People have asked me -- why do you love your job?
Let me try to explain.
I love my job because, inevitably, when I get to PSH in the morning, someone will be at the door waiting for me. It is either JP, who opens the door and says "good morning, sunshine" or "good morning, shorty" or it will be DH who opens the door and, in her typical manner, gives me a full report of what she has done in the last 15 hours since I've been gone. "I talked to my brother, my brother called at 5:37 and we talked for four and a half minutes. My brother and I talked last night, we had a good conversation..." I listen through her pressured way of speaking, through her anxious chatter, and am glad for her sweet interest in our friendship, for her desire to update me on things. I can count on DH to come into my office at least five or six times before noon to tell me that she's home, that she got a piece of mail, that she talked with so and so, that she ate breakfast. Her constant presence, and her obsessive need to report everything, can be taxing. But I can also count on DH being the first to say hello, for wondering what I did last night, for thanking me for doing her leg care each morning.
When I am passing meds in the morning, I have the joy of seeing about half of the residents at PSH. When I am popping their pills or administering eye drops or nasal sprays, I hear about how they slept -- or didn't sleep. JS says "good morning, little lady, I'm doing fine" and tells me how he stayed up all night watching cowboy movies. He has a large wooden cross clipped to his belt; sometimes he has a bible or one of his cowboy VHS tapes. LS tells me she's giving up her pills for lent. I tell her that it's not lent yet, and she tells me that she's going to give her pills to me for Christmas. We laugh and she takes them. Sometime during the morning, she'll come back and say "what's cooking, good looking?"
Other residents come through, sometimes with jokes, sometimes with demons.
"I'm just tired of all this!" says PS. "Tired of what?" I ask carefully. "Of the voices! Of the outsiders!" I am back to awareness of how exhausting it must be to hear voices, to constantly wonder what's real and what's delusion. Oh, Lord, touch their minds. Still them a little. Bring a little peace today. New mercies, new mercies. After I apply cream, before she leaves the office, she tells me she's sorry for hollering, and tells me she loves me with all her heart, soul, and mind. I remind her that actually we both love Jesus that way. She agrees.
I ask HH how his linguistics article is coming along. JM comes to the meds window to look at me closely, "Are you Desiree?" Yes, I am. He walks away satisfied. NC is applying makeup in the lobby. CH reminds me that I am an angel, and I can ask Jesus about why he made me an angel when I get to heaven.
I will take someone to an appointment -- to see the foot doctor or the eye doctor or the family doctor or the sleep doctor. Who knew that I would become so invested in the health and well-being -- physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual -- of so many people who were strangers only four months ago?
I will do someone's laundry, make someone's bed, sometimes check rooms/sheets/clothing for incontinence. I will help someone with their shower; I'll comb someone's hair. I will listen, as best as I can, to someone in tears about something. I will try to calm; I will try to pray forth Jesus' calm. I will pray with someone in my office, in their bedroom.
Lunchtime always comes quickly -- where DID the morning go? -- and we will all sit together and eat. I just love this time of day with my residents and the other staff, all of us glad to sit, energized again together to keep going, to tackle to-do lists, to ward off the false voices, to confront challenges, to find moments of sabbath rest, to trust Jesus and his perfect peace. We'll take turns wiping tables, washing dishes, cleaning up from the meal, and then we'll sit together again for prayer and feeding ourselves in a different way. We sing hymns and read scripture and lift our prayers before the Lord. I fight tears each time RY plays the piano, BB shares something of her story, SV sings a song. Each person's healing in Jesus is miraculous. Each time someone can speak beauty from the pain they've experienced, I am reminded of how broken and beautiful we are, all of us beggars looking for bread, all of us ministers to one another. These are holy times together. PSH is a holy place.
