PICU Reflections

I spent two years working as a pediatric hospital chaplain and some of the deaths still haunt me. Today, I was reflecting on the beautiful, difficult and painful work of love which the staff of pediatric intensive care units undertake each and every day.

Please, don't scroll below the picture if reading about a child's death is going to bother you.




I never did find out how she died. She came in unresponsive and the incessant pounding of resuscitation was the only movement I ever saw. The bags of fluid gurgled in and then out as her lungs became fluid overloaded and her hair was coated with vomit and saline. Her skin was golden and then dusky and I was there when the light went out of her eyes and I knew that she was gone.

Yet, they pounded on...hoping against hope, straining for some miracle that they had long since ceased to believe in. I sat with her parents as they watched. Taking in the incomprehensible we huddled in the corner. She was gone and I knew, yet we prayed on.

Slowly they ceased, time of death was pronounced and the parents were ushered into a nearby room as tubes were pulled and clothes were found to bring dignity to her limp body. I promised to stay with her and held her shoulders so that the nurse could wash away the accumulated effluvia of death, life and hope.

She was clothed in a set of pink pajamas, her hair combed gently--as if she could still resist the pull of its teeth in her snarls and cry from the roughness. Her head rested on the pillow, and clean sheets lay beneath her. The gentleness of the nurses ministrations to her in death a stark contrast to the violence her body had taken in those last moments of life.

They had fought hard to keep her soul and body linked--but they were torn asunder and we were all left, breathless and limping, from the pain of it all.

Her death was not the only one that day--it was just the unexpected one, adding to the burden squirreled away in the horseshoe shaped halls of the pediatric intensive care unit.

I left. Many of them remain.

Proper 22A, Scripture I Thought I Hated Until I Had to Write A Sermon...

I have a friend, who writes her sermons with the question in mind--”where is the grace”. And, this week as I struggled with this parable from Matthew I found myself searching, digging deep for the grace in the midst of a story that is, quite frankly, horrific.

Taken as allegory, we have a story in which we identify the wealthy landowner as God. The tenants are the Pharisees, the Isrealite people who kill God’s messengers. Then, as a last resort, we have a son, the son of the wealthy landowner, who is then read as Jesus. He is killed as well. Then, the landowner, God, kills all of the tenants and puts new tenants in place--presumably tenants who will follow the rules.

Now, I find this story vile. I find it vile largely because it tends to lend itself to self righteousness and vindication on the part of Christians--see we have the true faith and you folks who don’t listen to God are going to get in trouble!!

Thankfully, this story is not an allegory, it is a parable. And parables are not as simple as we might like to think. In fact,in Matthew 13:1-9, Jesus said that he told his parables so that the crowds might NOT understand.

Now, I currently spend a small bit of my week in a crowd that few would expect to have much understanding of scripture--this crowd is comprised of the kindergarten Sunday School I am currently co-teaching at St John the Baptist in Linden Hills. However, the depth of their understanding continuously astonishes me. Last week as the children worked on making placemats--a presumable simple and uncontroversial task--one of the 5 year olds looked up at me. “Jesus dies” he stated emphatically, and with no uncertainty. The child next to him looked confused and worried. In response I asked--”is that the end of the story, that he dies? Or is there more?”

Now all of the five year olds were looking at us...waiting to hear the rest of the story. “He comes back alive” replied the child. They all nodded, I could sense a bit of relief.

When I recall this moment, this question, “is that the end of the story?” I find that this parables surprises me because, when I was able to move beyond the allegorical reading, I noticed something crucial--I had the wrong ending to the story!

The people to whom Jesus is speaking are the one’s who tell us that the landowner will “put those wretches to a miserable death”--NOT Jesus. Jesus holds out a different ending and the beautiful truth to this ugly parable is that the end of the story is NOT death and destruction. The audience does not have the final word, Jesus does. And, the end of the story is the truth of a God who has taken what is broken, taken what has been rejected and made it beautiful and whole. The son is not dead, he comes back, and he carries with him the love and forgiveness which we all so desperately need in this world.

