Lenten Challenge, 2015

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have noticed a reoccurring theme in my pictures the past few weeks: there's been a ton of food pictures, and mostly fruits and vegetables.  The hashtags* for these posts have included: #eatyoveggies, #lentenchallenge, and #healthyseminarian. 

 (*hashtags defined as a word or an unspaced phrase prefixed with the hash character (or number sign) to form a label, thank you wikipedia)

Banana, Edamame, Spicy Baked Sweet Potato Fries

This has been my Lenten practice this year. Not the food pictures or hashtags, but the incorporation of fruits and vegetables into my daily eating.

You might wonder what in the world possessed me to take on this challenge. It started with a message on our campus from our Healthy Seminarians-Healthy Church Initiative Group:

Lenten “Fruit & Vegetable Tracking” Team Challenge!

Tired of giving up chocolate for Lent? Want a more fruitful way of observing the season? Consider participating in this 40-day challenge. Here is how it works:

• Register to participate 

• Everyone will be randomly placed in teams of four.

• Each week during Lent, everyone will keep track of their fruit and vegetable consumption via the tracking forms e-mailed to you by Karen.

• The team that has the best average* during Lent wins a prize!

Tomato, basil, and fresh mozzarella

Why are we doing this? Because most people in the United States do not meet the minimum daily requirements of fruit and vegetable consumption. Adult daily intake should be between 7-11 servings based on age and activity level. However, adults are currently consuming approximately 1 serving of fruit and 1.5 servings of vegetables a day.

* Since we don’t want to promote over consumption, everyone will be given a target number based on age and activity level. Plus, everyone will be able to earn extra points for consuming local and in-season produce. 

I was intrigued by this challenge, and had been wondering what I would do for my Lenten practice this year.  In the past, I've taken on things, such as daily journaling or not eating fast food.  I've never fully succeeded and often ended up walking through Lent with feelings of shame and failure as opposed to focusing on what draws me towards Christ.


I talked with some of my friends and somehow we all convinced each other to do this together.  So, I signed up and sent my age and daily workout goals to Karen, who is the Healthy Seminarians – Healthy Church Initiative Executive Director, and she calculated what my daily goal of fruits and vegetables should be. 

The goal: 9 - 4 servings of fruit and 5 servings of vegetables, daily.  

Complex (kidding!) system of keeping track.

I'm not going to lie, the first couple of weeks were hard. In fact, they kind of sucked. I was constantly thinking of food, and what food I was going to eat, and how to plan out my snacks and what to eat when and where, and when would I find the time to choke down carrots and celery!   

And then, I realized I should be doing what I already love to do - cook - and just see how I could adapt the recipes for some more veggies.  This was a pivotal moment in this Lenten journey - I started enjoying getting these fruits and veggies in.  

Asparagus wrapped in bacon, with Parmesan

 I'm not going to lie, not only have my veggies and fruits been higher, but my bacon intake has risen significantly, as I've wrapped MANY a vegetables in this delicious product.  I also feel like I've been reintroduced to my vegetables and fruits.  Somewhere in my thirty years of living, I forgot the potential and just how tasty the fruits (and vegetables) of the earth are.  

There have been times my meals have been so simple that they seem childish at times, full of color and taste, and kind of fun to eat:

Edamame, grapes, baby peppers, and celery

There have been other times when I've been super impressed by my own ability to follow instructions and create meals that seem almost gourmet by some standards:

Sweet potato hash with kale, bacon, and an egg

I've cooked for others - one of my favorites has been the Vegetable Fried Rice from the Thug Kitchen cookbook.  (I've of course adapted it, and added an egg on top, which seems to be the story of my life.)

Veggie Fried Rice, adapted from Thug Kitchen

I've been more conscious of what I'm eating, at first just in terms getting the fruits and veggies in, but as it has progressed, what is in season, what is sustainable, and what my body needs. There are a few things I've learned while on this Lenten journey I thought I would share:

1. Everything is better when you have a partner or team. 

My roommate is participating in this challenge, and we happen to be on the same team.  It has been so much fun to brainstorm, whine a little bit, share our celebrations, and just have someone who knows what I'm doing and doesn't think it is crazy when at 11:00 pm I am heating up a bowl of mixed veggies for my bedtime snack.  I haven't had a spiritual discipline that has had this kind of partnership involved, where there is a team to encourage one another, and where even encouragement from other teams, all for the sake of reaching our goals.  It has made this journey a sharing experience, and we all know, I'm a sharer. 

Food Deserts according to USDA ERS; yellow star is CTS.

