In the second week of September, I went on the second of my four self-assigned field trips for school, this one to a Baptist church around the block from where I live. The pastor and congregation were warmly welcoming, spirit was flowing abundantly, and a young woman guest preacher gave an absolutely splendid sermon without once consulting any notes. It must have lasted an hour or longer; the whole service lasted two and a half hours. For that reason, they will not be seeing me again, but it was a wonderful experience and I had a very interesting conversation with the pastor afterward about caring for Baptist patients.
He said the main thing to remember is that “they just want love. It’s about the relationship, not religion.” During the three hours I was at this church, I did not hear the Lord’s Prayer recited, so I conclude a Baptist patient would not be waiting for that. The pastor said that salvation does not come because one is baptized or because one does this or that meritorious action—it’s because Christ died for us. (Nonetheless, as the young woman said in her sermon, we are made in God’s image and are supposed to set an example of Christian conduct, including treating others with love.) “Grace” and “mercy” were words I heard over and over. The pastor also said that Romans 8:28 is a touchstone: “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.”
I asked what he might say to a patient who wonders why God has visited a terrible illness upon her. He said that he would say, “It’s not always the Lord doing something to us. Sometimes our own choices have played a part. Bottom line: God is still in control.” He said it’s important for people to remember that “this is a temporary situation,” meaning life on earth, and also that “we live in a flawed world.”
I asked about the situation where a person is in the ICU and it seems clear that what is being prolonged is suffering rather than life, but the person’s family and friends are hoping for a miracle. He said that he might say to the patient’s loved ones, “We can be kind of selfish. You see her suffering. Why would you want her to be in this state? We can try to prolong life, but it’s not in our power. Remember how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. Let us let her go to life everlasting.”
This pastor currently works in IT, but is thinking of becoming a full-time professional chaplain. This is something I know a thing or two about, so I told him about Clinical Pastoral Education and that I’d be happy to answer any questions about the path to chaplaincy that arise for him.
I gave Emily in hospice a call and found out that she had “graduated” and gone off to a senior community. Fortunately, she had approved my being added to the list of people with access to her medical and other information, so I was able to find out which one. It’s the same one where the only other person I’ve ever known to graduate from hospice also ended up; they were in the same hospice, so maybe there is some kind of connection between that hospice and that senior community.
It occurred to me that Emily would have lost her whole cadre of volunteers, and that this might have been quite a blow, but I still don’t know if this is the case, because every time I called the new place over the course of a few weeks, she was eating or playing bingo or what have you, which seemed like a good sign. When I finally reached her, we were back to her not being able to hear me and saying over and over, “Are you there? Are you there?” while I yelled as loudly as I could into the phone.
Meanwhile, I was still mentally flailing about trying to think how to build community, and then I read something that changed my plans yet again. Most days I read a page from The Caregiver’s Tao Te Ching: Compassionate Caring for Your Loved Ones and Yourself, by William and Nancy Martin, and often find it helpful. These sentences brought me back to earth: “There is nothing to figure out.” Also, “Each day we assume less about what should happen.”
I remembered that the only moment in which I can act is this one, and also that it may be true that going to such-and-such meeting regularly would be helpful in having a sense of community, or it may not. It might not be any truer than that getting back together with F. (which has not been offered) would bring great joy. Some things are fairly easy to see as false, but in fact, I really have no idea what should or shouldn’t happen, given my extremely limited vantage point—how little I can see of the entire web of causes and conditions.
I decided to relax, to tolerate the nagging sense of lack and uncertainty, and, if there should happen to be a choice in a given moment to move toward community, to do that, if I remember. I reflected that, once upon a time, I thought, “If I could be a chaplain, I’d be so happy!” Well, now I am one, and now I think, “If I had more of a sense of being part of a team of chaplains, I’d be so happy!” That is: wants are endless. It’s so easy to locate satisfaction in the never-arriving future.
I went off to work for the second time at the new hospital. The first time I was there, it was Saturday and I was alone. This time it was Wednesday, so I joined the chaplain who has been at this hospital for a long time (that is, at the old hospital next door, whose patients are now all at the new hospital). The office is basically his office, and I wasn’t sure how much he enjoys sharing it, but he was extremely friendly. He showed me some things in the electronic health record that were very useful and then we walked around the hospital and he introduced me to a number of people. At one point, he told someone that he’s the “head of the department,” so I played along and said, “Yes, I have to run and get him a doughnut every ten minutes.” I didn’t plan any of this or expect it, and ended up feeling very welcomed and accepted, and therefore enthusiastic about the day ahead. It also turns out that there is a bathroom in the old building, where our office is. It’s right across the hallway from our office, and we have a key to it. Not only do we have a bathroom, since the building is almost empty, it’s a semi-private one.
I later sent an exuberant note to my co-worker thanking him for the warm welcome, and copied our boss. I got a really lovely reply from my co-worker saying he appreciated my ministry and presence, and then both of us got a very nice note from our boss saying we are both wonderful team members and that our collaboration skills are appreciated.
No comments:
Post a Comment