knees first...

The first time I ever saw more water in one place bigger than my bathtub occurred when I was six at the Pacific Ocean. Then the water never ended. My father gave me one rule- I couldn’t go into water deeper than my knees. For a girl from the desert mountains of Wyoming, that seemed like a great freedom and daring act. And at age six the enormity and rush of the waves terrified me enough to follow directions gladly.  Since then I’ve ventured deep under the waves and salty surface of oceans.  The act doesn’t seem quite so heroic, but the process into the water has stayed the same.  Knees first.

I can see myself on multiple occasions walking into the ocean or lake, tenderly placing my feet into the chilly water. It’s not that bad. A bit deeper to my calves and my knees and Oh my! Am I sure I need to get wet today? Really? If I reach my belly, I’m shrieking, shivering, and totally committed. Count to three. 1, 2…*dunk*…Gasp! Such a calculated journey to total immersion. 

This week’s orientation to be a hospital chaplain has allowed me to settle my toes in long awaited and still surprising information and then venture in to my knees, a little deeper with those hard topics of death and meaning of life and crisis conversation. I’m up to my belly with a full schedule, pager, and computer access.  Now it’s time to go and do the serving. 

As much as I am excited from the moment I approach the beach, I know getting to the all wet stage takes time, serious consideration, and positive self-talk. (I’m not a run until I splash-fall into the waves.) Such is my sense with this situation, too. I want and need to meet people, converse with families, feel tension and paradox, empathize and feel suffering, and share and see hope.  That is what the ocean is for- it has great expanse to enfold me in the power and mystery of it all. Monday that immersion fully begins.

Knees first, and all of me now.

handbooks, handshakes, humans

Two of three days of orientation can be crossed off the calendar.  Such time has been like a fire hose with incredible amounts of information, procedures, and a good deal of internal reactions and surprises. Tuesday turned out to be a little tough due to sleep deprivation. All day we went through the handbook.  Infectious diseases can be cool, but even that half hour lecture had me nearly nodding off.  But still I had a special opportunity to meet and connect with my cohort of other interns- Tracy and Brother Donald- and hear wisdom from seasoned and passionate chaplains. I hope I retain such words, but by grace of one chaplain, we are to give ourselves, “Patience, patience, patience.”

Such advice I had to remember yet again today as we dove deeper into the training of chaplaincy. First was the hospital tour. Hospitals can be like malls- confusing layouts with elevators and stairs in random, hard to find spots, and only one food court.  Thankfully we shook some hands of security officers and charge nurses as be oriented ourselves to the units.  We got lost and found a couple times and followed the color tiles in the floor. It’s a bit like the yellow brick road but with a variety of colors designating the path to different units. We shared our faith maps with each other: the interns, residents, and our supervisor together, and then figured out our schedule for the next 3 months. I’m sure I’ll say more about it when the time comes, but one requirement is on-call duty from Friday, 5pm- Monday, 8am. And how will I get called? A pager! The technology still works AND is used!

The afternoon session comprised of a lesson and conversation about organ and tissue donation.  What a gift donation can be to people! What a scary decision that might seem to be for someone who just lost an unregistered loved one! In our training we walked through the careful donor plan, the benefits of donation, and the ways to have this conversation with families.  All of a sudden, life and my service at the hospital were real. Oh yeah- we are connecting with humans. I tried to role play and found my tongue tied and default words such as "humane" and "procedure" replacing more appropriate words of "care" and "offering." 

I realize even this story doesn’t exist in a vacuum. We are all dealing with hardships and suffering- some minor and other major. So to ramble on about recovering organ and tissue donations without affirming the human life that this might require or gift would miss the point.  At 4:23pm I felt that trembling heart of fear that what I say mattered and who I spoke to deserved more than a book answer.  Yes, the role-play lacked the reality of death. However, it did not fall short of being a keen reminder than handbooks are a tool to move into shaking a hand and speaking humbly of our humanity. 

Gate to Gate

“We will arrive in two hours, ten minutes, gate to gate,” chimed the flight attendant. In such time I would reach my destination in Denver, my new job, my new home. I realized with her words that the only other time I’ve flown one-way to my new home occurred back in July 2007 when I joined African Children’s Choir.  I have driven to every other new home I’ve ever had. Whether it was to college in Spokane, Zion National Park for a summer job, or just down the street to a new apartment, my journey has been a gradual move from one place to another. With these trips I often spent hours jamming to music and cruising through the nation’s diverse landscape. Those hours also gave me the luxury of great thinking time and a gradual shift into what would be a very different life.  This gate-to-gate transition, however, felt anything but gradual.

