This is the Thanksgiving Meditation I prepared for the 2020 Thanksgiving Service at the hospital. Unfortunately, the service was cancelled. I didn’t want the meditation to go to waste. As I reread it this morning, I realized I needed to hear the message more than I thought.Maybe someone else needs it, too.
lifeline
“If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” — Rabbi Harold Kushner
What can we say about 2020? We are standing here, just two days before Thanksgiving and the beginning of the holiday season. We are shaking our heads and wondering what can happen next, what can go wrong again? We struggle with finding hope, finding joy and finding gratitude given the year we have had. The emotions have been all over the place.
For example, have you felt any of these emotions?
Sadness
Grief
Anger
Depressed
Anxious
Fear
Disappointed
Stressed
Hate
Tired
Lonely
Worried
Lost
Confused
Hurt
Nervous
Empty
Shocked
Tense
Hopeless
If you have felt one, two, ten, or all of these emotions, that is completely understandable. This year has been a roller coaster of uncertainty and fear of not knowing what’s coming. With the holidays approaching, it may feel like we are on a downward spiral of emotions. The Holidays of 2020 won’t be the traditional ones that we are accustomed to. In order to protect our loved ones from illness, we may not have Thanksgiving in person this year. There are families who are divided and angry that they aren’t spending the time together. Many people have lost jobs and they don’t want to celebrate. Worst of all, many have lost loved ones that will never be seen during the holidays again. Yes, the emotions ran the gamut.
But, does it have to remain that way, the downward spiral of our spirits? What about other emotions. Have you felt any of the following uplifting emotions?
Happy
Inspired
Giddy
Hopeful
Peace
Grateful
Humbled
Determined
Optimistic
Courageous
Joyful
Silly
Loved
Blessed
Honored
Free
Appreciative
Accepted
Amused
Excited
What if we look back on 2020 differently? Can we look for the times when we experienced the uplifting emotions? Maybe someone in your family graduated from school or college. Did you get to spend more quality time with your children or parents at home? Did you learn new games or new information about your loved ones that you didn’t know? I started a new hobby that helps me to cope. Maybe you did, too. Did any friends or family get married? Had children? New pets in the home? Or a favorite of many, did someone make you laugh so hard that your gut and cheeks started to hurt.
As Rabbi Kushner reminds us, if we can concentrate on the good in any situation (and that includes 2020), we might begin to see things differently. During this Thanksgiving season let us change our focus. Let’s look at the year in a different light and see what good came from what we have experienced this year.
There are so many things that happened this year that were out of our control. We have to remember what we do have control of and that is our focus, our spirit, and yes, we also have control over ourselves. In the midst of broken traditions this year, let’s start a new one. Focus on something different. There is nothing or nobody that can change what you want to focus on if you don’t allow them. You can change your focus and remind yourself of the good that you experienced this year. You can change the focus and remind yourself of the uplifting emotions that you felt. You can look back and see the incredible strength and resilience that it took to make it through this challenging year.
Yes, Thanksgiving will look a little different this year.
The table may not look the same but with a resilient soul and strong faith, we can still set the table however we want to. As we plan the day, we can remember the good and how we felt and how we got through this year, stronger than ever. I have no doubt that as we remember, we will also find a renewed spirit, a sense of joy and a new found gratitude. I bet if we can do that, not only will the food nourish our body but finding gratitude will nourish your soul.
This is part 1 of 2 posts I will have on faith in healthcare. This first post is from article I submitted and that was originally published in The Community Magazine of the North Carolina Free Will Baptists Foundation.
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I was called to a patient’s room one evening. A patient, in the final stages of an incurable cancer, would not answer any of the medical team’s questions. He would not make any decisions about his medical care. For reasons clear and unclear, he was angry and bitter towards the team and family. The medical team recognized the emotional distress the patient was in and as a member of the interdisciplinary team, I was asked to talk with the patient.
The patient believed the cancer was a punishment from God. Not only did he think it was a punishment from God but he believed he deserved the pain and suffering that came with it. The patient had not forgiven himself for moments in his past and he was afraid he would go to hell. So by not making any medical decisions, he kept himself from going to hell and continued to punish himself in suffering.