The rest of the afternoon is filled with similar things -- perhaps I'll take CM for a walk around the building a few times. I'll get reports from residents who've had appointments; I'll update the shift logs and write some progress notes, I'll call doctors and psychiatrists and the pharmacy about medications. I'll yawn. I'll return laundry. I'll linger in the lobby for a few minutes to hear about someone's day. I'll receive and hang up someone's artwork in my office. Maybe someone's have a meltdown, maybe someone's spiraling into psychosis, maybe a team meeting happens, or Crisis gets involved. But at the end of the day, when it's time for me to clock out, there is always a chorus of goodbyes and "see ya later"s and "thanks for what you did"s. I'll go home then, and I'll take with me these people who have so easily, so comfortably entered my circle of care.
It is easy to be on my knees in this work, dependent daily on the grace and love and compassion that comes only from Jesus. It is easy to be tired in this work, for the emotional and spiritual investment, and the mental and physical energy required. It is easy to be thankful in this work, for God's provision and presence, for flooding my days with abundant love and silliness.
Good days, these. Good job, this.
7/11/11
6/5/11
"why" by wendell berry
Why all the embarrassment
about being happy?
Sometimes I'm as happy
as a sleeping dog,
and for the same reasons,
and for others.
about being happy?
Sometimes I'm as happy
as a sleeping dog,
and for the same reasons,
and for others.
5/31/11
stability
I recently finished reading "Wisdom of Stability" by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. (I had read parts of it a few months ago when I wasn't really ready to read it.) I picked it up again and was finally able to appreciate his message of the importance of stability, of commitment to a people and place, of choosing to stay and stick it out.
I learned that there are reasons -- besides a general restlessness and wanderlust in me at all times -- for my desire to go and do something meaningful with my life elsewhere, and experience life away from what I've known as "home". Namely, we live in a hyper-mobile culture, and paces of life are only getting faster and we are far more connected to and dependent on technology and have more access to opportunities than ever before. While technology and what we call "progress" present a convincing argument that they are good things for us, I'm starting to think that we are not fully calculating the loss, and how restless and impatient we are becoming because of it.
"Wisdom of Stability" offers an interesting perspective on staying and committing to a community, driving a deliberate spoke in the wheel of constant motion we individually and collectively experience as victims of and participants in unsustainable ways of living that govern our hyper-mobile culture (in North America). (Longest sentence ever??)
These are some excerpts I pulled from the book. Enjoy these morsels of food for thought --
"Stability is a commitment to trust God not in an ideal world, but in the battered and bruised world we know. Community is always a risk. We cannot know beforehand who will stay and who will leave. But each decision to stay -- every prayer lifted up from our half-born condition -- can be seen as an act of faith that our God will give us what we need."
"Stability of heart does not come naturally. But the simple rhythms of tending to body and soul -- making oatmeal and saying prayers, keeping house and singing songs -- bring me back to a center, to a still point that is fixed in this place."
"In whatever place you find yourself, do not easily leave it." - Abba Anthony
"Your.... community is for you a grace, a gift from God, and a mission, a task to accomplish." - Augustine Roberts.
"What we hardly ever want to admit is that we are limited creatures. Subject to the confines of time and space, we cannot be anywhere, anytime. As a matter of fact, we can only be in this place, now."
"The practice of stability, then, is an exercise in putting down roots. A good tree bears good fruit, we know, and the fruit of the Spirit begins with love. But we are product-oriented people, eager to skip over the process and enjoy the apple without attending to the soil and sun and roots that help it grow. All of us would love to be more loving, but we spend precious little time establishing roots of love. Without them, though, the tree withers and there is neither fruit nor shade nor a branch to tie a swing on and enjoy a summer evening."
"Stay put and pay attention -- learn to trust God in the place where you are -- and you will have a front seat for the revolution that Christian tradition calls conversion. Stability transforms us along with the place where we are."
"To grow in the practice of stability is to learn how to discern when we are called to stay and when God wants us to go."
"Maybe none of us are safe to respond to God's call until we've stayed put long enough to face our demons."
I learned that there are reasons -- besides a general restlessness and wanderlust in me at all times -- for my desire to go and do something meaningful with my life elsewhere, and experience life away from what I've known as "home". Namely, we live in a hyper-mobile culture, and paces of life are only getting faster and we are far more connected to and dependent on technology and have more access to opportunities than ever before. While technology and what we call "progress" present a convincing argument that they are good things for us, I'm starting to think that we are not fully calculating the loss, and how restless and impatient we are becoming because of it.