Now, it would be lovely to end here--see God loves us and that is that! But, I can’t ignore the rest of the parable, for Jesus continues. He tells the crowd that the kingdom will be taken from them and there will be destruction. And, this that gets us back to the ending that I believe firmly is not “true”--the ending that ends on the cross with “he dies.” An ending that God has rejected, an ending that does not reflect the grace of the Christ I follow.

Because, just as I cannot look only at the portion of the text that back up my own beliefs, I cannot look at this parable without looking at how this parable appears in the Gospel of Luke. And in this comparison I find that there is more grace to be had.

The theology of Israel in Luke is that the Israelites will play a central role in the kingdom of God--the invitation to follow Jesus in Luke comes as an invitation to be grafted on, to be joined with the Israelites. In Luke the vineyard of Israel is not taken away to be given to others--rather it is opened up to new workers. It is an expansive claim for God’s love--not a limited claim.

I feel as if I have set up my extrapolation of this text as a kind of choose your own adventure story. Do you remember those? You got to the end of the chapter and you made a choice between two different options and depending on which choice you made you got a different ending?

But, in this story God makes one choice and reflects a grace filled truth, the choice to send the son and the ultimate truth which is the love of God. The love of a God who continuously liberates us from injustice and oppression, the God who guides us to a place, a kingdom where mercy is the rule and compassion is the guide. This love runs throughout scripture, “I brought you out of the house of slavery”; “the stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstones and it is amazing in our eyes”; “Christ Jesus has made us his own”.

And, so here we are, on a glorious fall day and we are faced with choices. And the only choices that we can make in good conscience are those which reflect the grace of God. Choices which allow us to find a place for all in the building and the body of Christ.

Like the Pharisees, like the Israelites--we Christians will fall short. But, in the scripture today we are shown the truth of God’s love and reminded that God has led us out of slavery. And in the parable, Jesus, reminds us that God will come to us again and again--no matter the betrayal, no matter the hate, no matter how we receive the messengers of God, God will continue to seek us out.

The God we proclaim in our liturgy is the one God, the God who brought us out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.

What will we do with our freedom? Which endings will we choose for our own lives?

Free Ranging It...

After my last post, and as a parent in general, I've been reflecting quite a bit on what is "safe" or "okay". In our house the childproofing is fairly minimal--our bookshelves, tall and filled with heavy books, are not bolted to the walls (he's not really a climber) and the baby gate guarding the stairs is not attached with hardware. Part of my, seemingly, lackadaisical approach stems from the general truth that my guy is a relatively cautious kiddo--he is quick to reach out a hand to step off of the curb into the sandbox sand and is just now okay with "swinging fast".

We "try" to encourage reasonable risk taking and eagerly anticipate his first time rock climbing (he has to be four for much of it) experience. We want him to ride, run, swim and play fearlessly as he grows...but in order to have him do so, it feels like we need to set aside our own fears and anxieties. I really wrestle with how much hovering may be too much and how free range may be too excessive.

My wife used to play down at the creek by herself when she was in elementary school. I would spend hours in the pastures around our home when I was little, climbing trees and imagining adventures. I would ride the horses along the road side and pedal my way up and down our dirt drive.

I'm not certain how much of the kind of freedom to play and explore which I took for granted as a child I would allow for my own child. Largely because, God forbid, if something happened...

But what are the odds, really?

Check out this site Free Range Kids, worth reading and reflecting!

Secondary Trauma

When I worked at the children's hospital I learned about secondary trauma--the trauma undergone by those who hear about or witness the AFTERMATH of a traumatic situation. Secondary trauma can lead to PTSD symptoms (and PTSD) in those who are subject to it.