We talked about suffering, forgiveness and healing. The patient was able to hear about and feel the presence of a loving God who loved this patient as a precious child. This precious child was worthy of forgiveness and a life that may have been filled with pain and suffering, did not have to end that way. He made some important decisions in the next few days and within a week, he died peacefully with family by his side and a heart free of pain and suffering. I have no doubt he was welcomed into Heaven and into the loving arms of Jesus Christ, who understood his suffering better than anyone.
The matriarch of the family had a brain injury. She was unresponsive and relied on a ventilator to breathe. The swelling increased and her body became dependent on medicines and machines to keep her alive. In a meeting with the family, they shared that the patient made her wishes clear a long time ago, when it came to her healthcare and healing. If her body were only alive because of machines and medicines, she wanted her family to free her of the pain and let her go to Heaven. In fact she stated, “Give me three days on the machines and if I don’t rise like Jesus or Lazarus, let me go.”
The team acknowledged and respected the faithful decisions of the patient and family. In the time allowed, the team and family worked together to do all they could for the patient’s care and wellbeing. Three days later, there was still no improvement in the patient. Her family, her children and grandchildren, were taught about faith from this matriarch. They agreed with the patient’s wishes. Aggressive measures were stopped and the ventilator (or mechanical support as I like to call it) was removed. She passed away peacefully and surrounded by family (or her life support as I like to call it). The matriarch became the miracle they prayed for, completely healed in heaven.
I share these two stories because they are two extreme differences in faith. One faith could have made the patient suffer a painful life and an equally painful death if he wasn’t reminded of God’s love and grace. The other faith knew that death was a part of life and that God provided for both, a life on earth and a life in heaven. I share these two stories as examples of how faith can have an impact on healthcare. As patients, families and medical teams journey through the life of healthcare and healing, the role of faith has become an integral part of the holistic plan of care.
Hospitals and physicians have recognized that in caring for the patient it is important to provide holistic care, recognizing that faith and spirituality are important factors in the care of a patient. It is so important that the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organization now requires healthcare organizations to include a spiritual assessment in the care of patients. That requirement can include professional chaplains as members of the healthcare team.
As a board certified hospital chaplain, I see every single day how faith has been an important factor in a patient’s life; and many times, the most important factor. More and more, patients acknowledge that their faith and spirituality are needed coping mechanisms in their wellbeing and in their healing. Their faith has provided them a strong prayer life, using spiritual practices from their faith tradition; practices that bring them comfort, assurance and hope. Their faith reminds them of the need for a strong support system from their family, friends and their faith community. Their faith reminds them that God is there, when they are weary and burdened, in need of healing and rest.
When you are in the hospital, you are in a vulnerable state of being. You are humbled into the confines of a hospital room, where you have to rely on other people to take care of you. You also have to let go of any control that you might have in the uncontrollable. Your faith will allow you to see how God is able to provide in the midst of your vulnerability because you are having to fully rely on God, in ways you never imagined or were prepared for.
That faith can help a patient, as it did with the matriarch I mentioned earlier. Her faith was undeniable. Her faith was in her life, in her teaching, in her work and in the raising of her family. She shared every part of her faith and trust in God with her family. That trust included the fact that God had control of her life and that death is a part of life. Her faith directed her Living Will and her medical decisions. Her life was already led by God and she wanted to put her death in God’s hands, too.
Faith can be incredibly helpful but it can be deeply painful, if misunderstood. In times of trauma, pain, suffering and critical need, faith can bring about emotional and spiritual distress as it did with the story of the first patient. At some point in his life, his faith taught him that God punishes people, God gives cancer, and that people (no matter how human) deserve painful suffering and death, with no forgiveness or grace.
Faith can also be misused. I have seen patients with traumatic injuries and incurable diseases who struggled with the “why” of it all. They would ask me questions, “Did I not pray enough?…Did I not go to church enough?” They wondered if they had a stroke because they didn’t go to church. They wondered if they have this disease because they killed people when they served in the military and this was God’s punishment. I’ve even heard their pastors come to visit and say to the patient or family, “You’ve got to pray harder…You need to have more faith….God needed that precious angel (after the death of a child) and your little girl was the next flower God needed to pick.” Talk about a faith misused.