"Wisdom of Stability" offers an interesting perspective on staying and committing to a community, driving a deliberate spoke in the wheel of constant motion we individually and collectively experience as victims of and participants in unsustainable ways of living that govern our hyper-mobile culture (in North America). (Longest sentence ever??)
These are some excerpts I pulled from the book. Enjoy these morsels of food for thought --
"Stability is a commitment to trust God not in an ideal world, but in the battered and bruised world we know. Community is always a risk. We cannot know beforehand who will stay and who will leave. But each decision to stay -- every prayer lifted up from our half-born condition -- can be seen as an act of faith that our God will give us what we need."
"Stability of heart does not come naturally. But the simple rhythms of tending to body and soul -- making oatmeal and saying prayers, keeping house and singing songs -- bring me back to a center, to a still point that is fixed in this place."
"In whatever place you find yourself, do not easily leave it." - Abba Anthony
"Your.... community is for you a grace, a gift from God, and a mission, a task to accomplish." - Augustine Roberts.
"What we hardly ever want to admit is that we are limited creatures. Subject to the confines of time and space, we cannot be anywhere, anytime. As a matter of fact, we can only be in this place, now."
"The practice of stability, then, is an exercise in putting down roots. A good tree bears good fruit, we know, and the fruit of the Spirit begins with love. But we are product-oriented people, eager to skip over the process and enjoy the apple without attending to the soil and sun and roots that help it grow. All of us would love to be more loving, but we spend precious little time establishing roots of love. Without them, though, the tree withers and there is neither fruit nor shade nor a branch to tie a swing on and enjoy a summer evening."
"Stay put and pay attention -- learn to trust God in the place where you are -- and you will have a front seat for the revolution that Christian tradition calls conversion. Stability transforms us along with the place where we are."
"To grow in the practice of stability is to learn how to discern when we are called to stay and when God wants us to go."
"Maybe none of us are safe to respond to God's call until we've stayed put long enough to face our demons."
5/21/11
decisions
Each decision we make is a single "yes" and about a thousand "no's" to all the other things.
I had a few minutes earlier this week when I remembered many things that could have happened, that weren't meant to be, that could have changed everything-- but didn't. I remembered these things specifically during a small window of time -- post-college, pre-Habitat.
I was really only planning to be in Harrisburg for a few months after college; I was going to move onto bigger and better things -- I thought I was going to be in either Cambodia or India with MCC's SALT Program for a year, but they didn't fit. I remember waking up one morning, as I was nearing the time to make a decision about this, and felt an overwhelming sense that this was not what God had for me. God's peace wasn't there.
My focus changed to MVS programs all over the US, and I almost was a Big Brother Big Sister case manager in Indiana. But as I talked with my would-be supervisor, I realized that I did not feel led to go to Indiana. When I was offered a position in North Dakota, doing a similar work, I had the same feeling.
Then I threw myself into applying for Americorps jobs. And when I was on a roadtrip with Katie and we camped and my phone shut down and I missed the call from a refugee resettlement agency in Eerie, PA that wanted me to work with moms and children in the community, I remember sitting on the sidewalk outside a used bookstore in Namelesstown, GA, bawling. This was, what I thought, the closest thing to a dream job I could muster up in my imagination, and I chose to go camping and passively passed up this opportunity (or maybe that this opportunity passed up me).
When I returned to Harrisburg, after some pivotal conversations at Koinonia Farm and Jubilee with other wanderers and people trying to live faithfully and obey Jesus, I thought I would give Harrisburg a legitimate try. Soon after I stayed in Allison Hill and realized that learning to be a good neighbor was going to take many more months (and years!) than the few I had committed to, I decided that maybe I should look into longer-term work in Harrisburg and continue growing there and stay put for a while.