2. Injustice exists in our supermarkets - food deserts are real.

Where I live in Decatur, I have a couple of options on where to spend my money.  If I go to downtown Decatur, there's Baby Kroger, where the produce aisle is the size of the kitchen in our apartment (medium size) and has either very fresh or very old produce.  Then, if I go about three miles north, I'm at the Big Kroger - which has recently been remodeled and now hosts one of the largest organics section out of all my Kroger's. For the most part, this Kroger is super stocked, super clean, and full of super helpful people to meet my needs.  I love this Kroger for so many reasons.  But I struggle, because the Kroger I most often go to is one mile from my home.  And this Kroger is of a different feel and it definitely caters to a different crowd.  There is a barber, beauty shop, and nail salon and some other residences in this Kroger.  I feel loyal to this Kroger, but have noticed a profound difference in their produce and their product placements.  If the saying, "we are what we eat" is a true statement, these stores are catering to their "majority demographic".  Of course if I had the option between a brown and bruised apple and a Little Debbie apple cake, I'm going with Little Debbie.  I've been continually frustrated on this Lenten journey how socioeconomic status have determined for many what diet they should follow. 

Afternoon smoothie with some almond M&M's

3. It is all about balance. 

I'm not going to lie - one of my first thoughts in this challenge was how would I get to eat all those things I love eating - bread - sweets - things that don't always have vegetables.  Well - it's about balance.  I didn't just stop eating all that junk (that I love so dearly). What I did start doing was just negotiating it all - going out to a restaurant?  The occasional times that I eat out, I make the decision to have a side salad with my entree. No lie, there have been times it's been contested what actually fits into those fruit and vegetable categories.  (And no, fried sweet potato fries do not...baked, maybe...) What I have noticed is that I don't want all those things as much. Many of you know I always have my M&M jar - I've still got it!  But I don't just choose the M&M's - I go for the grapes or I go for the carrots with some hummus.  These little steps of incorporating veggies and fruits has made me not want to "waste" my day by just eating maybe not the best kind of foods for you, especially late at night.  I'd heard a rumor that if you change some of your eating habits, you don't crave certain things you did before.  This has proven true - now when I want sugar, I am satisfied with an apple and some almond butter.*

*Confession: I totally made zucchini chocolate chip bread this week that is PHENOMENAL. 
So, once again, negotiating. 

4. I'm more aware of God's good creation.
Anyone who has gone on a walk with me might remember I stop often, especially if there is some sort of bird or puppy or something colorful to look at.  I still do these things. And now, I do these things when I eat.  I've always enjoyed food - I've loved cooking and baking, but there seems to be a deeper understanding when I bite into some perfectly ripe produce. With the start of strawberry season, I sometimes feel like I am eating sunshine- they are just so darn good. Never has Psalm 24:1 seemed more true, "the earth is the Lord's and all it contains". As I wash the produce, I think of all the hands that have worked to get it to my kitchen here in Decatur - those who have planted, have nurtured, picked, boxed, and made it possible for this little bit of sunshine to show up in my kitchen. I'm working towards sustaining a budget where I can buy produce that comes with no guilt - that is supported by fair wages and sustainable practices.  With the nicer weather, our local Farmer's Market is starting back up, and I'm looking forward to meeting the faces of those who call this their vocation.

5. This is a sustainable practice. 
Just as fasting is a spiritual discipline, I've noticed so is eating. I am more aware of what is on my table, of what is going into my body, and how my body feels in participating in this challenge.  Am I going to become a vegetarian? Most likely not.  (See above comment on eggs and bacon.)  What I am is more aware of what I am saying is important in what I purchase.  I've had MORE trips to the grocery store that have had NO processed foods than ones that have.  This is exciting for me!  These small, daily decisions to not only eat a certain way, but also to compost, encourage others in their eating habits, and eat in season are sustainable. While I have been quite motivated by the point system in the challenge, I stopped caring about points a few weeks ago and just love these new eating habits. I love that I open my veggie drawer and see endless possibilities, and not something to fear.  I love that I have tried quite a few new recipes - some which have FAILED and some which have been huge successes.  I'm so proud that at the ripe old age of 30, I eat roasted brussel sprouts like some people eat popcorn. (THEY WERE SO GOOD.  LIKE WRITE HOME TO YOUR MAMA GOOD.) I love that I stop and pause in my busy days to notice the beauty that comes in the mundane, such as the end bits of celery.