As a chaplain, I am asked more often than not, “Why did this happen?”. When I am asked “why,” my one and only response will always be, “I don’t know.” I don’t know why things happen. Cancers happen. Traumas happen. Disease happens. What I do know is suffering is not a punishment of any sort. Suffering and death are a part of life, even for the most faithful. For Christians, I remind them that Jesus suffered, not only on the cross but also in Gethsemane. Jesus called out to God in distress and questioned God’s will. In the garden, he cried out, “If it is your will, take this cup from me”. While on the cross, in his most vulnerable moment, he asked, “Why have you forsaken me?” It is through Jesus’s agony we are reminded that we are not alone in our suffering.
Proverbs 3:5-6: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.
Jesus reminds me of Proverbs 3:5-6. We’ve got to trust God, even in the midst of all the unanswerable, we’ve got to trust that God will be with us in the vulnerability. God didn’t give him cancer, but who is providing meals in the middle of the treatments? God didn’t cause the car collision but who is helping with the physical therapy? God didn’t take that little girl but who is holding dad’s hand in the midst of the grief? And as we acknowledge God in all of our ways, whether in joy and happiness or anger and sadness, who is right there, hearing every word, feeling every pain, and holding every tear?
Every day, I am reminded that faith can be a coping tool, a medicine if you will, that can bring comfort in the midst of the vulnerability. I am grateful to work with medical teams and healthcare organizations that recognize the importance of the holistic care of patients and families. I meet patients and families in their Gethsemane every day. It’s incredibly humbling to walk with them on this journey even when we don’t know how it will end. Whether the end of the hospital stay includes seeing a on this earth or one of complete healing in heaven, it will be a beautiful and comforting sight, for the patient and the family.
I’m often asked that question or some variation of it: “Do you love your job” or “I bet you really enjoy your work”. The first few times I was asked, I, of course, said yes. But after some time, I realized that I was wrong. I don’t love my job.
Some people get chaplaincy mixed up with being a pastor or minister. Maybe they thought I did the same thing as a pastor of a church. Well, I don’t. A minister/pastor and chaplain are completely different things but that’s a post for another day.
Chaplaincy is an entirely different calling. It’s an experience that I don’t “love” taking part in. I am a chaplain for a level 1 trauma center and what I see day in and day out would normally make you want to turn away from this job.
Chaplaincy is a difficult role to carry on a regular basis. I see the results of car collisions. I’ve sat with guilt ridden drunk drivers who I’ve had to comfort as they found out they caused a fatality; yet don’t remember a thing about that day. There have been teenage texters in the emergency room, who had no idea the death was their responsibility. Sweet children who were not properly restrained and I’m begging to hear them cry in the trauma bay. I’ve met motorcyclists who had to have a leg amputated because the car didn’t see the motorcycle entering the intersection. I stood next to a father and husband, who lost his daughter at the scene of a car collision and his wife who later died in the ICU. Then the next day, I consoled the driver of the other car, after the officers informed him of the fatalities he caused. With these experiences, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as a car “accident”. There is always something that caused the collision to happen, that could have been prevented.
I met 30 to 40 year old individuals who were having fun at the lake and after diving head first, became quadraplegic. Hunters who were anticipating their first 8 point buck for the season, only to have broken legs or ankles after the tree stand collapsed. There have been farm workers who were working with broken equipment, who were injured when the equipment fell on them; arms that were crushed when they slipped. I’ve met 80+ year old independent individuals who fell when going to get the mail that morning and that evening, were surrounded by family at the hospital as they passed away. Families and patients, who one minute were doing normal, everyday things, and in one split second, their lives were completely changed.