Life in general is very much like a gate-to-gate move. Out one slimy gate only to reach the pearly one somewhere on the time continuum.  Along the way we embrace, sometimes with boredom, the routines such as brushing our teeth, waking up for work, or smiling for pictures just as a flight attendant services on-flight beverages.  We meet a variety of people along the way, those who inspire us in conversation, simply want to yak our ear off, or glide on by in their parallel universe, ear buds in.  At moments (some longer than others) we endure turbulence or joyfully embrace the highlights along the way. With this new perspective, the trip I took this afternoon was a blip on the timeline, and yet the tears wanting to pop through their gates tell me otherwise. The expanse of my current gate-to-gate just doesn’t seem to be the right timing.

Throughout my life I’ve wanted weeks to speed toward Friday or days to slow down to a crawl. When I think about my vocation or God given purpose, I’m filled with urgency.  Tomorrow I will begin an internship that forces people to respond to an unexpected shift in their gate-to-gate journey. As a chaplain in a community hospital, I suspect to encounter people dealing with some very similar emotions and questions that I face during my two-hour flight.  At times the quick change of bodily and emotional wellness will be completely debilitating. In other circumstances, patients will have had time to get use to the idea of their illness and the consequences.

When I began this post, I didn’t quite get the significance of the gate-to-gate journey. I thought I was simply taking advantage of time-efficient machines and choosing to courageously leap from one life to another. Now I realize that this quick trip forced me to think differently about transitions, life experiences, and perspectives of our time on earth. I had tapped the reflective resources of the 13-hour drive routine to the next home.  Likewise, my emotional and experiential capacity to engage in my new destination will benefit from my quick airplane transition.

Over the next several days and weeks, I hope to share more reflections about life’s gate-to-gate experiences.  Not only does this allow me to engage with my present moments, but also I find it a special and helpful way to stay to connected to those far from my new home.  My days may become routine in my eyes, but hopefully I can continue to tap into reflective resources along the way.

Back from Camp(a) into Ciudad

July 22, 2013

A juxtaposition day names today well.  We culminated our trip in la campa this afternoon and returned to San Salvador in an air conditioned bus. Whoa! As one member said upon arriving at the guest house, "It's like the Taj Mahal." Fans in our room, flushing toilets, fixed walls and lights, and edible food no matter its temperature (outside the guesthouse, fresh veggies are out.) So the final hours in El Paisnal were bittersweet for some of us.  This connection with the Sister Church is the reason many of us came down, but the heat and the conditions are pressing us too.  I enjoyed my time there, but I was ready for the next leg of the adventure. I'm grateful my Spanish stuck with me especially in places where the English knowledge was very low. 

This evening with city sounds, quieter in some ways than those of the country were a nice change as we put our thoughts together and gathered for our first reflection time.  By the end of the week, reflection time might become our favorite part. 

Domingo Mejor (Sunday Best)

July 21, 2013

Domingo- there is nothing like it in El Paisnal.  A Catholic church dominates the "downtown" corner of this small village with its tangerine edifice and scary looking blonde Jesus on the front doors.  Apart from Sunday mass, the church serves as a place to pray and that's about it.  Buenas Nuevas is the other iglesia (church) in El Paisnal. 

Churches and its representatives, especially priests, have an interesting relationship in El Salvador.  During the late 1970s before the civil war in El Salvador officially began, priests were falling into (choosing) two camps.  One camp sided with the government and therefore the priests turned a blind eye to the oppression and violence occurring all around them and to their fellow countrymen.  The others sided with the people, but these priests were few and far between because a) they didn't have the courage b) they were "disappeared" or c) they were killed.  El Paisnal is a community that felt the daily suffering of the war which included many deaths and disappeared men and even families.  Rutilio Grande was one such priest, prominent throughout the Catholic establishment but especially vocal against the atrocities of the government.  He grew up in El Paisnal and often returned to celebrate mass at the church since their was no assigned priest at the time.  So upon a trip home, snipers killed him and two others in 1977.  From this time and into the war, the orange Catholic church shut its doors, wanting to reduce any fear or assumptions that it would be used by the government against the campasitas (country people).  Buenas Nuevas church with Pastor Chema existed in a small capacity as far as a infrastructure was concerned, but to this day, he and the church people live church IN their community, supporting and uplifting the people from their suffering.