Have I had any huge revelations along this journey towards the cross?
Nothing huge - but definitely life changing. How I eat is a reflection of how I see Christ at work in the world. I think Jesus would be behind fair wages for farm workers. I'm pretty certain Jesus would weep that not all his children could enjoy the literal fruits of God's creation. I think Jesus would have some words to say on how our neighborhoods and grocery stores are shaped by economics and not necessarily need. This somewhat simple journey of eating fruits and 
vegetables has been one filled with joy and misery (the day I ate too much kale...)
It has been a journey that has shifted from what is easy and cheap to one that is thoughtful and demands a bit of work.  It has been fun and it has been a bit childlike at times. It's led to many interesting conversations that take me outside my walls of comfort in meaningful ways.

Typical breakfast: avocado toast with tomato

As we move towards the cross this week, here is a reflection shared by the Iona Community from "A Chaos of Uncalculating Love" by George Macleod :

In the temple You threw out the money changers, Lord Christ:

down the steps and out of the door –

and into the vacant aisles came the children

shouting for joy and dancing round.

Too often we are the money changers:

giving short change in spiritual things

to many who seek the true coin:

making the Church an institute

when you want it to be a chaos of uncalculating love.

Drive out from out hearts

our calculated offerings,

our easy responses,

and let child-like faith

flood into us again.

Grant us such abandon, of Your grace alone,

that we too shall be made strong

to go outside the city wall

outside holiness

and die in the bloody mess of another Calvary

that the Church at home may live again.

Choose Kind

I recently read a book (for class!) called Wonder, by R.J. Palacio, and it is one of those books I couldn't put down.  There's a variety of characters involved in the story, but it mainly focuses on the life of 10 yr old Augustus, or Auggie, for short. Auggie suffers from a chromosomal disorder which has left him with a face that looks a bit different. Auggie is the unconventional hero, facing bullies, facing discrimination, and facing middle school - all with this grand sense of humor, and wonder. The story allows for insights from his life from his perspective, as well as his sister's, a few of his friends - and yes, even his bully.  I'm not going to tell you the whole story, but I am going to recommend that you take the time to read this book. 

And then, after you have read it and experienced the ups and downs that come with the story, I'm going to invite you to do two things:

1) pass the book on to someone else to read, 

and

2) choose kind. 

This story has been stuck in my head and heart since I finished it, and I keep thinking, how am I choosing kind?  It's what I'm called to do as a follower of Christ, but I don't think it is too lofty of an expectation for all humankind.  I wish I could say that it is ingrained in every part of my body, mind, and soul, but alas, I'm not that perfect.  Choosing to be kind is something I almost default to, but in all honesty, it is something I continue to seek out and practice.  What does it look like to choose kind?

 This past week I had the privilege to travel to Baltimore for the annual Association of Presbyterian Church Educators.  It was a wonderful time spent with many old friends, and a time, too, of making new friends.  Early into my trip, I had dinner with a man from Sapulpa, OK who was involved in Youth Ministry. He shared a story with us at the dinner table, and I left thinking, "he chose to be kind".  The next morning I rushed to find him midst the hundreds gathered to ask if I could share his story, and with his blessing (and in my own words)- here it is:

He'd been walking around the streets of Baltimore trying to find the perfect place for a meal.  Along his route, he encountered a man in need of many things - in need of shelter, in need of a shower, in need of a life without addiction, but most urgently at this time, in need of a meal.  My new friend said he was on route to lunch, and would be delighted to share a meal with the man.  He shared a story to his new lunch companion about how on an earlier trip he'd found a rockin' restaurant of a certain flavor, and as the two were walking, they happened upon the same kind of flavor of restaurant. They shared a meal together as well as a bit of each other's story, and then parted.  My new friend in his encounter with this man, chose kind.  He stopped to invite a stranger onto his path for an amount of time. He chose to be kind. 

I happened to be the stranger someone was kind to in my time in Baltimore last week.  I was having a frustrating day, which as we all might know, sometimes happens.  I was weary of many things, and struggling to see where I fit in this one environment.  I was on the phone with my mom (which is sometimes the best thing you can do on days like this, in my experience), pacing in front of the local grocery store.  I was explaining to my mom what I was feeling, and made the exasperated comment, "I just don't see how I fit into this world!".  I was speaking not of the world in general, but specifically the formal institutions of the world.  A young man carrying his groceries breezed past me during this moment, and without skipping a beat, turned back to me, and yelled, "Yes, you do!  You belong in this world!" and then kept walking.  Startled, I looked up a bit flabbergasted, and wanted to explain to him I know I belong in this world, but this was a hypothetical world.  

But before I could respond back, he turned again and shouted to me down the dark street, 

"We all have days like this.  You belong."

Y'all, I nearly started weeping then and there. I needed to hear that - from a random stranger on a dimly lit street in a strange city, at that time and place. 

He chose kind. 

Such simple words.

Such easy words to speak to a stranger. 

 Such plain and straightforward words that will remain tattooed on my heart forever. 

"Share with me."

