Angels, cakes and divine presence

Rev. Lynn Longfield, a friend I look up to, accepted to preach during the ordination service. When I was working at the Presbytery, Lynn was the Presbyter, in other words the Pastor of the Pastors.

Lynn preached on Elijah’s journey, supported by God’s angels through discouragement and despair (1 Kings 19). This is one of my favorite biblical tests. 

An angel supports Elijah with fresh water and cakes baked on hot stones. Eventually, God comes close to Elijah, as a “gentle whisper” or “a still small  voice” (depending on the translations) so they can talk.

The paradox, said Lynn, is that “when God speaks to us in the silence of our own hearts, in that still voice of mysterious wonder, there comes also a deeper revelation that we are not alone, and, in fact, never have been."

The important is to listen. Lynn mentioned that she was given a plaque that read “silence and listen have the same letters. Coincidence?”

God walks by our side in many ways, concluded Lynn. Sometimes, God sends us angels that provide us with hot cakes and fresh water. The community around us is also the witness of God’s love.

It was never truer as on my ordination day. 

Ordained !

Finally, a few years after starting to study theology (this was in…. 1996 at the Institut Protestant de Theologie, in Paris) the day of the ordination arrived.

Of course,  since then I had moved in a new country, switched languages, went from French Reformed Church to PC(USA), went through the Dubuque (Iowa) seminary. I also married, moved on the West Coast of the USA and discovered the world and culture of Native Americans.

I had been “certified ready to be ordained” for the past three years, which means that I had also passed the ordination exams and did the internships in church and hospital, wrote my statement of faith – in other words, I was ready.

But I still had one condition to fill : I needed a call. When the Commission on Ministry accepted to consider my work as “Director of Spiritual Formation” as a validated ministry, the path to ordination was eventually opened.

So I defended my statement of faith in front of the Presbytery. I was apprehensive but it went very well, in a friendly atmosphere.

On November 30^th, I was surrounded by my family and my friends when I became a “Minister of word and sacrament” also called “Teaching Elder”, as pastors were called in the 16^th century, an expression recently brought back to life in our denomination.

My brother Frederic came all the way from France and read a psalm in French during the service, along with Zohndra, one of the endearing teenagers of the church. 

My uncle Jean-Loup, his wife Diane and my cousins from Seattle were also there. Danielle’s little boys (3 and 6 year old) under their father Imad’s supervision, were really good! I entrusted Shawn with my camera and she was diligent, taking many pictures that remain great memories of an event that will remain an important step of my life.

The ordination takes place when the Moderator of the Presbytery, that would be Rev. Julie Johnson here, lays her hand on the head of the ordinand, at the conclusion of a prayer. Julie invited those already ordained (pastors and Elders) to come, join the prayer and also lay their hands on me, or the person next to them if they are out of reach. She also invited everyone involved in my journey to join the group. Almost the whole assembly gathered around us.

An image and emotion I will not forget. 

The Frog Had the Answer

The answer finally came last Wednesday, on Leap Year Day. I was not on leaping mood that day - I had spent most of it getting more pessimistic by the hour.

Then the long expected email arrived at 5:34 PM and its title was an answer in itself “Acceptance to our Residency position…”

Before I fully realized it, an appeasing wave of relief was sweeping over me.

The residency will start next September and will last one year, which will allow me to achieve the chaplain training I still need. I will work mostly at the Hospice house but will have one night on call at the hospital every week. And I found out later that night that my Korean friend was also accepted!

It was snowing that night. As I spent some time in the dark yard with the puppies, enjoying the crisp air, I felt like screaming actor Jean Dujardin’s exact words when he received his Oscar last Sunday “Putain c’est génial thank you merci!!!”

Leaping day indeed!

Interview at the Hospice House

Today, I met with Rev. Susan, the chaplain coordinator of the Hospice House in Tacoma. Two of the chaplain residents – out of three- will be working there. Susan is a petite woman with short white hair, brilliant blue eyes and a warm smile ; I immediately felt comfortable with her.