It is difficult to love a job when I am sitting next to a mother and i have to tell her she can’t see her son because his body is now evidence in a murder investigation. It’s hard when I can still hear the blood curdling screams of 30+ family members who found out their loved one died after a vicious attack. I’ve sat with families who replay their lives over and over, wondering if they could have seen the signs and been able to stop their 21 year old from shooting herself in the head. I’ve asked the police to allow the father to hear how his 3 year old son is doing in surgery before they arrest him, because the three year old found his dad’s gun and accidentally shot himself. I’ve stood next to a 93 year old man, who shot himself to try and end his pain. He removed his oxygen mask and begged me to let him die.
I don’t love my job but it is truly a gift to watch the teams I work with do the work that they do. It is humbling to watch them maneuvering through unexpected events and making split second decisions they have no time to think about. They save lives every single day, from doing CPR at bedside to opening a chest cavity in the trauma bay. I’ve stood with the surgeons whom after surgery were able to inform families that their loved one was still alive, despite the multiple gun shot wounds. I’ve stood with those same surgeons when they had to tell the families they did all they could do but it wasn’t enough to save them. You will never be able to understand what it is like to be there, unless you have been there. I am honored to be there with them, standing side by side. I am a part of these teams. I am in the trenches with them. I am honored to be in their vulnerable moments, just as they are in mine.
I don’t love my job. I will never be able to say that. However, I can say with full certainty, that I am humbled and honored to do the work that I do. To sit with all of those I’ve mentioned and not be touched by their grief, pain, uncertainty and life; I would be inhuman. What an honor it is to be present with a patient or a family member, in their most vulnerable state, in their weakest moments. Every day, I am placed in situations I’ve never been. I’ve seen things that I never imagined I would see in a lifetime. I’ve heard sounds that I cannot get out of my head. There have been many times that I finished my shift and called out to God, “Lord, I have no idea how I got through this time but somehow you carried me through, with the words to say and the space in which to say them. Thank you.”
I am only one chaplain. There are many others, across the country and around the world, who do this incredibly difficult work. October is Pastoral Care Month and next week, October 25-31, is Spiritual Care Week. If you know a chaplain or work with one, please thank them for the services they provide. We certainly don’t do this work for recognition but it does help to know we are respected and recognized as an integral part of an extraordinary team of clinicians, committed to the holistic care of patients and families.
I don’t love my job but I am incredibly humbled and honored to do this work, with these people, at every opportunity provided.
Being a chaplain for trauma patients and families is not easy. I meet them in the emergency department and then continue to follow them in the ICU to keep a continuity of care flowing as much as possible. Trauma is a different beast all together and it takes a certain spirit and heart to work with this community.
Those of us who work in trauma have a unique gift of strength and resilience. Trauma is not for wimps. A former chaplain resident I mentored called me “hardcore”. You see things you never imagined you would ever see. You hear pain that you’ve never experienced in your life. It’s challenging all the time. It’s difficult most of the time. And it’s heartbreaking a lot of the time. It’s deeply humbling to walk along side each patient and family member I meet. I am incredibly grateful to work beside the ED and Trauma Teams as we walk in the trenches together.
There is one particular population that I am quite sensitive to; a population I see all too often – patients who’ve attempted to die by suicide. When I say I see them a lot, I am not exaggerating. I’ve seen patients as young as 12 to as old as 93. This year alone, i’ve faced a 12 year old child and 78 year old adult and plenty of ages in-between. There are too many. Unfortunately, many accomplish their goal but not without our team trying everything humanly possible to save them. They die while hearing the screams of their family members crying out for answers as their loved ones take their last breaths. There are many things I can’t do and on top of that list is responding their “why” question. I will never be able to answer them.
The question “why” is more complicated than you think, especially for people of faith. When a family is dealing with the trauma of their loved one (any kind of trauma), I often hear, “I don’t know how people who don’t know God, get through this.” Their faith allows them to cope and survive through the challenges of trauma. However, faith and suicide have a different relationship. For families of suicide patients, faith is another dimension of struggle and pain. There is a level of unwarrented shame and misunderstanding. I met a family deeply devoted in their faith, who lost a loved one to suicide. Their faith caused more pain because the older generation in this family could not acknowledge the suicide. “We went to church. We prayed. We were happy. There has to be something else that caused this. We are not going to tell anyone what happened.” The pain and anger within their broken hearts kept them from seeing beyond their faith.