"You belong."

"Choose kind."

Want to learn more about Wonder?  Check out the web page!

Want to publicly Choose Kind? Sign the pledge here!

Wait on the Lord

This reflection is a long time coming.  I originally started it at the beginning of Advent last year, and just know have been able to spend time getting my words right.  I finished it earlier this week for a reflection paper, but find these words speak to my soul in this time and place on my seminary campus.  The bold and italicized words are taken from Psalm 27  - a psalm that has been on my heart and mind for quite awhile.  If you are able, I would ask you keep the CTS community in your thoughts as we walk along side our beloved Hayner family during this time of transition.  In the midst of the waiting, we hold on to what we know - that we are Kingdom people - we come together and walk along side each other in times like these - with kindness and love. 

The Lord is my light and my salvation

 - whom shall I fear?

I've been here before - I've done this waiting before.  It's not the waiting that comes with the season of Advent - that waiting in the dark with the knowledge that the light will come - that the darkness will pass - this is a waiting where the darkness is never illuminated - is never brought into question - the darkness is just darkness.  This shadow never shifts, never gleans anything new - it dead ends into the place you know it will.  You try to ignore it - but the fear is there.  The fear of that returning pain of grief -

Wait on the Lord, be strong,

 and let your heart take courage.

I sat with spouses this summer - waiting like this - waiting for what we know was to come.  It was ugly - it was bloody - it was tedious - it was painful to live through - painful to watch... One spouse confessed to just wishing it would be over and than feeling guilt in wishing that of their loved one. "I sound so selfish - but I can't do this anymore - I'm not strong enough!"  What words of comfort do I have to offer in this season of waiting - in this time of transition - in this spring loaded space...

Wait on the Lord, be strong, 

and let your heart take courage.

I walked through this with my grandmother about a year ago. We'd lost her spouse of 60 + years at the end of summer, and we'd known they'd follow each other, even in death.  But as much as you think you're prepared, it still sneaks up on you and grabs at your heart and soul in ways you never expect.

But there it was - she was ill, and not going to get better. I'd received the phone call while on a Global Music Conference Retreat weekend at a ecumenical worship place in Richmond, VA, and I remember walking in circles in their calming garden, feeling my mind reel in circles with God. The words "why?" and "wait" were on repeat in my head and heart and I felt a bit lost. I couldn't make sense of much of anything - walking - thinking - praying in circles. 

Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud - 

be gracious to me and answer me!

  She'd been moved to hospice the week before Thanksgiving, so I packed up early from school and headed west.  With my grandfather, his transition to hospice had been so quick.  I had this fear I wouldn't see my grandmother - wouldn't get to spend just a few more minutes with her.  When I thought more about it, she knew everything I would have wanted to say - I didn't keep that from her. She knew how much I admired her, loved her, and appreciated her.  (Y'all know me - I'm not one to keep silent about my feelings.)  But I knew I wouldn't be ok if I couldn't spend time with her before she was gone.

 “Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!”

    Your face, Lord, do I seek.

 I arrived at the Hospice Center, said a prayer for strength in my car and walked in.  I remember everyone being so kind - most of the staff remembered my grandfather and my family from that time, and they were just so kind to me.  One staff walked with me to her room - I am now so grateful  for that - I didn't realize how anxious I would be. I wasn't sure what I was expecting - tubes - acrid smells of antiseptic - a shell of the woman I treasured so dearly - I did not know what I would see.

The room was warm - cozy - inviting.  The glow of her glass Christmas tree illuminated the space in the way that almost seemed sacred.   She looked beautiful, as she always does. I hugged my aunt who was there, and chatted for awhile, and then she left. I was alone with my beloved Bamma, for our last sleepover together.

And that's when the waiting felt real.  While I knew that was my grandmother, it wasn't.  I spent the night listening to hymns mixed with the sound of her labored breathing.  In the midst of the night, my attitude shifted from one of "why" and "wait" to an attitude of "go home and be at peace". The next few days were exhausting - waiting for the phone call - waiting for the weight of the waiting to be lifted from our shoulders.

Wait on the Lord, be strong,

 and let your heart take courage.

Waiting is hard to do when you know the outcome. When you know the wait will come to an end with a big, gaping hole in your life -you may have to be strong.   When you know it will end up in a funeral parlor, gathered around an open casket - waiting takes courage.  In the midst of darkness and a swirling chaotic mind - you keep on waiting - preparing to greet the familiar face of grief.

Loss of Words

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.  

- Romans 8:25-27

If you follow this blog at all, you might notice there was quite the gap in my last post up until now. If you follow me on other social media, you'll know I'm alive and well - and finishing up this last year at Columbia.  If we've spent time together in these past four months, you too, might know, I'm still that Chatty Kathy I tend to be. 

