I am doing my chaplain internship at a hospital and it seems to be the equal of the most awkward small talk that ever was born. Please (hear my sarcasm), let my introvert self (who is also an enneagram 4 and a Scorpio with a Taurus moon and a Chiron wounded healer in her chart) walk into numerous bedrooms of medically suffering people and ask "How are you? What brings you to the hospital?" The MOST intrusive and personal question that I have no right to ask, but that is how we are trained to enter a room, after introducing ourselves.
This has been a hard summer. I want to be there for people - truly I do. But they don't know me! And - sometimes - I pray with people - and even though I am mostly a Queer agnostic (the agnostic is mostly, the Queer is complete) I love to pray with people. I love to ask the names they use for the Sacred (when I am praying for someone else, Jesus is my homie - when I am praying for myself, Jesus is not a part of it - but thus is the role of a chaplain) and I love, love, love the intimate sharing of the Spirit that praying becomes. Perhaps I should wear a sign that says, "Loves to pray! Just ask!" But - not everyone wants a prayer and we shouldn't pressure. So many shouldn'ts and so many awkwards and so many "I have no fucking idea what I am doing. Please, please let me pray with you."
Nadia - I am just grateful for you. and a little jealous of the downhomeness that AA offers, even though I haven't paid the price for that downhomeness. Bless you. I will pray with you anytime, anywhere. As a Lesbian - I would be happy to bless those new breasts:) (is that offensive? It's not meant to be - I apologize in case.) Much love...
Ha! We call them "foobs" around here. I love everything about you note. How amazing that you love to pray with people. That is worth listening to...and makes me glad you are on this path!
Keep at it. A CPE internship is the first step in learning about who you are as a chaplain. It is awkward, but you eventually become more comfortable at finding yourself in the midst of the most devastating time in people's lives.
You are so right, Nadia. I wonder how many of us have avoided talking about ourselves and our “secrets” because we don’t trust that others will often welcome ,share,and understand.
I absolutley adore you and every word you write. You are the most darkly hilariously honest human I have the honor of reading regularly. thank you is a puny offering, given your great gift of generisity of spirit, to the world, to the broken and grieving, but here it is, thank you.
Oh, how many times your stories have had me laughing and crying at the same! Trying to find a Presbyterian church that I could live with when I moved back to my roots in the South, after many years in the West, I duly visited churches, went through being courted as a potential new member (who would work on a committee, and and pledge), attended fellowship hours, and didn't return because the language and the vibe weren't inclusive. Then, during one such hour, a lovely older woman invited me to her Sunday school class, and said: today would be my late husband's 35th sobriety date so I buried his chip in the memorial garden this morning. What?? This was a Junior Leaguer emeritus, not a recovering drunk! I blurted out, "I have 12 years!" She was my sponsor for years, and I often lead that Sunday school class in quite subversive studies. I've been "home" now for 15 more years in recovery, and so grateful that I was recognized as someone who would know what a chip is.
She buried his chip! What a testimony. At the cathedral where I preach / attend, they ask during the prayers for those celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and anniversaries of sobriety to come up for a blessing!
I feel exactly the same way about belonging to my fellowship of people who have tried to end their lives and failed. We survived and discovered joy yet remain heartbroken for those who didn't.
Wow, how could you be the thing in one of these things is not like the others. I thought that was my title. In elementary school, Red Rover was terrifying to me. If I couldn't be on the end so that my poor skinny polio arm wouldn't be crashed by some gigantic boy, I had to stand with the teacher who always wanted me to join in. Did she not understand that Red Rover would send someone over who'd break my arm right off? I will never love that game. But I can laugh about it now and by gosh I love your writing, your self. Linda Clare at The Deep End
Thank you for this Nadia. Grieving shows up in many ways in waves. Inadequacy, guilt, anger and often times “you don’t know these things so I cannot admit I’m not finished with them yet”. Small talk is the worst! So shock them with a deeper meaningful question. Inquire. Learn. You don’t have to talk be there to listen to whoever it’s only temporary. The foods just as good and just maybe you made a difference. I learned this and also that it’s not always about me.
The trick is finding that deep connection with someone - for you, the body art tells a story that others can read. It is an "easy" way to spot a fellow traveler for others our age who lived a similar experience. For me, the father of an adult child on the autism spectrum, similar connection is possible but only with careful questions and revealing of my own vulnerabilities. Tough to do while balancing brisket on your lap and talking to strangers. Makes me wonder if we should wear buttons that say things like "ask me about [insert personal struggle]" or something just to provide a different ice breaker. Nobody wants to talk about weather or politics - could this be a new thing?
Thank you. That's all. Just thanks. Be well, stay well. And, thank you.
What a gift you are… even, or maybe particularly, when you don’t think you are…
Bless you!
Thank you, Claudia
Oh Nadia. I needed to read this today. Love that last line. I need to embrace feeling less special and more human.
