Oh it's a Monday

Today I visited with a brother who I had seen twice before. This time was a little different though, as he was laying in his bed, not sitting by the window. Not sure what has put him in bed, the nurse, the doctor, his daughters... the cancer? But he looked tired. He still wanted to talk though. An elderly man, a lawyer, and someone concerned with the direction of the Christian faith. Not through politics and government, but something that should be shared by our hands, touching those in need and those hurting. We are not meant to go grow the church, but to minister to the poor, the sick, the helpless. Jesus did not spend his time inviting people to church, but touching them in ways noone has ever touched before. We are the hands of Christ. Today, this kind man talked about how lately he has realized the warmth of hands, and the life that is in them. I could sense his thoughts of mortality beginning to vocalize, and listened hard. He was proud of me, and said that I was a good Christian man. He said he is sad. Sad to see the world in the shape it is, and I assume, sad that there isn't much more he is able to do. So he reached up, grabbed both my hands, and said see the warmth, feel it? Life continues. It will continue in you. I prayed with him. And thanked God for his life, and the blessing he has meant to me in this very moment. Honored by the kind words, and the affirmation of my life now. And feeling the warmth of life in the love of a Christian brother.

Late Post for 2/24 Friday

This last week seemed, how do you say, worse than any other? Not sure how or why, but maybe the emotional part of ministering to families, emotional part of my life and transition, and emotional part of having a 3 yr old that doesn't enjoy obeying all caught up with each other on the "perfect storm" of a week. It was even a short week, but also a lonely week, as Virgil and Paul were both out of the office till Thursday. I spent a few visits of referrals that were really meaningful to me, as I could see the enjoyment from the family as I announced my purpose for the visit... a friend who cares for you asked me to come be with you. One of our sisters got to get out of the hospital this week, and that was a blessing. I showed up early to her room, and was excited to hear of her departure schedule. Her mom shared in the joy she had in having folks from Lifeline stop by consistently, and lifting them up in prayer.
But I also learned something new about cancer treatment. Getting out of the hospital does not offer pure freedom. There is an additional 100 days (at least in this case) that the patient needs to come in for treatment and blood scans to ensure the cancer is no longer present. That means more parking, more driving, more hassle with traffic and waiting rooms, more blood drawn, more waiting for results, and more anxiety... but no more 3am vitals. So as Ecclesiates teaches, its all meaningless, here today, gone tomorrow, with the good theres the bad, but no matter what... Fear God and keep his commandments.

Today at church, I was asked to lead the prayer time that would "wrap up" our 40days of purpose time, and look back on some of the things we learned. However, this prayer time that I had planned, did not come to its fruition. We sang 2 songs before I was supposed to get up to the podium, The Greatest Command and something else... anyway, the first song is one that for some reason or another, always moves me to tears. It's the announcement of our purpose and our likeness to Christ, to Love One Another, because God is love. It's powerful. And so I thought, I could go up and do my prayer, without being affected. I was wrong. I could barely get out the commencement portion of the prayer, when I felt Jesus tapping at my heart. It takes a big man to stand before his church and be vulnerable, to be open, to allow the tears to be heard.... at least that's what I tell myself. It was a powerful prayer... and a very spirit lead prayer. Most are right? Well funny I ask, because this morning I asked God to help me in my prayer, to give me the words and the spirit of worship. And there it was. I have had a few people respond to me that it was a very "tender" prayer time, moving, powerful, and good. All virtues I see in Jesus Christ, and was glad to share with the 1st service today.
So not really a reflection on this last week in patient rooms, or times with coworkers, but just in the life of an intern, and behind the scenes, of why it is so important to just Love one another... because God is Love.

Thoughts from 2/21

I went to MDA today and had some new encounters. Without giving names, and complying with HIPAA and JCAHO regulations, here are some reflections on these events.
I encountered one gentlemen who was not fun to look at. And during these visits, I have come to look deep into peoples eyes, instead of there outer appearances. For the times I am there to talk and converse with, are not times to be the physician or the nurse, not times of physical evaluation, but times of emotional and spiritual encouragement. I am there to be a calming presence, and a non-anxious presence. That is impossible to do if you are staring at the bandages and the infections and the different colors of illness. I now know the verse, God looks at the heart of the man, the inside. And you can see many things when you look into someone's eyes.
I talked with a friend who is getting out of the hospital today. She is very excited. To sleep at night, and not have people in and out. However, the doctor visits will be on a daily basis for the next few months, but the "tough part" is over. And a prayer of thanksgiving was offered.