That's when I almost decided to work for Salvation Army (in the development office, which would have been the worst fit, now that I look back on it). But the day before I was going to call my would-be boss and accept the position, I woke in the middle of night with my mind racing with all the reasons why I was going to quit my job there. Although the dream was vague and, well, a dream, the feeling that came from that dream was clear: don't work there; there's something else. In that very moment, it was that feeling that led me to sign onto Craigslist and see the Habitat position posted. And, at four o'clock in the morning, when I am clearest in my mind, I decided to submit an application on Habitat's website. There were a few more steps after this, but within two months, I was working at Habitat in Harrisburg.
I am getting better at decisions. I am getting better at understanding that each decision that we make, although it involves much thinking and prayer for some of us, is really just a decision -- with a ripple effect that far exceeds any kind of ability we might have to predict what's to come. Yes, it means saying no to a thousand (or more!) opportunities elsewhere, doing other things, becoming other people, loving other people, but those of us who seek to love Jesus in our lives also seek to make decisions that honor God, to take active steps toward what God desires for us. I could have been a thousand different people, doing a thousand different things, but I'm not. By God's grace, through one of my "yes's" and one of God's "go-ahead's", I am growing into the person God calls me to be, given the circumstances I find myself in ... someone who loves the troubled neighborhood she lives in, loves her wonderful neighbors, has some faith, has some doubts, has a community with which she can grow in faith and air out her doubts, someone who is delighted by the way the sun casts a warm glow on her room in the morning and gives thanks for the things that grow in her backyard, shared meals and shared living, and awareness of God's goodness in the presence and care of the two sisters she prays with each morning.
Some of these things were decided, some of them just happened. How much did I decide; how much were things already decided for me? What of the will of God, anyway -- and vocation, and God's call? I'm not thinking philosophically or trying to dissect this theologically -- just grateful, just present, just glad something was decided, both then and now. Just glad for the faithfulness of God.
I had a few minutes earlier this week when I remembered many things that could have happened, that weren't meant to be, that could have changed everything-- but didn't. I remembered these things specifically during a small window of time -- post-college, pre-Habitat.
I was really only planning to be in Harrisburg for a few months after college; I was going to move onto bigger and better things -- I thought I was going to be in either Cambodia or India with MCC's SALT Program for a year, but they didn't fit. I remember waking up one morning, as I was nearing the time to make a decision about this, and felt an overwhelming sense that this was not what God had for me. God's peace wasn't there.
My focus changed to MVS programs all over the US, and I almost was a Big Brother Big Sister case manager in Indiana. But as I talked with my would-be supervisor, I realized that I did not feel led to go to Indiana. When I was offered a position in North Dakota, doing a similar work, I had the same feeling.
Then I threw myself into applying for Americorps jobs. And when I was on a roadtrip with Katie and we camped and my phone shut down and I missed the call from a refugee resettlement agency in Eerie, PA that wanted me to work with moms and children in the community, I remember sitting on the sidewalk outside a used bookstore in Namelesstown, GA, bawling. This was, what I thought, the closest thing to a dream job I could muster up in my imagination, and I chose to go camping and passively passed up this opportunity (or maybe that this opportunity passed up me).
When I returned to Harrisburg, after some pivotal conversations at Koinonia Farm and Jubilee with other wanderers and people trying to live faithfully and obey Jesus, I thought I would give Harrisburg a legitimate try. Soon after I stayed in Allison Hill and realized that learning to be a good neighbor was going to take many more months (and years!) than the few I had committed to, I decided that maybe I should look into longer-term work in Harrisburg and continue growing there and stay put for a while.
That's when I almost decided to work for Salvation Army (in the development office, which would have been the worst fit, now that I look back on it). But the day before I was going to call my would-be boss and accept the position, I woke in the middle of night with my mind racing with all the reasons why I was going to quit my job there. Although the dream was vague and, well, a dream, the feeling that came from that dream was clear: don't work there; there's something else. In that very moment, it was that feeling that led me to sign onto Craigslist and see the Habitat position posted. And, at four o'clock in the morning, when I am clearest in my mind, I decided to submit an application on Habitat's website. There were a few more steps after this, but within two months, I was working at Habitat in Harrisburg.