So, what gives?

I think I was at a loss of words. More specifically, a loss of words to share with others.  I started my fall semester a bit weary after an amazing and challenging summer serving as a hospital Chaplain. I'd been away from campus about nine months, and I didn't feel like I'd "come home".  I'd had four months of home in Cambridge, four months of home in Texas - and it wasn't as easy just to pick up where I'd left off. 

 And while I gleaned much from my classes, they weren't necessarily the classes that got my heart going - they were more the exhausting and emotionally draining types of classes. There was my Ethics class that focused on Providence and Theodicy, which I quickly nicknamed "Processing CPE" (my hospital gig).  We had good conversations that were so, so, so difficult, and I often left with more questions than I began with.  All good things - but challenging all the same.  There was my Creation Care class which was taught by Professor Doom (I promise, I didn't give him this nickname!), where once again we had good, challenging discussions on scripture and our role in God's good creation.  I'd come home and feel like my composting coffee grounds just wouldn't cut it in our ever increasing polluted and worn out world.  By the time I made it to the end of my week, in my Marriage and Family Counseling class I would be on sensory overload.  I kept waiting for our case studies in that class to become less personable, but in my life, much like many others - I've seen the effects of suicide, infidelity, addiction, mental illness, chronic illness and more. There's a face I recognize for every one of those topics, and it was emotionally hard for me to sit through these discussions. 

 I also was out of practice of writing in my journal and self-reflection which wreaked havoc on my processing.  My heart felt heavy and it seemed to be a season of frustration - of transition - of pent up thoughts and ideas I had no idea how to give words to. 

And then, a shift. 

There's quite a few resources that reflect on the verse above from Romans, but I most like at this time of a new season what this one says: 

“We are not left alone in our waiting and struggle, for "the Spirit helps us in our weakness". Even though we don't know how or what to pray, the Spirit intercedes for us with "inarticulate groans ". The NRSV translation, "with sighs too deep for words," obscures the parallel between our "groaning" and that of the Spirit. Just as we groan together with the whole creation, the Spirit groans together with and for us, interceding for us according to the will of God.

Our grasp of God's will and the future God has in store for creation is limited at best. How can we pray for what we have not seen and have difficulty imagining? The Spirit gives voice to what we cannot articulate but hope and long for in our inmost selves.”  

(You can read more here.)

A shift, where the Spirit has given voice to what I have difficulty imagining. 

A movement in my soul towards new life. 

A time at home to rest.

A time to click submit on all your school work, and be done. 

A time to gather with friends and family around the table (and sometimes do crafts). 

A time to hear words of encouragement and wisdom from mentors in my faith tradition.

A time to bake dozens upon dozens of cookies with the women in my family.

A time for afternoon tea parties with nieces, afternoon cuddles with nephews while reading stories, and of course, to decorate Christmas cookies. 

 A time to recognize this journey called seminary is almost ever, and something new is coming.

A time for exploring your home city with friends from different times in your life, rejoicing in the mutual friendships, and your love for the city.

A time to binge watch the latest Dr. Who with your sister.

A time to visit colleagues who are in new places and beginning new ministries.  

A time to go out and dance with your siblings to an 80's cover band. 

A time to feel how light your heart has become and wonder if the dark shadows of grief have lessened.

A time for the Spirit to intercede in the wonderful and unpredictable way that Spirit does. 

 A time to recognize a season has passed, and a new season is upon us.  A season that is full of light and hope - a season that brings warmth despite the cold, and brings a reminder in a tiny babe that God hasn't abandoned God's people. 

Praise be to God for that Spirit that reminds us in the midst of our weakness and groans, there is a hope for what we cannot see. 

So cheers, in this new year, in this new season, and blessings as you journey along. 

Year Four - The Final Countdown

I've been thinking about writing this post for about a month now, and finally figured it was a good time to get it out of my head and onto the page.  I've officially been in my final year at CTS for over a week now, and let it be known, I most definitely feel like a senior.  I find motivation a little hard to come by. I'm not as excited or energetic like the new class of students on campus.  While their excitement and energy is contagious, I also find it exhausting.  I find myself more business oriented, trying to be efficient and effective, and when you do that, sometimes relationship building gets left on the side road. There probably is a perfectly good explanation as to why I feel this way: I'm still recovering from CPE this summer, I'm adjusting back to being on campus after nine months away, or maybe it's because I still sometimes surprise myself thinking I am still a student.  

Let's rewind three years.

