the book, that was only a few centimeters thick, with it's odd series of squiggles and markings, I realized that not only was it covered an a foreign language, but the book opened backwards and the authors name was written on the top. The whole book was backwards. I took it from her, and turned it over in my hands trying to figure out if it was perhpas mis-printed or bound wrong. It was at that very moment that the words flew out of my mouth... "What have I done??" I began to wonder if perhaps I should have listened to all those people who said Greek was the way to go.
As I stood in shock, mouth hanging open, staring at the book, Claudia's 9 year old son gazed up at me, and I began to pray, yet again. "O Lord! Please, please, please let this be the wrong book!!"
As has been the custom, God answered. It was indeed NOT the book I needed and once again my heart began to beat.
I continued to search, somewhat clumsily, and with the help of one of the bookstore employees for the remainder of the available books and came up with 4 . (I appologize to all staff, and fellow students if I appeared incredibly inept! I'm sure some 18 year old was sniggering on the other side of the shelves!)
After browsing around at the college wear and scoping out everyone's Christmas gifts (sorry guys.... I guess I just spoiled it.. you're all getting Western Wear for Christmas this year!), I made my way to the cash to pay for said 4 books.
Well, if the Hebrew text didn't do me in, the next conversation almost did!
To ease you into this, you have to know something about me. I am a huge reader. I LOVE books, admittedly, they are one of my big vices. I am always waiting for them to go on sale. I rarely pay full price for a book, and if I do, it had better be a great read!
So, I arrive at the cash with all 4 books in my arm (which is now feeling like rubber as they were quite heavy!), all new and shiny and fresh, as there were no used editions. The cashier, was a pleasant young lady. She was likely working there to put herself through her first degree (she was that young!). She pleasently greeted me and rang through my books, and then looked up at me, with her big doe eyes, and perfect smile and said, "That will be $165 please."
Once again my jaw hit the floor, and I muttered, "What have I done?!"
I handed over the credit card, closed my eyes and waited.
Sweetly, she looked at me and said,"It's ok, that's not that bad." It wouldn't have been so bad if that had been all the books I needed to purchase, but that was only half of what was required for the FIRST TERM alone!
It has been 15 years (don't tell anyone!) since I purchased University texts, and I had forgotten just how expensive they are.
If anyone out there happens to have used texts they are wanting to get rid of.. please, message me and I'll share my book list!!
It's been about a week now since this incident, and although there are moments when I still ask, "What have I done?" I have accepted the fact, that I need to be challenged in order to grow, and as long as God allows me into heaven when I actually have a heart attack, I'll do my best to roll with it, and allow myself to be moulded by my creator.
The first shock came, when my friend Claudia (who was being ever so helpful) dropped a Hebew textbook in my hands. It was at that moment, that my heart seemed to stop, the room started to spin, and my lunch began to churn. As I stared at the book, that was only a few centimeters thick, with it's odd series of squiggles and markings, I realized that not only was it covered an a foreign language, but the book opened backwards and the authors name was written on the top. The whole book was backwards. I took it from her, and turned it over in my hands trying to figure out if it was perhpas mis-printed or bound wrong. It was at that very moment that the words flew out of my mouth... "What have I done??" I began to wonder if perhaps I should have listened to all those people who said Greek was the way to go.
As I stood in shock, mouth hanging open, staring at the book, Claudia's 9 year old son gazed up at me, and I began to pray, yet again. "O Lord! Please, please, please let this be the wrong book!!"
As has been the custom, God answered. It was indeed NOT the book I needed and once again my heart began to beat.
I continued to search, somewhat clumsily, and with the help of one of the bookstore employees for the remainder of the available books and came up with 4 . (I appologize to all staff, and fellow students if I appeared incredibly inept! I'm sure some 18 year old was sniggering on the other side of the shelves!)
After browsing around at the college wear and scoping out everyone's Christmas gifts (sorry guys.... I guess I just spoiled it.. you're all getting Western Wear for Christmas this year!), I made my way to the cash to pay for said 4 books.
Well, if the Hebrew text didn't do me in, the next conversation almost did!
To ease you into this, you have to know something about me. I am a huge reader. I LOVE books, admittedly, they are one of my big vices. I am always waiting for them to go on sale. I rarely pay full price for a book, and if I do, it had better be a great read!
So, I arrive at the cash with all 4 books in my arm (which is now feeling like rubber as they were quite heavy!), all new and shiny and fresh, as there were no used editions. The cashier, was a pleasant young lady. She was likely working there to put herself through her first degree (she was that young!). She pleasently greeted me and rang through my books, and then looked up at me, with her big doe eyes, and perfect smile and said, "That will be $165 please."
Once again my jaw hit the floor, and I muttered, "What have I done?!"
I handed over the credit card, closed my eyes and waited.
