It has taken me over two months to even BEGIN to process all that took place during my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) this past summer at Littleton Adventist Hospital in Colorado. What a gift it was to worship at my home congregation of Bethany Lutheran Church on so many occasions, even if I was called to the hospital during multiple services!
CPE is a requirement for all seminary
students, and includes direct instruction, small-group time, conferencing,
counseling, de-briefing, and a TON of time with real patients in real
situations on REAL days of their lives. While
I might have been practicing this new call of Pastor and Chaplain, the people I
met this summer were experiencing their lives changing in front of their
eyes. This wasn’t a practice or dress rehearsal
for them, and as a Chaplain I had a front-row seat to all of the drama, the
pain, the joy, and certainly, to all of the emotion.
Among
the millions of things I learned
how to do this summer,
how to do this summer,
there are a few things that
nobody told me:
…what it would feel like when
someone's heart actually stopped beating.
…how important it was to meet with
my pastors over the summer.
…I'd find myself assisting EMTs at
a motorcycle accident on I-25.
…what the faces of ER staff would
look like when they were unable to save a patient.
…how helpful it was to hear the
laughter of children.
…just how tiny a miscarried baby
would be.
…that Chaplains are bouncers when
it comes to unruly or unwanted visitors.
Nobody told me…
…what a Godsend it would be to
return home to Susan each night.
…that burying multiple Bethany friends
this summer would only add to the heartache.
…how incredibly unhelpful
printed books and resources would be when it came time to actually offer comfort.
…that when everyone else walks out
of a room, a Chaplain walks in.
Nobody told me…
…that sometimes tears were the only
answer.
…that I can now smell death the
moment I walk onto a floor.
…what a joy it would be to sit and
chat with Bethany members
…that a drunk visitor would pull a
knife on me (which the teacher in me immediately and safely confiscated).
Nobody told me…
…just how healing the Rocky
Mountains would be this summer.
…how useful my many years of
teaching would be when it came to negotiating end-of-life decisions with
families.
…what it would feel like to hold a
mother as her child died.
…that sunsets and sunrises would be
healing balm for my soul.
Nobody told me…
…about the wounding and breaking of
my heart when the abandoned infant, whom we had cared for so deeply, died in
our arms at 45 days old. Rest in peace, sweet Adriana.
…that as Chaplains, we literally
deliver the remains of the miscarried children to the local mortuary, where they lay those sweet and deeply-loved babies to rest.
…that my colleagues would be so
caring and loving and genuine.
Nobody told me…
…that a sense of humor is a MUST.
…that teaching piano lessons would
actually be a welcome escape.
…just how cold and cramped a morgue
really is.
…that I will detest the sound of a
beeper for the rest of my life.
…how fulfilling it felt to sit
beside those awaiting surgery, holding their hands, and quelling their
fears.
…how peaceful death can be.
...that my hair would literally turn grey...er...SILVER this summer. Truly.
...that my hair would literally turn grey...er...SILVER this summer. Truly.
…how much food a family needs while
waiting for their loved one to die.
…what courage it would take to
press SEND on the phone when calling a family to notify them that their loved
one had just died.
…the stamina (and stomach) one
needs when walking into the ER and greeting a patient...and their gruesome injury.
…that heroin is a true enemy in
this state.
Nobody told me…
…how refreshing it was to welcome
visitors for lunch, filling my cup with joy again.
… I'd be coaching people out of
committing suicide. Often.
…that even Atheists want Chaplains
to stay in their rooms and listen to their story.
…that the sound of a helicopter or
ambulance will continue to take my breath away.
…how predictable and unique each
and every death truly is.
…that even someone with this much
energy has the
capacity to quietly and compassionately minister to those in
need.
…just how splashed with grace I
would be by the
patients who kindly received
me into their rooms and their lives.
…how the Holy Spirit would move
amongst ALL of the workers at the hospital
…what holy ground I'd be walking
upon.
Nobody told me…
…that this was the summer I was to become a Pastor.
2 comments:
Wow, Brenda! I had no idea what your work involved. I'm so touched by your words and feel so many were/are lucky to have you in their lives.
A Pastor and an Angel, all rolled into one! Thank you for taking on all those challenges. Keep up the great work.
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