First of all, when I came out to Decatur, Georgia for seminary, I honest to goodness thought I would be here for three years, graduate before I turned thirty, and return home to my amazing family, wonderful boyfriend, adoring cat, and find a church in the Great State of Texas doing Youth Ministry and preaching every once in a while. In fact, I made myself freak out less about being five states away by repeating this mantra on a regular basis during my first semester when I was balancing learning Hebrew and remembering how to write papers after a five year break from college.  

I remember driving out to Atlanta.  I'd spent the night in Tyler, Texas with my grandparents, and as I was having breakfast with my Peepa, I couldn't help but just get weepy.  Peepa prayed with me and told me how proud he was I was going to be a preacher. I remember I tried to correct him in saying I would be a minister of sorts, and he just gave me a look (any of my family will remember that look Peepa gave).  It meant, "be quiet, I'm right." He walked me to my over-loaded car, gave me a hug and shared a story of what it was like for him when he left home for the war.  I think I cried all the way from Tyler through the entire state of Louisiana and possibly stopped only in Vicksburg, MS.  Then, I cried some more when I saw a sign for Dallas, Georgia (really?!?!?!)

I wouldn't say I came to seminary kicking and screaming, but I came with a heavy heart.  I left behind all I knew of my life in Texas - my friends, my family, my job, and yes, my bed!  I often found myself looking up at the sky shaking  my head, kind of stuck in this, "I know I should be here, but why is it so hard???"

Well, if you have known me at all in the past three years, you might know the cat died.

Rest in Peace, Charlie.




The relationship with the boyfriend ended, and I added another degree and will graduate at the beautiful age of thirty (which I turn in a few weeks). The family is still amazing and continues to grow - I've gone from one nephew and one niece to two of each, with another nephew on the way this fall!  By the grace of God, I've been able to be present when they've been born, and I have to say, being an Auntie is one of THE BEST things ever. 

Nephew #1 - I look so young!

Niece #1

Nephew #2!

Niece #2!

While I've sometimes struggled with being at CTS, I have never doubted my being here.  I knew Columbia was where God was calling me from the moment I stepped on the campus - EVEN before I applied to be a M.Div seminarian (just like in 1999 as a high school freshman I knew Austin College would be the one.)  Oh, how I've been homesick (shout out to the siblings & parents & family & friends who answer my calls when I feel weepy), but the the growth I've experienced here has been life changing.  

Taken sometime during Fall during my first year out here in GA.

  I've fallen in love with Atlanta (for the most part) and have come to appreciate the history of the city, the diverse cultures represented, and all FOUR seasons that happen here.  The food's not bad either. I've had family and friends come out and visit me here, and been able to share with them this city that now has a special place in my heart.  

Dish duty at Camp Buc for an All Church Retreat

 I've interned in inner-city churches, one vibrantly healthy and growing, the other one rapidly declining and figuring out it's role in the church, the city, and their own community. I've learned a bit about grant writing, joined a Gospel Choir, mastered the Hebrew and the Greek, and made some friends who I hope will be around for the rest of my life.  

I've even sung karaoke with a real life hard rock band.  

 I've loved how close Atlanta is to quite a few other places - I've done Mardi Gras in Mobile, Winter in Florida, Spring Break in Myrtle Beach, and spent a summer in North Carolina.  Ok, I've fallen for the state of North Carolina too...and not just the part called "Montreat" (though being 3 hours away is AWESOME.) 

From my summer at UPC in Chapel Hill, NC

 I've traveled more than I would have ever imagined - including a trip across the pond to study at Cambridge.  

Some of the lovely ladies I met at Westminster. 

I STUDIED AT CAMBRIDGE. 

 (Sometimes I don't even believe that happened...)

I mean...I met Rowan Williams...in person...

In the past three years, I've passed all my Ordination Exams. I've spent hours in classrooms listening to professors whom I admire, reflecting on readings, and responding alongside my classmates. I've done more group projects than I ever thought I would in graduate school. 

I've spent even more hours reading, then re-reading essays, chapters, sermons, scripture, and even books.  (This doesn't surprise me, I know graduate school included reading.  I just didn't quite understand how foreign some of the reading would be for me.  Thank heavens for Shirley Guthrie.)

I've worked on my spirituality. I've practiced silence, explored prayer, and found myself continually humbled at how and where God shows up.  Gratitude has taken on an entirely new meaning.  And somewhere along the way of the journey, I stopped looking up at the sky asking "why me, O God?", and started looking saying, "I'll go where you send me."  I came out here with quite clear expectations for myself, and in the way it often happens, those expectations have changed, and I don't mourn that. There's an image from StoryPeople, by Brian Andreas, called Falling into Place, and it sums up where I stand quite perfectly:

As much as I would love to return to Texas upon graduating on 5-16-15, I'm open to where God sends me.  I've mastered the Skyping, the flying home, and even the driving home (Thank you Audible!).  I remember when my parents came to visit me in North Carolina and my mom said, "keep going to neat places so we can always come and visit."  In a weird way (and she probably didn't know it), it was a permission I hadn't asked for or thought I needed, to go where I am called.  I guess I see it more as a blessing these days.