We talked for a long time – she had some specific questions for me, my interest in this type of chaplaincy, the grief and mourning I experienced in my life, the way I connect with people that have different views and religious traditions but mostly she listened to me.

As I mentioned before, an interview with a chaplain is different: imagine a conversation with an amazing and compassionate listener. I had a great time with Susan who also showed me the facility. She will not make the final decision but her input will certainly be significant.

As I was driving home under the sun, in this bright cold afternoon, I was trying to anticipate what decision would come my way. This morning Susan had met with another applicant that I know well, a wonderful talented Korean woman, certainly worthy of this resident spot. Her knowledge of the Korean language and culture is a great asset in our area. So many good applicants, so few places…

I noticed in the sky a dozens of tiny parachutes – military training above McChord Air Force base. This could be a living metaphor of my situation. Now that I am certified “ready to be ordained”, I am the parachutist wondering where I will land, wondering where God’s wind will direct me… (To be followed… )

The "Textured Tapestry of Existence"

I will meet with Susan, the chaplain coordinator of the Hospice House on February 27^th and the finale decision for the residency will take place later that week.

If it works, the residency will start in September and will last one year. I remain serene but my thoughts have been gravitating a lot  toward this possibility…  

What kind of help and care is a chaplain able to bring to a hospice patient? Judith Leipzig wrote a beautiful article on her experience in a hospice service at the Calvary Hospital in the Bronx. It can be found at this link.

http://blog.onbeing.org/post/11176428414/hope-at-the-end-of-life                   

I translated parts of it in my French blog – I found out Judith’s rich writing was much more difficult to translate than I had thought!  

Judith Leipzig shares what she learned as a hospice chaplain and her discovery of what she can bring to patients at the very end of life: not a service, but a presence and a profound listening that provides the patient with a sense of meaning and a renewed and deep connection to what Judith calls the “textured tapestry of existence”.

Residency – a new twist

After the interviews in January at St Joseph hospital in Tacoma, the answer is still to come. I have some hope to be accepted as a resident for a yearlong internship (the residency) starting in September although the spots are very limited. I should hear back some time in February. Of course, I remain totally zen and serene while being deeply aware of the passing days.

This morning, I got some news. I received an email from the supervisor, wondering if I would be interested in the Hospice House Residency, an “intense but dynamite learning environment with a lot of death, as well as healing and grace”. If so, I could meet with the chaplain coordinator.

It took me some time to reflect on this – at least 30 seconds. My heartbeat quickened. Yes, I am very interested. The two crucial moments of our lives are “now and at the hour of death” as we read in the “Hail Mary” prayer I learned as a Catholic child. I hope to get an interview with the chaplain coordinator in the coming days. To be followed…

Temporary Shepherds

I went from ice storm to spring sunshine as I flew to Atlanta, Georgia where I took the interim pastor training. In our denomination, those interim pastors fill the gap between two installed pastors, allowing a congregation to heal after a conflict, or go through a mourning process when a long-time beloved pastor leaves or retires. The next installed pastor then will start his or her work on healed ground.

The Calvin Center, where the training took place is located at 25 miles from Atlanta, under the trees and next to a small lake. The food was scrumptious, with gourmet entrées at every meals – prepared by a Chef, a talented man from New Zealand who used to work in a local restaurant. Brian was his name and he received praises daily from the 36 trainees.

We had rain on the first day (they said I had brought Seattle weather!) then sunshine came back. Walking around the lake was wonderful between two workshops.

The Atlanta Airport is also a scenic place and a place to stretch your legs after a 5 hours flight. A little train is available to go from and to the gate but I preferred walking. This allowed me to admire an exhibition of sculptures from Zimbabwe artists.