my Post from week of 2/13

This week things seem to be falling into place, and the reflection of this internship are beginning to grow and define this experience into the most complete and maturing process of my life thus far. I was able to join a room full of CoC preachers and ministers this week, and for the first time, really vocalize the trueness of what I am getting out of this experience. As I shared my "job title" I went into a brief description of what being an intern/volunteer as a ministry to others has looked like. I have been blessed and encouraged in my daily encounters with brothers and sisters who are seriously ill and dying, as well as by their families. Even those who seem short tempered or quick bring about a realness to the illness and crisis of life. Even with our hope in Christ, sometimes the pain of sickness can become vocal or visible. As I spoke, I found myself in awe of my own words, unsure of how I could ever recall them on paper again, but feeling as if the Holy Spirit was spreading the good work of Lifeline in that very moment. I expressed that this time of life is invaluable and there is no amount of money that could purchase this type of education. I am very fortunate to have been invited to be a part of this ministry in being the smile and hand of Christ, and lifting up those in prayer who are in great despair, great depression and removed from all normalcy they have ever known.
This week I was thinking back on why it is I read over the stats of the patients before I go in. I saw Paul and Virgil both read over them, so therefore I did. And then it hit me... it gives me their personal life right there on the paper in brief initials and codes. M-married, S-single, D-divorce & W-widowed. And what a day to realize this, Valentines day, when I decided I was going to try to see those (W) females... because this is probably a doubly hard time. Not only being alone in the hospital without a spouse, but knowing the spouse they used to have is no longer around, on the most romantic day of the year.. so they say. So my lesson to those newcomers and volunteers is this bit of information can be very valuable as we initiate discussion with people about their family and personal lives outside of the hospital bedroom. Comments to avoid could be: Where is your husband (to a divorced woman, or worse yet, a single woman) This week I was visiting a sister who was supposed to be released, when they found a new tumor on her hip. Oh that sucks. So much so, I expressed my emotions aloud that this must be a really sucky valentine for you, and I'm sorry to hear of this news.
I learned this week the importance of ignoring certain body functions as we visit. This was a rather difficult lesson, but one I was quite proud of once it was complete. I enjoyed the visit and the encouragement listening to the young(old) woman, speak of her shortness of time here on earth, and her eagerness and readiness to be with the Lord.
I learned that the new acquaintances I am making are eternal relationships that I will meet up with again. That gives me hope in my visitations, that they are not a one day, 10 minute discussion on how the day is, but they are introductions into the family of Christ we will be surrounded by on that blessed day Jesus Christ returns.
I learned to give hugs this week. And the importance of touch. Those who are bed ridden and isolated and without friends and family around need this the most, I think. They need to feel that acceptance to be touched even before the leprosy is healed, as Christ did. We love first, and talk later.
I have learned the imagery of prayer this week, in giving those I am holding hands with a visual of what it is we are doing together. Walking together hand in hand, into the throne room of God, and laying down those burdens we are so eager to carry. And then just plunging ourselves into His love.
Lastly, I learned we are not immune to problems in our own lives. As ministers, caregivers, friends, volunteers, workers whatever, the roles may soon change and the season may one day be fallen upon us, upon me. I am blessed to know should that time arise, there is One I trust to take care of me in Christ, one I know will stand by me in my wife, and many who will be with me in prayer and presence. This week I'd like to lift up a list of people who I have seen as well as their conditions, to bring before the Lord.

Review and Reflection of “Tuesday’s With Morrie”