This Sunday was no different to the mission of the church.  The new English teacher, Marvin, has really connected with the kids by taking them to the park on Sunday morning.  According to him, no one takes the children to the park and for him to invest the time and energy to toss a Frisbee creates great bonds.  Our group joined the kids and Marvin on a very hot and humid morning to throw Frisbees and play baseball. It was welcome recreation despite the heat (and my long skirt) especially since we had lunch quickly to follow.  In the midst of being with people, meals and sitting become the norm. 

Sunday service at 3pm could have been a real snore (hot and post lunch sitting) but our involvement singing/leading music (two songs in English and Spanish), Gregg's powerful sermon, prayer of blessing over our delegation and communion, the service ended up being very memorable.  The experience of sharing the Lord's prayer no matter what the language or communion no matter what the denominational affiliation created a real bond between us.

This night Mac and I stayed at a different family's home.  This family had 15 children, many living at home still or if not, replaced by grandchildren.  Either way, we met a lot of people, showed pictures of our small families and sang songs in Spanish and English...kind of. Their home was one big room the size of a typical living room with 6 large raised straw mats for beds, oh and a hammock.  They gave Mac and I each a bed while the small ones and a big one slept together.  I think one double size bed had 3 or 4 people on it.  The mom and 3 year old daughter slept in the hammock together from 8:30pm-4am.  Mac and I didn't get up that early, but when we did, the others had already prepared meals and began the day.  The "kitchen" consisted of a couple thin walls and tin roof adjacent to the cinder block home.  With little to offer in way of morning prep contribution, we played with a jump rope, snaking it on the ground for the little ones to jump.  Oh the glee was so beautiful to see. I want to bring joy to their life, and I think being able to host provided that despite the hardship it created.  That's a testament of love- tangible and explicate this trip.

Sister Church, Born of the Same Father

July 20, 2013
Welcome Everybody! This English greeting spoke volumes of the brothers and sisters of Buenas Nuevas Church in El Paisnal. The hugs, warm greetings of gratitude for our presence and partnership, and a sweet cup of fresh fruit for each of us invoked the beginning of genuine hospitality and delight for the nine "gringos." This sister church of Covenant UMC was greeting friends from another land, people they didn't know but hearts they did know. The beating of those hearts has been of one accord with Buenas Nuevas for the last 23 years so this reunion only reinforced the connection.

El Paisnal is a small country village north of San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. Like most campas (country towns) El Paisnal experienced a great deal of poverty, unemployment, absentee fathers, and very few educational opportunities not to mention the lack of interest from many families. However, this campa also featured deep connection with each other, especially through the church. Buenas Nuevas provides English and computer classes on the weekend for kids and adults, time to play in the park as kids should but never get to otherwise, and scholarship funds for 73 children both from the church and not. And so this community bond extended to us this warm (way hot and humid) Saturday afternoon. We partnered with the youth to make 3 cajones and hand drums and with the kids to make Easter egg shakers, color with chalk and blow bubbles. The camaraderie we felt with them felt very much like brothers and sisters playing together, sharing resources to make and do really fabulous things.

We paired up at night to venture off deeper into the neighborhood to spend the evening (which gets dark at 6:30) host families, most of whom didn't speak any English. I was grateful for my partner because Mac and I surprisingly speak ok Spanish, but when words don't come, our actions, sounds, and laughter make up for it. Plus, we took Skip-Bo to play with the family of 2 children and mom and dad. We all practiced our numbers and phrases for "It's your turn." or "Discard!" The sheets that separated the garage size house into rooms provided us privacy, but we were very aware of their care covering us.

Plane stretches

July 19, 2013
2:37am Creep out of bed, into the last warm shower for ten days.
3:43am Meet group with extra exuberance especially after hugging Angelika, my favorite German lady
7:13am Fall asleep on a parked plane that was suppose to leave at 6am, hence the extra early arrival for the international flight
12:06: Next flight out of Denver (no problem catching a new flight)
5:43: Eat Bourbon chicken and Diet soda with ice (both of which will be non-existent in Central America)
9:31pm(MST) Pass into El Salvador, my home away from home for an experience of fellowship, cultural encounters, and a transformation of my heart

Along with my brave husband and 7 other friends from Covenant UMC and Whitworth Presbyterian, I have come on this unique trip to visit Covenant's Sister Church and encounter El Salvador. The plane stretches worked out great- no cramps in my legs and easy connection in each airport. Despite the uncertainty of missing our first connection in Denver, things worked out in even better ways. I have a feeling this will be a theme for us. And so far, flexibility has been an abundant trait amongst us. God knows we'll have opportunities to practice flexibility some more.