There was a 3-hours difference between Atlanta and Seattle. No big deal for this traveler used to deal with 9 hours jet lag. Yet the next day, a Saturday, I woke with the typical exhaustion: everything, including walking around, was exhausting. My arms felt too heavy for my shoulders. I was supposed to get ready for preaching on Sunday…. Fortunately, I had written most of the sermon during the flight back the day before. Smart move…

Three Chaplains, One Coyote

An interview with a chaplain is an odd place. Of course, it looks like a job interview – after all, this is about being hired for a paid internship, the very desirable residency starting in September I applied for. But the conversation also comes close to the dialogue one would have with a therapist. The chaplain tries to find out what self-knowledge you have and if you are willing to explore and discern more. When you get into a patient’s room, you should be aware of your own baggage and deep motivation.

On Monday afternoon, I had long conversations with three chaplains of Saint Joseph hospital. Three consecutive interviews later, I was feeling good as I was walking back to my car on the hilltop of Tacoma – almost euphoric. It went well, in a warm, relax atmosphere, I felt appreciated… I was experiencing a prudent sense of optimism. Then I found out that there were only 3 or 4 spots and that St Jo’s students from previous internships would be picked first.

In other words, this is not a done deal. But let’s not get discouraged. Early on the next morning, as I was going to work, a coyote crossed right in front of the car. I did not have time to take a picture but that was a young beautiful animal, with a fluffy tail, just like the picture below. It turned around several times before vanishing in the wood – puzzled maybe (“what, a human around here?”) Irvin smiled when I told him about it. He was taught to respect coyotes. “It’s a good omen” he said. We will see… I will know about the internship sometime in February.

2012 – Resolution Day!

My first resolution, in this brand new 2012 year, is to… reconnect with my blog. I was thinking I posted my last message a couple of weeks ago. What, it was three months ago??? Where did Fall 2011 go?

In any case, 2012 is indeed here, and here I am, facing the immense perplexity of a future that can take so many different shapes. On November 2, the committee in preparation for ministry certified me “ready to receive a call”. That means that I went through all the steps to be a pastor, from the theological degree (both from the Institut Protestant de Theologie of Paris, France and Dubuque seminary – an eclectic pairing) to the internships in a church,  (Puyallup First Pres last year) then in a hospital chaplaincy this summer. There was also the psychological evaluation – where I found out I was an extravert – me, an emblematic introvert! And of course I had to pass those ordination exams.

So I am “certified ready”. But the ordination can only take place when I receive a call, either from a church or from a hospital if I become a chaplain. I feel pulled in both directions, which is eventually a good thing: opportunities in the Tacoma area are not that many, so I should get ready for both.

On the pastor side, I will go through the interim pastor training, a weeklong education. In the Presbyterian denomination, an interim pastor always steps in between pastors. The churches in our area have all ministers right now, but they will need an interim pastor one day or another.

And on the chaplain side, I applied for a residency (a yearlong paid internship) that would allow me to complete my training. This residency would start next September. An interview is scheduled in a week.

So here it is. I can’t help wondering if the doors in both directions might actually close before me, while our church situation stays precarious, and our denomination tears itself apart. More than ever, this is the time to keep in mind that we are in God’s hand. God will make the calls and lead in new directions…

To be followed… Meanwile, Happy New Year!

Not two Codes Blue are alike

Greg, my CPE supervisor, was right. The on-call nights were never as dramatic and stressful than that very first night. One night, I was called to support the family whose aunt was slowly passing.

«Her window on the world is getting smaller…» commented the nurse when I asked him his prognosis in a whisper. Still, she survived through the night while a code blue was happening in the cancer unit – I ran over there. This patient could not be revived.

As I joined the group of nurses and technicians gathered by the patient’s room as they always do in those moments of crisis, they looked at me suspiciously. My badge only mentioned I was a volunteer and they were wondering what was bringing me up here – some sort of morbid voyeurism? “«I am a chaplain intern – on call tonight » I explained and immediately their attitudes changed. “Oh good! Her husband is on his way… He does not know yet his wife passed away. Would you welcome him ?»