The purpose of this paper is to spend a few moments in reflection on the recent movie I watched “Tuesday’s with Morrie”. The power and insight to this film and life of Morrie, has a great many implications and affects on how we care for the seriously ill, how we care for those who give care, and how we care for ourselves.
To begin, this story of ones man life reflects the realization that all who encounter death and life have something to offer others. Are we willing to sit and listen? Are we willing to grow and be challenged? Are we willing to every face our fears and doubts with honesty? The first observation I encountered in the life of Mitch and Morrie was the failed promises and quick comments and reactions to questions. To me, it brings about the realization of how we as a calming presence and non-anxious presence to those who are seriously-ill, should be very careful and mindful of our promises and quick-witted vernacular. Mitch learned this lesson 16 years later, but at least he learned it. The promise he made to remain in touch was honored, even though it may not have been on the time-frame he imagined, but was encouraged when the promise was fulfilled. Morrie’s day was brightened by the visit of an old friend, and good buddy. And the next promise Mitch made was one he knew he would keep, but at some level was hoping he wouldn’t. Facing those who are seriously-ill, brings to the forefront the mortality of our own lives as well as those who we dearly love. And to promise to return, to see the situations become worse, to see the pain in the suffering, and to encounter the tears of love and sorrow….hurts, because those tears are a fear of ours, coming to the reality we may one day be in pain and suffering. The comments and promises we make should be well-thought-out and sometimes even reworded, so as not to promise something we cannot keep. We are the hand, the smile, the voice of Christ, the body of Christ coming to those who need him, in a time when they need him most, and our presence is one cherished like a visit from an angel. Comforted by the fact we care enough to stop our lives to love them. But the uneasiness and uncomfortable feelings we encounter, I encounter when visiting patients and friends, sometimes lends itself to offer words I do not intend to fulfill, so that I can get out of the situation and back to my life of comfort and … here it is…. Control. I cannot control those who are seriously ill, or the pain they feel or the words they may utter. And that scares me.
Another observation was how the caregiver in the movie was not even recognized until the very end. As Mitch walks in the room, to get away from Jeanine and Morrie’s conversation, Connie is startled by his presence thinking she needs to be doing something, that he needs something. At which Mitch responds, and finally acknowledges, ‘you look exhausted’. Even though the caregivers are paid, and are there by choice, there is an amount of stress and reality poured into their spirit from the affect a dying person, and the amount of care they require. I was deeply moved by the reality of this, and I think it was done very well, to leave Connie out of the picture until the very end, allowing everyone to just use her, walk in the house and not speak to her or truly acknowledge and converse with her. She was there for everyone, a maid of sorts, but the caregiver is a person too, and their feelings and needs are being tested and grown through the encounter in caring deeply for someone they may not have know the week earlier. But loving them as if they are the most important person in the world. And that is what our friends need, who are seriously ill and dying, someone to care for them completely, unconditionally and Christly. It is hard being a caregiver, it is draining, it is demanding, and at some points, the reward does not seem to match the work, for the reward in providing good care is the person dies. It takes a special person to do that work.
The last observation I would like to reflect on is how the life of a seriously ill person affects me. It changes our relationships; it makes us reevaluate our purpose and our goals of life. And if it doesn’t then it needs to. Mitch realized the importance of his life and love through the death of another. This impact is invaluable. The change in us is not to avoid the pain, but to find someone we trust, someone we love completely, unconditionally, to be with us when that pain is born and the trials and struggles of life and crisis arise. Jesus Christ is our calming presence, and our constant presence, but the hand of another is what we long to hold on to when it’s time to say ‘good-bye’.

but what about you?

In dealing with patients, their families, nurses and doctors on a daily basis now in the hospital chaplain program, there is something about my life that is continually brought into the open. As much as we try to avoid it- ministering to others is really a ministry to ourselves. How so? Let's reflect on this evenings occurrences and why it seems I am now full throttle in caring for others. I think its no coincidence-
We left the house around 4:30pm to take the kids to church, at which point we met up with Julie and Ethan and headed for dinner with Brad and April. As we sat there eating our appetizer, enjoying the company, and being funny and silly and just having a good time, my night changed. We were looking over the menu for choices for dinner and even dessert, and I said 'oh man......... I forgot to put my insulin pump back on.' Here we were, some 2 hours later, and would not be home until after 8:30 I would imagine. And I became very angry. No where close to home, and the choices were slim.

Fake Therapist: How did that make you feel?
Steve: Like beating the crap out of the table; yelling at everyone who talked to me, asking everyone who has ever asked me the question "should you be eating that" if they ever had to reevaluate their eating habits based purely on insulin dependence or just fat intake; sitting in silence and being very quiet, and thinking about how this just plain sucks.
Fake Therapist: So what did you do?
Steve: I ignored it, thought maybe, well I can go 4.5hrs without insulin.
The Real Steve: Then I said to Jennifer, I can't go this long without insulin.

And there it hit me, reality, waking up from my dream, being brought back to my reality and hell; I depend on something that has no thought pattern, no substance, no life, no soul, no common sense and requires a AAA battery to live an abnormal life. I hate this disease. I hate being tied to this pump everywhere I go. I hate that I can't leave the house without it. I hate if I do leave the house, I have to go back. I hate that after we walked 2 blocks to Walgreens to buy an OTC insulin, and giving myself an injection, that the bottle dropped and broke, thereby just wasting $40 bucks.

So how does that give me any background into why I want to get out of the computer support business, and into a ministry of Jesus Christ, providing a compassionate resonance with other who are either serious ill in body or spirit? I think I know. But how does your imperfect condition prompt you to serve? Do you let it?