I am doing my chaplain internship at a hospital and it seems to be the equal of the most awkward small talk that ever was born. Please (hear my sarcasm), let my introvert self (who is also an enneagram 4 and a Scorpio with a Taurus moon and a Chiron wounded healer in her chart) walk into numerous bedrooms of medically suffering people and ask "How are you? What brings you to the hospital?" The MOST intrusive and personal question that I have no right to ask, but that is how we are trained to enter a room, after introducing ourselves.
This has been a hard summer. I want to be there for people - truly I do. But they don't know me! And - sometimes - I pray with people - and even though I am mostly a Queer agnostic (the agnostic is mostly, the Queer is complete) I love to pray with people. I love to ask the names they use for the Sacred (when I am praying for someone else, Jesus is my homie - when I am praying for myself, Jesus is not a part of it - but thus is the role of a chaplain) and I love, love, love the intimate sharing of the Spirit that praying becomes. Perhaps I should wear a sign that says, "Loves to pray! Just ask!" But - not everyone wants a prayer and we shouldn't pressure. So many shouldn'ts and so many awkwards and so many "I have no fucking idea what I am doing. Please, please let me pray with you."
Nadia - I am just grateful for you. and a little jealous of the downhomeness that AA offers, even though I haven't paid the price for that downhomeness. Bless you. I will pray with you anytime, anywhere. As a Lesbian - I would be happy to bless those new breasts:) (is that offensive? It's not meant to be - I apologize in case.) Much love...
Ha! We call them "foobs" around here. I love everything about you note. How amazing that you love to pray with people. That is worth listening to...and makes me glad you are on this path!
Keep at it. A CPE internship is the first step in learning about who you are as a chaplain. It is awkward, but you eventually become more comfortable at finding yourself in the midst of the most devastating time in people's lives.
You are so right, Nadia. I wonder how many of us have avoided talking about ourselves and our “secrets” because we don’t trust that others will often welcome ,share,and understand.
This is so lovely. Thank you.
Your soul is fertile from challenge and sadness and trauma, just waiting for the seeds of love and mercy to grow and heal others. Thank you, Nadia.
Life's graces embrace
Loving hugs to you
I absolutley adore you and every word you write. You are the most darkly hilariously honest human I have the honor of reading regularly. thank you is a puny offering, given your great gift of generisity of spirit, to the world, to the broken and grieving, but here it is, thank you.
thank, nancy!
Thank you for this reminder!
♥️🙏🏻💜
Oh, how many times your stories have had me laughing and crying at the same! Trying to find a Presbyterian church that I could live with when I moved back to my roots in the South, after many years in the West, I duly visited churches, went through being courted as a potential new member (who would work on a committee, and and pledge), attended fellowship hours, and didn't return because the language and the vibe weren't inclusive. Then, during one such hour, a lovely older woman invited me to her Sunday school class, and said: today would be my late husband's 35th sobriety date so I buried his chip in the memorial garden this morning. What?? This was a Junior Leaguer emeritus, not a recovering drunk! I blurted out, "I have 12 years!" She was my sponsor for years, and I often lead that Sunday school class in quite subversive studies. I've been "home" now for 15 more years in recovery, and so grateful that I was recognized as someone who would know what a chip is.
Thank you, as always, Nadia.
She buried his chip! What a testimony. At the cathedral where I preach / attend, they ask during the prayers for those celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and anniversaries of sobriety to come up for a blessing!
I feel exactly the same way about belonging to my fellowship of people who have tried to end their lives and failed. We survived and discovered joy yet remain heartbroken for those who didn't.
yes.
Wow, how could you be the thing in one of these things is not like the others. I thought that was my title. In elementary school, Red Rover was terrifying to me. If I couldn't be on the end so that my poor skinny polio arm wouldn't be crashed by some gigantic boy, I had to stand with the teacher who always wanted me to join in. Did she not understand that Red Rover would send someone over who'd break my arm right off? I will never love that game. But I can laugh about it now and by gosh I love your writing, your self. Linda Clare at The Deep End
Thank you for this Nadia. Grieving shows up in many ways in waves. Inadequacy, guilt, anger and often times “you don’t know these things so I cannot admit I’m not finished with them yet”. Small talk is the worst! So shock them with a deeper meaningful question. Inquire. Learn. You don’t have to talk be there to listen to whoever it’s only temporary. The foods just as good and just maybe you made a difference. I learned this and also that it’s not always about me.
The trick is finding that deep connection with someone - for you, the body art tells a story that others can read. It is an "easy" way to spot a fellow traveler for others our age who lived a similar experience. For me, the father of an adult child on the autism spectrum, similar connection is possible but only with careful questions and revealing of my own vulnerabilities. Tough to do while balancing brisket on your lap and talking to strangers. Makes me wonder if we should wear buttons that say things like "ask me about [insert personal struggle]" or something just to provide a different ice breaker. Nobody wants to talk about weather or politics - could this be a new thing?