Caution Sign

Which I first typo-ed as "caution sigh," possibly a more accurate title.

I know I'm overdue for a little R&R when a darling staffer compliments my outfit, and rather than believing it, all I can think of is, "wow, it was really sweet of one of the cool kids to try to be nice to me."

I need a break, y'all.  When my 12-year-old self is speaking up, it's time to regroup.



Just a quick note to tell you that my CPE colleagues make me feel good about the future of the church.  I grumble a lot that Jimmy Buffett was right-- religion IS in the hands of some crazy-ass people.  Still, this bunch gives me hope.  It's fun and exciting and energizing to work with them.

Also-- I love being in the Emergency Department.  No kidding, love it.  Also on the other floors.  And in the elevators.

This summer is awesome.  The schedule stinks, but I can't remember the last time I was so relaxed, satisfied, excited.  As much as I love classes, it's going to be hard to go back to school.  EXCEPT, that I get to do field ed at the hospital, AND part of that will be research, which I am ALSO going to love.

Happy little clam over here.


Ease Up

In an afternoon CPE session, one of our supervisors did a class on how often shame comes up when we as chaplains talk with patients.  She talked to us about some themes that might indicate shame was part of the conversation.  Since I'd heard many of those things in my visits with patients, I asked for further reading.  She lent me three books by Alice Miller: The Body Never Lies, The Drama of the Gifted Child, and For Your Own Good.  "These might be hard for you, I think it may be painful material," she said.

"No problem.  I can handle hard.  I like to learn."

I can handle hard, but after getting halfway through the second book, it occurred to me that there's a fine line between hard and torturing oneself.  I'm barreling head-first into heavy stuff in CPE supervision (because it matters, because it's important, because I'm terrified of the kind of damage we can do if we don't deal with our stuff).  I'm about to change spiritual directors.  Dave's out of town for chunks of time.  I haven't seen most of my friends in... no, let's not count.  I can do hard things, but let's not do them all at once.  

I'm going to go find one of Dave's old Calvin and Hobbes collections, and put Alice Miller on a to-read list for later.  If you're wrestling with your own heavy stuff, I'll scootch over on the couch, and let you leaf through the Peanuts books.


A Wee Update

  • I love being at the hospital,
  • but swing shifts are kicking my butt.
  • I badly, badly miss friend time,
  • and I can't wait to have an afternoon with a full teapot and a box of stationery.
  • 12 shifts left.
  • There's a lot of laughter among chaplains-- I'm happy about that.
  • I've got some very, very funny stories now.  None of which I'm going to tell on the internet.
  • I'm a little sad that my favorite season has whooshed by while I've been indoors.
Isn't that a wimpy little update?  What's going on in your summer?


70 x 7

I had a conversation with a fellow intern recently, and it had me thinking about debts and forgiveness.

If a bank forgives my loan, they don't (as part of the deal) give me more money. They just agree not to make me pay. I've somehow learned a definition of forgiveness that involves the forgiver continuing to give. When I think in terms of monetary debts, that makes no sense. Who would say, "You couldn't repay me, so please take another loan"? If I work to improve my credit score, they'll lend again-- but if I continue in a way that would leave them empty-handed, no wise bank would sign another note for me. Even the famous prodigal son gets his father's love-- but he doesn't get a second inheritance.

God's grace is deep, and we're called to mirror that grace, but I don't think I believe it requires us to continually offer to be shortchanged.