Friday Lookback

I'm not even sure where to begin in my reflections this week. At some points, I'm tired and depressed, and at other points I feel encouraged and renewed in the Lord's work. Let's just look back on some events this week, and how they impacted me, as best as I can remember.
1. Tuesday we had open house at the new Dallas office for Lifeline. The drive to Dallas was a blessing, as I got to know someone on a deeper level than office chit-chat and hellos. She is a remarkable woman, and has been through a great deal of crisis in her own life, yet does not let those times of despair ruin the joy she has in being a child of God.
2. I was able to pray with an older black couple Wednesday, friends of the friend I drove to Dallas. As I closed our visit in a prayer, I was encouraged and blessed by the affirmations of my prayer and the praise given to God during that time. Our outlook on worship styles seems to grow when there are 2 or 3 gathered. Things that bug you in corporate worship, seem to grow to a blessing when praying one on one with a child of God who has been beaten up by life. I had this urge to just get louder and keep talkin' to the Lord.
3. During our open house in Dallas, I met an old preacher man who knew my Pappy. There was something about that moment that just made my heart jump. As I sat there listening to him talk, all I could think was "I really like talking to friends of my grandparents, because somehow it seems to keep their lives alive." He talked about how Walter would spend a great deal of time in his office. He'd go get some coffee, and just sit down and talk. He said he kept him encouraged. Funny how things like that seem to be inherited. Pappy did a good job teaching dad, who taught me, how to be a good friend to folks. For that, he will always be a part of me... everytime I sip a cup of coffee, and am reminded of the love we have for our brothers and sisters in Christ.
4. I met a 5 year old TCH patient yesterday. As he sat on the window ledge, looking out at the cranes and train passing by, he remained very quiet. Didn't even look my direction much, just staring off into a world he was unable to be part of today. I was hit pretty good with this visit, as I just imaged my 5 year old sitting there. The trains and the toys and the videos just don't seem to help much. There was just this urge to hug him, and tell him I was sorry he was going through this, and that God is always with him. Well... that was my last visit for the day. My mind seemed to just be warped, and it affected the physical parts as well. Unable or just unwilling to go. I got me some chick-fil-a to help numb the pain.

I am constantly reminded of the importance of a relationship with Christ as I visit our brothers and sisters in Christ at the hospitals. I have been reading (on tape) the book by John McCain "The Faith of my Fathers" this last week, and now CSLewis "Mere Christianity". McCain brought out something I encountered with a patient a week or so ago, in that being in isolation for so long, and being alone, the first glimpse you have of another person, you saturate the time with conversation. Just to hear yourself speak, but to also have that companionship you have been lacking for so long. Lifeline is that companion in crisis. I am that friend they have been longing to see. Everytime I hesistate to knock on the door, I need to be reminded of the isolation my brothers are in, and enter with a willing heart and a loving spirit of Christ to share in their pain, and lift up their spirit.

When Coffee just isn't enough

Yesterday I had the feeling, I need more coffee. I was heading off to "piddle" at lunch time, to look around at Lowe's, eat at Chickfila, and just have some down time... right, I need it. I got a call on the way out of the med center, that there was a referral awaiting surgery. A young lady from Arkansas, with 2 small children, getting ready to go into surgery. She is a new Christian, and her husband has been a Christian for some time. I hurried over, to see what I could do... or at least, see what the Lord could do. I got there to find the mother of the husband in the waiting room. We talked a little bit, and told her I would return and maybe her son would be around. She told me it would just be a hurry up and wait.

I was called up to another room to visit a man... I thought, and it ended up being a 10 yr old cancer patient, hopefully on his last round. He had got sick the last few days and came in. They have just moved from Florida to Houston, and were looking at placing membership when all this happened. The room was filled with kid stuff, which I almost started playing. Playstation, games, toys... everything to make the experience as "fun" as possible. But he was ready to go. As soon as I walked in, he asked are you here to let me go home? I talked to him mom for a while, just to give her a break from what was happening. She was working on recipes in the corner, had her journal pages laid out on the small table. I begin to fit together the puzzle pieces of a mom having her life interrupted with a sick child. The plans of you son that you have, not really what the Lord has in mind. Does that statement bother you? The Lord's plans?

We live in and live with a substance called the body. This body is physical, and is not perfect. Though there are medicines and treatments, and some cures.. the body will never be perfect. It is flawed, or cursed as was mentioned at church last night. And with that, comes sickness, illness, imperfections, colds, flu, and a fight to live. Our soul is made perfect in Jesus Christ. And that encouragement lends itself to strengthen the resolve of the seriously ill, and the hope in Jesus. Yesterday, I prayed with an older woman, and for the new bodies and refreshment we will receive in heaven, when all of this sickness is done away with. When God gives us a new body, a body without pain or tears or sickness or exhaustion or doubt. We will be complete.