So I will take on this Senior Year.  I will pray for a positive spirit.  I'll try not to be a negative nelly in group projects.  I will try to allow myself to share in the excitement and energy of our new students.  I will remember that there are ways to be efficient and effective while maintaining relationships and building up our community. I know my God has called me out - called me to serve a broken world - called me to work towards healing and reconciliation - called me to think creatively and teach the ancient words in ways that all children of God can understand. As I begin this year and prepare for transitioning out of seminary into the church, it won't be the beginning of my ministry, but a continuation.

 It's going to be scary. There will probably be much uncertainty.  It might be hard.  I bet it will be exhausting.

But, I'm ready.

I've got some good people holding me in prayer. I've got some good people to reach out to and ask for help, ask for guidance, ask for a good laugh, or maybe, a good cry.

I know that as I move towards #fivesixteenfifteen (CTS graduation date), there's still much to learn and much to do. So with a willing heart, I'll try and give it my all. 

Listening

Part of our CPE experience included a day of learning about poetry as medicine. We took an entire day to read poetry together, as well as write poetry.  I'm an avid poetry person, but I was a bit daunted by a day of this.  It turned out to be quite an experience of growth and healing, not just for me, but for my peers.  It was a delight to hear how we all took a theme, such as listening, and created a variety of works of words.  We were given a certain amount of time (about 15 minutes for this one!) and a theme, and then shared our poems together after. I've been meaning to share some of my poems here, and finally have gotten around to it!  So, here's one poem I wrote in regards to listening, specifically when I'm going into a patient's room. If you'd like to learn more about poetic medicine, here's a website that talks about it. 

Ears?

Check.

Open? Attentive?

Perked up like Rover’s in anticipation

to the door creaking open,

hearing more than the door

and knowing what is heard?

Double check.

Eyes?

Check.

Alert?  Bright?

Taking in all things

with a sense of wonder and mystery?

Looking past objects

and into the deep unknown

like baby’s first encounter with the

musical mobile hanging above the bed?

Double check.

Mouth?

Check.

Slightly open, not pursed?

Ready to respond reassuringly?

To make affirming,

appropriate sounds of empathy?

As your grandma used to do when

you shared your day’s adventures

at bath time?

Double check.

Shoulders?

Check.

Loose and low?

Relaxed and resolved?

Avoiding the desire to look like

the high school offensive lineman

as he haunches up to defend the ball

no matter what,

protecting all he encompasses?

Double check.

Hands?

Check.

Calm? No twitching?

Ready to respond

with the slightest of touches

that carry more weight

than you’ll ever know?

Double check.

Heart?

Heart?

You there…?

Oh – good. Check.

Ready for what could be a doozy?

Ready to be made vulnerable

like the limbs of a tree that feel

both beauty in the seasons and

loss in the changing of them?

Ready to be worn on the sleeve

and exposed to the elements?

Double check.

Good.

All systems go –

Ready to engage.

Who knows what you'll encounter?

A beloved land that seemed distant could soon be home within you.

Charting: Factual vs. Fictitious

 For anyone who has ever had the privilege to be exposed to a medical charting system, this post might seem familiar.  This post isn't really about my chart notes being factual or fictitious, it's more about walking that fine line of what is needed to be said and what wants to be said.  Like most hospitals/doctor's office/etc, this hospital uses a note-taking system that allows for everyone who interacts with patient to document it. 

 

The system here is named...

 

wait for it...

 

 

 It is, of course, epic.

 

 Everyone uses it.

 

Doctors, x-ray technicians, nurses, OT, PT, and yes, even Chaplains.

 

Especially Chaplains.  Our use of the epic system varies quite differently than our medical peers.  Instead of doing medical assessments, we do spiritual assessments.  (It's not as intense as it sounds, I promise.)  Praise the Lord, our charting requirements are much simpler than our cohorts.  (We were able to knock out our system training in under two hours.) 

 

I find the charting sometimes quite hard to do.  When I was in pre-surgery, and I visited on average 10-15 patients each morning, and most of them before 7:00am.  I didn't chart until an hour (or sometimes 4 hours) later, and developed a note system to helped me remember everyone I'd met with. It involved many colors of pens, dots and dashes, and random one word reminders, that anyone else looking at it would say, "What?", but I look, and go, "ahh, yes".