I am getting better at decisions. I am getting better at understanding that each decision that we make, although it involves much thinking and prayer for some of us, is really just a decision -- with a ripple effect that far exceeds any kind of ability we might have to predict what's to come. Yes, it means saying no to a thousand (or more!) opportunities elsewhere, doing other things, becoming other people, loving other people, but those of us who seek to love Jesus in our lives also seek to make decisions that honor God, to take active steps toward what God desires for us. I could have been a thousand different people, doing a thousand different things, but I'm not. By God's grace, through one of my "yes's" and one of God's "go-ahead's", I am growing into the person God calls me to be, given the circumstances I find myself in ... someone who loves the troubled neighborhood she lives in, loves her wonderful neighbors, has some faith, has some doubts, has a community with which she can grow in faith and air out her doubts, someone who is delighted by the way the sun casts a warm glow on her room in the morning and gives thanks for the things that grow in her backyard, shared meals and shared living, and awareness of God's goodness in the presence and care of the two sisters she prays with each morning.
Some of these things were decided, some of them just happened. How much did I decide; how much were things already decided for me? What of the will of God, anyway -- and vocation, and God's call? I'm not thinking philosophically or trying to dissect this theologically -- just grateful, just present, just glad something was decided, both then and now. Just glad for the faithfulness of God.
5/16/11
growing in community, planting
"...Upon this garden
may your stars rain down their blessed dust.
May you send rain and sunshine upon our garden and us.
Grant us the humility to touch the humus,
that we might become more human,
that we might mend our rift from your creation,
that we might then know the sacredness of the gift of life,
that we might truly experience life from your hand.
For you planted humanity in a garden
and began our resurrection in a garden.
Our blessed memory and hope lie in a garden.
...
Thanks be to God."
-common prayer.
5/11/11
lessons, learned. (lessons, learning)
When I really think about everything that has happened in the last two months, when I step out of the reality of right now and look at life as I know it from a more objective, removed perspective, I am puzzled by what God has done, what God does.
For those interested, Thailand is right where I left it, on my heart, in my thoughts, sometimes ebbing in and out of dreams I have when I sleep, but is not in my day-to-day. I pray for a team to mobilize and go with Servants, the organization I have been journeying with for the last year or so, but the opportunity I have to go with this pending team is on the altar. I will continue to pray, whether or not God will invite me to be part of the team when the time comes.
What IS in my day-to-day is an eclectic community of beautiful people with varying mental capacities and illnesses, and it is a growing joy to be there with them. God's yes to PSH has turned into a blossoming gift. I don't deserve it, but it's beautiful and fragrant, and sometimes I get overwhelmed when I really think about how all these things came to be, how perfect the way is when I let it open on its own. PSH fits. The personal/spiritual side of ministry blends with the professional side of social services. The people make me laugh; upon occasion they make me cry. B sang a beautiful song about trusting Jesus during devotions. K picked me a couple sprigs of my favorite flower. J has a smile that stretches ear to ear, all day everyday. Things that happen there make me cry in other ways, too. Psychosis is awful, mental illness is a terrible thing, and I can only walk so far with my new friends in their darknesses. I pray with and for them, I try to put aside the to-do list to really hear the pain out of which they are speaking. I can be frustrated and impatient, too, and God is quicker to convict me of selfish feelings or unfair expectations for others. Plato's challenge rings truer in different ways each day - "be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." I seek to draw on God's grace for the energy, love, joy, and grace itself that's required for each day. I fall short, and I fall hard. But sometimes there is just enough of everything, and I see God's directing hand everywhere. Jesus hangs out at PSH.
I am learning about tough love; God only knows how much I have had to unlearn about "love". Tough love for my residents, tough love for my friends. I am learning about the goodness and terribleness of honesty. More than these, I am learning about the good and terrible importance of honesty.
I am learning about letting things die that need to. Things have died, things are dying (including, very sadly, so many seedlings! To a farmer's market soon!)