But till then, bring on the coffee. Bring on the quiet talks, the anxious feelings of surgery, the doubts of what God's plans are, and how anything good can come of a mother dying of matasticizing cancer with 2 children under 3 years old. Bring on the friends of Jesus and the smiles he gives them to encourage and to be with those in need.

A presence in a time of loneliness is more powerful than a drop of rain in the desert, because its existence is not soaked up and used, but blossomed into new life.

Reflections_Feb3rd

This week my body finally caught up with my emotions, as I began to realize how exhausting life is visiting patients in the hospital. This may have been brought about by my reactive words to Jen's urgings to talk one evening, when I said, "I have been listening to people all day, I'm tired". I recall thinking aloud this week in talking with Virgil, "I've had cancer, I'm dying, I had surgery, my friends are sick, noone knows when they are going home...." it begins to mean something more to me, seeing those in the hospital, the more I do it. I don't feel broke by it, or depressed or repulsed or hardened, but by recognizing these feelings and the connections I have or may have in the future to visiting patients, I feel I can begin to put guards up to protect me from becoming too emotionally involved.
Earlier this week I referred to a patient I visited who had 3 children at home, and had been in the hospital for 2 months. The particular visit also brought to mind the realization of how likely it may be someone close to me may undergo the same illness of life.
A few things I did learn this week:
1. It's ok to turn around and go back to Nineveh, after you tell the Lord no. The patient I referred to above was in a room where you were expected to "gown up" and cover yourself before entering. This made me uncomfortable at first. And as I stood there pretending to write something, the mom came out to get the nurse. At which point, I inquired if it would be a good time to visit. And it was.
2. When someone asks you if you want to pull up a chair, it means they are enjoying your company, and need the friendly words. This week, I denied that offer, and explained to the woman I could not stay long. I felt bad after I said it, but remained in her presence for a few minutes in discussion as well as prayer.
3. God works even in my mistakes and foul-ups. He is greater than me. And I need to trust He will work through my presence with those who are seriously ill or just out of their normal home environment.
Steve

Cancer lessons

I was visiting a friend yesterday (that is how I will refer to the patients I visit, b/c they are now my friends) who had been in MDA for 2 months now. Back home, south Texas, she has left her 3 girls. Her mom continues to be with her as she received this 2nd round of transplant bone cells for bone marrow. Last July she was in hospital quickly, wanting to get out and around, always inquiring of her release to go home. This time, she said, she's not so anxious. There are days when her fever aches her so much, she talks in dread of those times to come. Receiving the next suggestion from her doctor, that states her next round of meds may include such types that cause these headaches. I could see her mind reflecting back in history as she recalled the pain and anguish of those pains, and the "dread" as she calls it of taking them again.
Along her wall were hand made cards from kids at church. She talked of the last time she was home in making sure she was ready and dressed and at her best. She said she told her friends this time, if they see her in a tshirt and jeans they'll have to be ok with it, because at least she's there at church. Her husband is going to school to get his welding certification to work with her father. She is 26yrs old, and has already received 2 bm transplants, has 3 girls at home, and is distressed at the future of this treatment. However, in all that, she continues to invite conversation at her bedside. The nurse came in, and she would d not let her leave until she inquired about another nurse. Giving her a hard time for doing their job. Talking about the time that has past since she last saw the nurse. To me, it shows a great need to my friend to have social conversation with anyone. To be touched, to talk with, to just smile.
As we prayed, I felt a connection with her and her kids, as I have 3 kids. I know the pain there is in being away from your children. I know the concern you have as a parent not being able to be their support, their protector, their teacher. And I wanted to help her reframe on her children at home, and be there with them now, remembering the times, the anger they sometimes give us, but the joy we receive in loving them no matter what they say or do. Just as it is with our Father, he loves us even in our outburst, our questions, our doubt, our sickness and our joy. We trust in Him.

As I was waiting at the elevator, a family member was waiting with me. She asked if I was going home. What a profound statement now. I talk with my friends in the hospital about "when they can go home" or where is home. But now it hit me. I am here waiting to go home. Home to Heaven, a place prepared for me, where I will be loved and nurtured, and felt a part of a family. A place of joy and excitement, and the anticipation I have to reach out and hold my Father. To meet him Face to face. I wonder how often our friends think about that question. Do they dread it? Or does it bring them peace?
steve
[This will probably be one of my verbatims during the course of my internship]