Sweetly, she looked at me and said,"It's ok, that's not that bad." It wouldn't have been so bad if that had been all the books I needed to purchase, but that was only half of what was required for the FIRST TERM alone!
It has been 15 years (don't tell anyone!) since I purchased University texts, and I had forgotten just how expensive they are.
If anyone out there happens to have used texts they are wanting to get rid of.. please, message me and I'll share my book list!!
It's been about a week now since this incident, and although there are moments when I still ask, "What have I done?" I have accepted the fact, that I need to be challenged in order to grow, and as long as God allows me into heaven when I actually have a heart attack, I'll do my best to roll with it, and allow myself to be moulded by my creator.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
My Dear Wormwood
Today has been a day of highs and lows for me. I guess that is just the way things are in all our lives, though. A series of events that either leave us in one position or the other.
I recently read C S Lewis's "The Screwtape Letters", and it has given me a new way of looking at the 'down' parts of my day.
I'll start by sharing the 'up' side. I had a great productive day at the office, working on creating Sunday School Lessons for the coming weeks, looking at the services I had coming up, and in general, basking in the glow of a church coming to life.
My main focus for today was to get myself registered for school. I needed some help, and the parish priest was more than willing to help me. Truth be told, I'm not sure which one of us was more excited about the prospect of my actually registering. (I am so very greatful for all the encouragement and do realize how blessed I am!!)
With all the bugs removed from the system, it took little over an hour to completely register for all 10 of my classes and to print out a book list (as it was available).
I can't begin to explain the great 'high' it was to feel like I was finally officially a student again, and I was feeling prepared to take on whatever was thrown in my path, after all, God has been providing throughout the whole journey to this point, there was no reason to think He wouldn't continue.
This all came to a startling end when I had a horrible feeling of guilt wash over me.
What in the world was I doing going back to school when I have 3 young children? My daughter, being only 11, and the oldest, was who I was thinking of. The guilt of leaving her to care for her younger brothers, and to leave them all to do this was so overwhelming, it was impossible to hold back a wave of tears.
Fortunately, God was there, even in my doubt, as this all occured with my ever supportive hubby sitting next to me. Although he (Mike) was laughing at me, in his own way, he was lending me the support and encouragement I needed at that moment.
So what does Screwtape have to do with all this? Reflecting this evening on this day of great leaps forward, contrasted with the episode of guilt, I couldn't help but think about how Uncle Screwtape would be encouraging Wormwood to play on that guilt, and ever widen that gap of doubt. I could just hear his advice to his nephew, encouraging Wormwood to play with those feelings, to find the small crack and grasp a hold and force it further open. How fortunate for me, my creator had other plans!
As I wind down for the night, I am aware of all of todays blessings and I'm excited to see what blessings tomorrow will bring.
I recently read C S Lewis's "The Screwtape Letters", and it has given me a new way of looking at the 'down' parts of my day.
I'll start by sharing the 'up' side. I had a great productive day at the office, working on creating Sunday School Lessons for the coming weeks, looking at the services I had coming up, and in general, basking in the glow of a church coming to life.
My main focus for today was to get myself registered for school. I needed some help, and the parish priest was more than willing to help me. Truth be told, I'm not sure which one of us was more excited about the prospect of my actually registering. (I am so very greatful for all the encouragement and do realize how blessed I am!!)
With all the bugs removed from the system, it took little over an hour to completely register for all 10 of my classes and to print out a book list (as it was available).
I can't begin to explain the great 'high' it was to feel like I was finally officially a student again, and I was feeling prepared to take on whatever was thrown in my path, after all, God has been providing throughout the whole journey to this point, there was no reason to think He wouldn't continue.
This all came to a startling end when I had a horrible feeling of guilt wash over me.
What in the world was I doing going back to school when I have 3 young children? My daughter, being only 11, and the oldest, was who I was thinking of. The guilt of leaving her to care for her younger brothers, and to leave them all to do this was so overwhelming, it was impossible to hold back a wave of tears.
Fortunately, God was there, even in my doubt, as this all occured with my ever supportive hubby sitting next to me. Although he (Mike) was laughing at me, in his own way, he was lending me the support and encouragement I needed at that moment.
So what does Screwtape have to do with all this? Reflecting this evening on this day of great leaps forward, contrasted with the episode of guilt, I couldn't help but think about how Uncle Screwtape would be encouraging Wormwood to play on that guilt, and ever widen that gap of doubt. I could just hear his advice to his nephew, encouraging Wormwood to play with those feelings, to find the small crack and grasp a hold and force it further open. How fortunate for me, my creator had other plans!
As I wind down for the night, I am aware of all of todays blessings and I'm excited to see what blessings tomorrow will bring.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Welcome to the Road
Thanks so much for joining me on my journey. I have had so many people ask me, how do you go from mom to seminary student? How did this happen? So, I hope that by blogging, I can share how this has all come about and how life changes for me through my years at seminary. Let's hit the road!
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