I found this to be true as I worked with and witnessed to the various diseases, disasters and deaths that peppered each and every work day. Sleeplessness, flash backs (for a solid year I could taste blood in my mouth every time I thought of a particular day at work), and other symptoms were fairly common for me.

Now I am several years out from these traumas--yet, having had the experience of such tangible and immediate and obviously traumatic situations, I wonder...

Does the mere act of reading/watching the news lead to secondary trauma for the general population--and the attendant possibility of PTSD? Because, I find that if I read news of awful things happening to children, it affects my sleep and my mood. In fact, reading the google newsfeed can make me feel much as I did when I was witnessing the deaths of children day in and day out. I also find that the degree of graphic detail often shared in the news/radio/blog (can't speak to television, don't have one hooked up) can be nauseating.

Methinks that this can't be healthy--for anyone. Do we really need to know the gruesome details? Do we need to have such immediate access to the "train wreck" as it were? What do you think? How do you think this level of detail and connectedness affects/effects you and yours in your day to day life?

The Here and the Now

Little (growing bigger by the second) H is asleep. A thunderstorm rolled in around 3:45am and the rolling booms, pouring rain, and strobe like lightning show flashing beyond my eyelids has had me up since.

"Boom, boom, boom, Mr. Brown is a wonder. Boom, boom, boom, Mr. Brown makes thunder."

Thank you, Mr. Brown.

Now...to the rain soaked here and now. The front door is open onto the screened porch, the better to hear the rain now that I've given up on sleep. A cup of coffee, milky with a touch of maple syrup, has been poured and sits on the table next to the Revised Common Lectionary; my beloved's journal of H's life thus far; and a personality test that she took for work.

Apparently, I am equally lion and otter. Not so much golden retriever and beaver.

On the lion side of things...My strengths: takes charge; problem solver; competitive; enjoys change; confrontational.
My weaknesses: too direct or impatient; too busy; cold blooded; impulsive or takes big risks; insensitive to others.

The busy beaver says, strengths: optimistic; energetic; motivators; future oriented. The weaknesses in this beaver's dam: unrealistic; impatient or over bearing; manipulative or pushy; avoids details or lacks follow through.

Okay, so fundamentally I am a impatient, take charge kind of gal who dreams big and drags those lucky enough to be in her wake along for the ride (*lucky*). "Ooooh, ooohhh, (waves hand frantically in the air) I have a GREAT idea (bounces up and down in chair)" . So, wanna hang out?

The rain is still pouring. My running buddy is picking me up at 7:45am for a short (for her) painful (for me) run along the Mississippi (which at this rate may mean two streets over...geez, this is a lot of rain!).

Time for more coffee...this cup has grown chill.

Proper 11, Year A, Jacob, Harry Potter and the Gnashing of Teeth

I have not seen any of the Harry Potter films. Apart from a preview or two, here and there, my eyes have not witnessed the on screen phenomena that seems to have gripped a good chunk of this country.

This, however, is not to say that I have not read the books. I have, multiple times. Even now, more than a decade after the initial release of the first book I still find myself reaching for my well thumbed copy of the first book.

But, I have avoided the films...largely because I want my own visions, my own imaginings of the "Potterverse" to remain untainted by someone else's interpretation. I want to close my eyes and see for myself without being told or shown another person's version of the story. I want it to remain MY encounter with the marvelous.

And, in some ways, as I reflect on this coming Sunday's propers I find myself drawn into scripture in much the way I am drawn into the work of J.K. Rowling. Yes, you read that right--I just compared my emotional reaction to scripture to my reaction to Harry Potter. As I read of Jacob: I can imagine the ascent of the ladder; I can hear within my heart the words of God; I can feel the stone beneath my head. The scripture draws me in for an encounter with God. And, in this encounter the gate of heaven stands open and we can gaze beyond to the promise of God's presence in our midst. We can ask ourselves where we have found God in our lives and we can imagine how it may be that God is calling us back into God's presence.