Faith becomes a struggle when the pastor tells the family, “Are you going to believe the doctors or are you going to trust God?” They demand the families to “pray harder…call out to God..repent for your lack of trust…God will save him..you’ve just got to believe harder.” Those are actual statements I heard from a “pastor”. I cried after that individual poured the salt of shame and guilt into the open wounds of the family. I could see the pain in their faces. They were already grieving the anticipated death of their child. This pastor’s rant made them grieve a loss of their faith, at least what the pastor thought was lost. The patient died that night, after shooting himself through the side of his head with the bullet hitting both hemispheres of the brain. The metal escaped through the other side of the brain but not before causing irreparable damage, a “non-survivable injury”. The only reason I share the specifics of the injury is to help you understand that a patient will NOT come back from this. There will not be the miracle of complete healing. They will die. Even if the body survives, they are already gone. The pastor would not accept that but instead of being the pastor the family needed, he was so much worse. He caused irreparable damage, too. I can only imagine what he said at the funeral service. Why do pastors do that to their flock? How can they inflict so much pain and guilt into the families that trust the pastor with their faith? I will never be able to understand.
There is another level of shame that needs healing. Suicide comes from a deep, dark pain from within the souls of those who are hurting. The pain is so dark that they are willing to do just about anything to stop the pain. It’s a pain so deep they can’t carry it anymore. The pain is nothing to be ashamed of. This darkness is a cancer, it’s a disease, just like heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, etc..that needs to be treated. It is depression and anxiety. It is loneliness and grief. It is aloneness and a loss of control. God knows it’s real. God gets that. God feels our pain. There is no god i know that would brush away the pain of one of his children. God would not shame or sentence their child to hell. No earthly parent should feel that way either.
There is nothing shameful in regards to suicide. Painful, yes. Shameful, no. A patient who shot himself in the chest, removed his oxygen mask and cried out to me, “Just let me die.” The pain in his voice was heartbreaking and painstakingly real. I spoke with his sister who would not accept that this was a suicide attempt. She told the family they were not allowed to share what really happened. She was ashamed of it; likely because of the stigma she grew up with as well as some struggle with her faith. I talked with her about that shame and explained what I shared above. She listened but did not verbally respond. I could tell she was thinking. A couple of months after her brother’s death, she returned to the hospital. She thanked me for explaining the pain that he brother felt. I suspect she knew the pain was there all along. Our conversation helped to free her brother and ultimately, herself, from the shame of depression, pain and suicide. She was able to learn more about her brother’s tragedy and pain and help others understand it, too.
Suicide is real. Depression and anxiety are real. Loneliness is real. Pain is real. People struggle every single day with the darkness that has taken control of their lives. The one way they can gain back any control is to do the only thing that will take away all the pain. I get it. I get it more than you can imagine. If you feel that pain, please reach out. Call the Suicide hotline, meet with your doctor. Request a counselor. If your pastor is a safe person to talk to, meet with him or her. find someone to help carry the yoke with you. Don’t be ashamed.
Life is a continuous struggle for someone in immense pain. Faith should never be a conduit of that darkness. Faith should be the one constant place where you can find a glimpse of light that will guide you through the wilderness and the valley, where you can fight to live another day.
No matter how big the call, no matter how small, you have no idea what God is calling you to do, but God needs you. He needs me. He needs all of us. -Fr Mychal Judge (From his last homily, Sept 10, 2011)
I come into these walls, Unknown of what the day will hold. Uncertain of where God Will guide my path.
I have no idea Where I will go Or what I will do, When I walk these halls.
I know I am called here For those in despair, For those in celebration, And for those in grief.
I am called to be here for You, And I am humbled.
I am humbled by these moments. When I enter a room, I am a presence, a healing touch, A comforting word, or a moment of grace.
I am humbled by these moments. When I celebrate life, mourn death, Standing in awe of resurrection and I wonder How is this even possible?