 

Then, when it's time, I would come back to an office, sit down, and try to chart our visit. 

And that's where the trouble starts. 

While I could easily copy and paste a note for everyone I've visited, I just can't do it.  I feel like if anyone, I'm the one person, who in charting, should put a little piece of the patient in the chart - and not the details of age or sex or medical issues - but a bit of who they truly are - a loving mother, an anxious spouse, or hilarious grandma. 

 

This might be my English degree sneaking in, too.  Charting is very impersonal, all said from 3rd person perspective.  I, of course, find myself writing sentences that could be the beginning sentences of a soon-to-be-smashing-hit novel. (emphasis on "could be")

 For example, this is what could be considered a general note used for a patient:

  

Met with patient and family; introduced them to Chaplain Services. Patient expressed he was a little anxious, but felt supported by friends and family. Offered pastoral support. Will continue to provide support and follow up as needed.

 

Here is what I wish I could say:

 

Walked into the patient's room, and patient looked up nervously, as if anticipating yet another person walking in to take something from him - his blood, his temperature, or his signature. Yet as I introduced myself, relief flashed across his face.  I walked farther into his room where his friend greeted me with a genuine smile, one that touched all the corners of your heart and just oozed kindness and warmth.  Addressing the patient, I went through the "pre-surgery" routine, which often times felt like a one-woman-stand-up comic relief type of show.  I informed him there were people here at UTSW who wouldn't ask for anything from him, but would offer what they could for him - a kind smile, a prayer spoken, or the opportunity to kick someone out of the room.  Patient expressed how much it meant to have his friends and family along side him in the room where he felt over exposed and how their presence made him feel normal.  Patient had a great laugh and you can tell this is a group of friends and family who tell each other they are loved.  It was an unexpected blessing to visit with them on this early summer morning; a reminder of our God at work in what may seem a mundane morning, but sacred all the same

Here's another example.  Something like this gets charted:

  

Met with patient and visitor; introduced them to Chaplain Services. Patient expressed no needs at this time; will continue to follow up and provide support as needed.

 

And here is what I wished I could say.

 

Walked into patient's room, and the sense of inconvenience of the entire sitution was speaking louder than the bright yellow gown draped around the patient's shoulders. I introduced myself to the patient who exclaimed within the first few seconds confirmed she was "fine" and needed no assistence from Chaplain Services.  Eye-contact was somehow avoided the entire time I spent with the patient and visitor, as was the mention of the reason for the patient's visit.  I wanted to share with the patient she was not alone in having her life interrupted or inconvenienced by the aggresive monster named Cancer. I wanted to let her know that it was ok if she was not fine.  But I put my wants away and let the patient know Chaplain Services was available at her disposal, and left her room. 

 

I wouldn't say it's an internal battle, but sometimes it's hard to truly capture what happened in the moments I spent with a patient in their chart. I know there is a good reason to remain objective within the charts, but it still feels like we're treating an object, and not a person.  And that's where the little Chaplain notes can make a difference.  I can make a comment that this patient gets much meaning out of being called grandma, or that this patient's from out of town, but has a strong support system here in town.  Do the doctors or nurses or therapisits read any of these notes?

 

Maybe. I mean, I hope so.  And I hope it offers something to the story of this patient.  I hope it gives the doctor/nurse/caretaker pause, maybe a reminder for some that this is a beloved grandfather.   

Or that it clues them in that this patient has no strong support systems to share in the grief of a terminal diagnosis. 

 

There ARE many health professionals who treat patients as more than just a Medical Reference Number or new diagnosis.  But Chaplains can sometimes fall in a weird gap of meeting patient's needs.  We often have met with family and somehow have acquired little nuggets of knowledge that maybe no one else had thought of. This is not because the others don't care, but when I meet with a patient, I don't have any medical jargon going on in my head - I am there, face to face, with the patient.  Or the family as the case might be. 

Sometimes I laugh with families as they remember funny jokes. Sometimes I pray, sometimes I listen to a prayer, and sometimes I leave with a blessing. Sometimes I just walk people to the right set of elevators. Sometimes I listen to patient's share their journey to this time and place.  Sometimes I direct people to the best cup of coffee in the hospital. Sometimes I weep with families as they walk through the shadow of the valley.  Sometimes I give hugs and talk about alligators with a 7 year old who has a dad dying of brain cancer.

All of these "sometimes" are important, and some seem monumental.
 All are a part of a patient's journey here at the hospital.

And when I'm done, I come back to the office and condense the visit into a succinct, somewhat impersonal but always factual chart note.

And then I hope the empathy felt, the emotions noticed, and the little peices of information gleaned prove to be represented well within the note.