Now, these understandings, these wonderings and questionings are not scripted by anyone else. My own encounter with this text has not been televised or interpreted by another (apart from the inherent interpretation which occurs in the translation of scripture from the Hebrew); it is my own understanding--an understanding gained through my own contexts. Indeed, through the application of tradition and reason I can enter the world of scripture. And, it is a world of drama; intrigue; miracle and murder. A place, much like the world in which we live--evil and grace dwell together and we witness to folk wrestling with the reality of both in their lives.

Now, back to Harry Potter...
The plight of young Harry draws me in--his coming of age, developing friendships, curiosity, bravery and his repeated confrontations with forces of evil are compelling.

And, what I find most interesting is the simple truth at the center of much of the plot--people are neither wholly good nor wholly evil. The good people make mistakes; seemingly bad people are found to have love in their hearts...and this, is indeed true to our lives in the here and the now. Good and evil occupy the same hearts--and whilst I may seek to discern the good I am sometimes drawn into the evil. This is a truth we encounter in the Gospel for this coming Sunday...as the weeds and the good wheat grow together. Nourished by the same sun, rain and loamy soil...good and bad rise together. Yet, rather than pull up the weeds willy nilly, the farmer speaks a truth--if the weeds are pulled the wheat goes with it. The good is lost along with the bad and the wheat does not stand a chance.

Now, we have recently moved into a new home with a well established garden. However, the garden has been let go a bit and the perennials are in sore need of dividing and large and seemingly misplaced plants are thriving in the midst of what are clearly cultivated perennials. Yet, I have done very little weeding. Largely because I am not sure which are weeds and which are flowers. So, I bide my time and wait. Once the plants are full grown it will be clearer and I can then sort and order and divide.

We are not to pull up the weeds, we are not to destroy--because when we do so we lose the ability to seek and nourish the good. Both within ourselves and within others.

To flip things over on their head...as we wrestle with the problem of evil in the world do we lose sight of the good that is in with the bad? Can we leave the judgment to the power of God's redeeming love and see the goodness in our midst? Nothing and no one is either all good or all bad. The role of confession in our liturgy is a weekly reminder of this truth. We have good and bad within our own hearts. This Gospel is not about others, it is about ourselves...are we willing to allow God's love to draw forth our goodness and leave behind the evil?

Back, again, to Harry Potter...how would the books, and indeed the movies, have been different if the love that Snape felt had been nourished? If rather than childhood bullying and exclusion he had experienced gentleness and love?

Still...he says, still.

Long Time No See

Change...big changes, have been afoot in the Reverend Joy household for a bit now.

And, it's all my fault!

When our boykins was about 3 months old I did a wedding in another state (a wonderful privilege and honor to join two of the most delightful women I know!). It was an idyllic time of long walks along the river, some of the best sleep we'd had (oh little did we know) as mamas of a newborn and we found ourselves connecting with tons of youngish professionals with whom we had much in common.

Then we went back to Ohio--to our small town full of retired folk; about an hour from good friends who we never actually saw; the state where we not only couldn't legally marry (altho' when God and your mother-in-law consider you married who are you going to argue with!) but could not both be legal parents to our son.

So, I got mad, then I got to thinking. What did we need to do for our happiness? Not for success, not according to rules of church, of society or even the wishes of friends...for happiness. And, thankfully I'm married to a doer...someone who makes firm decisions and then handles the details to make those big picture crazy dreams I've dreamt come true.

Which is how we've found ourselves living in a much more progressive city; having downsized our carbon footprint; cut down immensely on work hours and spending much more time together as a family. Oh, and altho' legal marriage for same sex couple is going to be hotly contested here in the next couple of years, second parent adoption IS in fact legal. So, legal protection for our boy and amending that birth certificate that just looks SO wrong...well that will be in the near future!

So, what is it that you need for happiness? What are you dreaming? What are your hopes?