I am humbled by these moments. As I enter these walls, For You have asked me to.
I come to You this day and ask for your healing touch, Your comforting words and your moments of grace; To reassure me, hold me, and provide whatever I need, So I may be that presence for You.
I am humbled and ask You now; Hold me, guide me, and carry me As I enter this day with You. Amen.
Update: this post was written a week ago. I just got to posting it today. Vacation is over and I am back at work. By the end of my vacation week, I threw out 16 garbage bags and 7 boxes of files.
I am on “vacation” this week from work. there are quotes around “vacation” because I don’t believe that’s what’s going on. I am away from the hospital but not in a relaxing setting, like the mountains or the beach. Instead, i am at home. However, i made that decision and it was the right one. If I had gone to the beach, rest would have been interrupted by a hurricane. if i had gone to the mountains, money would have stopped the enjoyment. So what did i do? I decluttered.
Well, I am not done. As I am writing this, i am sitting in a laundry mat washing two big quilts. I am on day 6 of a 12 day break. I have succeeded in three days of decluttering my home, with just a few more things to do. Even though my entire body hurts, it has been incredibly therapeutic. I believe i have decluttered more than just my home. i just might be decluttering what’s going on inside my soul. Oh, i pray that’s what i am doing.
If you don’t work in a hospital, you can only imagine what the last 6 months have been like; taking care of Covid+ patients and families not being able to be at bedside. Oh, and don’t forget all the other patients in hospital, too. Cancer, traumas, transplants, labor and delivery, cardiac arrests, CHF, pneumonia, pediatrics, and the list goes on. Working with few breaks, clinical hospital staff are giving everything they’ve got; all the while trying to protect one another from the virus and sacrificing time with families, in order to protect them, too.
Add to this, the fact that we are isolated from society with social distancing, newly fashioned face masks and not being able to travel anywhere without being questioned. For an introvert like me, this is a dream come true but i am actually hurting from the social distancing. No contact with life outside of this work can get to an introvert, even the most extreme.
A lot can happen to your soul during this time, when all the challenging elements are at play. With all that’s going on, death still happens. Traumas still carry on and we are face to face with all of it, every single day. There have been many days we represented the families that were not allowed in.
I heard a phrase this morning on a podcast, “emotional obesity”. (Marc Maron with Helen Mirren) I had to stop what I was doing to hear it again, “emotional obesity”. Based on my medical records, I understand “obesity”. Based on my counselor’s notes, I know “emotional” fairly well. I’ve never considered them together in one phrase but that could be what I am dealing with. The moderator mentioned that “emotional obesity” is the result of stuffing the emotions down your throat, shoving them as far down as you can that you’re not able to release them in a healthy way. I can imagine the emotions being pushed so far into the depths of the soul that they ooze into the darkened creases and crevasses. They get trapped, with nowhere to go. The tunnels in the crevasses clog like the arteries near your heart and what happens when the arteries get clogged? Well, imagine when the arteries of the soul get clogged with emotions. Can you tell I work in a hospital? lol
This work is hard. You don’t want to know what a chaplain experiences day in and day out, especially during this crazy time of Covid. It’s the extra crispy flour and grease that come with an already saturated day-to-day calling. The sights and sounds don’t leave me when i walk out of the hospital. They don’t come off as easily as my clothes do, when standing in front of the washing machine to wash out any lingering residue. How I wish I could wash out the screams and pain.
Emotional obesity. That maybe why I am feeling as heavy as I am. The last few months, shoot, the last few years, have been brutal and without appropriate self-care techniques in place, like going to the gym after work, where do i exercise to release the emotions? Who am I kidding? I know better than that. The gyms are closed but I can still find ways around the block. I can’t blame the gyms. I can’t blame the “Rona”. My body hurts and it’s more than just weight gain and muscle tension. Oddly enough, due to some minor health issues, i have lost some weight in the last few months. With that said, why do I feel so heavy now?
In a few days of decluttering, I have thrown out 10 garbage bags of “stuff” and 4 boxes of files. It has been incredibly therapeutic. Who knew?
This Chaplain's Journey 