I am learning how to not take myself so seriously.
I am learning how to play the recorder so that when we gather for common prayer, we can at least figure out the tune of the song we are singing.
I am learning why it is so good to have people who know you from other times in your life. I am learning why it is so good to delegate tasks in the kitchen. I am learning how to delegate. I am learning how to let someone else do the dishes and cook the meal -- and also to eat and enjoy it! I am learning how to read novels and not just spiritual books. I am learning how to do nothing. I am learning how to get what I need, and not feel guilty.
For those interested, Thailand is right where I left it, on my heart, in my thoughts, sometimes ebbing in and out of dreams I have when I sleep, but is not in my day-to-day. I pray for a team to mobilize and go with Servants, the organization I have been journeying with for the last year or so, but the opportunity I have to go with this pending team is on the altar. I will continue to pray, whether or not God will invite me to be part of the team when the time comes.
What IS in my day-to-day is an eclectic community of beautiful people with varying mental capacities and illnesses, and it is a growing joy to be there with them. God's yes to PSH has turned into a blossoming gift. I don't deserve it, but it's beautiful and fragrant, and sometimes I get overwhelmed when I really think about how all these things came to be, how perfect the way is when I let it open on its own. PSH fits. The personal/spiritual side of ministry blends with the professional side of social services. The people make me laugh; upon occasion they make me cry. B sang a beautiful song about trusting Jesus during devotions. K picked me a couple sprigs of my favorite flower. J has a smile that stretches ear to ear, all day everyday. Things that happen there make me cry in other ways, too. Psychosis is awful, mental illness is a terrible thing, and I can only walk so far with my new friends in their darknesses. I pray with and for them, I try to put aside the to-do list to really hear the pain out of which they are speaking. I can be frustrated and impatient, too, and God is quicker to convict me of selfish feelings or unfair expectations for others. Plato's challenge rings truer in different ways each day - "be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." I seek to draw on God's grace for the energy, love, joy, and grace itself that's required for each day. I fall short, and I fall hard. But sometimes there is just enough of everything, and I see God's directing hand everywhere. Jesus hangs out at PSH.
I am learning about tough love; God only knows how much I have had to unlearn about "love". Tough love for my residents, tough love for my friends. I am learning about the goodness and terribleness of honesty. More than these, I am learning about the good and terrible importance of honesty.
I am learning about letting things die that need to. Things have died, things are dying (including, very sadly, so many seedlings! To a farmer's market soon!)
I am learning how to not take myself so seriously.
I am learning how to play the recorder so that when we gather for common prayer, we can at least figure out the tune of the song we are singing.
I am learning why it is so good to have people who know you from other times in your life. I am learning why it is so good to delegate tasks in the kitchen. I am learning how to delegate. I am learning how to let someone else do the dishes and cook the meal -- and also to eat and enjoy it! I am learning how to read novels and not just spiritual books. I am learning how to do nothing. I am learning how to get what I need, and not feel guilty.
movement
I hiked Hawk Mountain last week with a good friend. Near the middle of our hike, we sat on the top and watched hawks -- 20 or 30 of them -- swooping up and down, in between trees, near the mountain, between hills. They seemed to be everywhere, effortlessly gliding through the air. There was power in their flight.
Apparently, Hawk Mountain is named for the many hawks that are naturally drawn to it; there is something in the air flow, the position of the mountains. They know where the wind moves and supports flight, and are compelled to be in it.
I should like to be like those hawks -- unaware of anything else but the inner pull toward the Wind. I should like to dive into where the Wind moves, to catch the drift, to flap my feeble wings from time to time in flight.
Apparently, Hawk Mountain is named for the many hawks that are naturally drawn to it; there is something in the air flow, the position of the mountains. They know where the wind moves and supports flight, and are compelled to be in it.
I should like to be like those hawks -- unaware of anything else but the inner pull toward the Wind. I should like to dive into where the Wind moves, to catch the drift, to flap my feeble wings from time to time in flight.
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