Later that same night, a 91 year old woman expired by her daughter and son-in-law. The nurses had called me as her death was becoming imminent. As we were waiting for the people from the University of Washington (the patient had donated her body to science) the daughter told me about her mother, who had come to live with her in Tacoma a few months earlier. “I know she was 91 but still, she is leaving too early, she said. I threw a “welcome to the Northwest Party” for her when she moved in with us. She was still doing fine last week… This summer, I wanted to take her to the Pacific coast for a day trip. She was such a good Mom..." She left two hours later with her husband. I told her as I hugged her “I did not get to meet your mom but I won’t forget her”.
All those on-call referrals were not always that dramatic. One night, I was called by a patient who was unconscious in the critical care unit. His daughter was here, a small jar of oil in her hand. “I would like you to baptize my dad” she said. “I am a Catholic. My Dad does not belong to any church. I don’t want him to die without baptism. I am afraid he would get lost… I know for a fact he believes in God.”

However, when her mom and sister joined us in the room, they disagreed. They did not want him to be baptized while in a coma. “He must choose for himself, we should not impose that on him when he is not aware of what is going on” said the mom. Her daughter accepted their decision. I prayed with them then left.

The next day, I went back to the room of the patient. I was hoping to see again the daughter and be able to explore with her the fear she expressed that her father would be lost without baptism. She was not there but I had the good surprise to see the patient, awake and sitting in his chair, talking with the nurses.

The last code blue of my internship took place during the day. A patient passed out during his dialysis and was able to be revived fast. His daughter, overwhelmed with relief and retrospective fear went out in the hallway and started crying. I had just arrived. I introduced myself and asked permission to hug her. She was a foot taller than me and she sobbed in my arms for several minutes before she was able to talk again.

“ You are a chaplain?”
“I am. A chaplain intern.”
“You are the prettiest chaplain I have ever seen.”

I guess not two Cold Blue are alike…

Code Blue

20 minutes after I wrote the previous message, the pager (clipped on my T-shirt) made a screeching sound. I pressed the button with a shaky hand and the words “code Blue, room 616” appeared. Code blue: a heart stopped. Nurses and doctors trying to revive a patient. Looming death. I was supposed to call back the number on the pager, but no number showed , just the room number. What should I do? Reluctantly (it was almost midnight) I called Greg, my supervisor. He always said we could call him at any time. Indeed, Greg answered – though I could tell I woke him up. “Call the nurse supervisor” he said. At this station, a nurse that knows everything that happens in this huge hospital. “Yes, come in, she said. I am calling the family right now.”  

I jumped in my car. I prayed as I could, broken words through the many fears I was experiencing. Above all, I was afraid of not being able to face whatever was over there. When I arrived at the room of the patient, I found out that he had been revived and he was being transferred in critical care unit. His family was on their way. I look at the nurses and doctors busy around the unconscious young man. I was impressed. One of the nurses approached me. «There is another one» she said, pointing to another room. “He just died. The family is coming».

A few minutes later, the mother of the patient and his girlfriend arrived in tears. The nurses introduced them into his room and I followed them, hoping to be useful, maybe pray with them. “Get out please!” the girlfriend shouted. I left the room, realizing my mistake. This moment was theirs. I should have not been there without being invited. A few minutes later, a nurse went in and told them about the circumstances of the death. He died peacefully – they were supposed to make a decision the next day about taking him off life support. “They would like a prayer now” the nurse told me.

I came in – the patient’s room was large, filled with silent machines. I noticed in a corner colored balloons with “Happy Father’s Day” written on them. I sat down by the mother who was crying silently. I suddenly started crying too – I did not see that coming. I needed several minutes before being able to speak. Then I started praying. I talked about the presence of God standing by people in sorrow. I talked about Patrick in the light of the Kingdom. I prayed for the comfort of those left behind, who loved him. I say that their memories, the shared experiences with Patrick would remain theirs forever – nobody would take them away. I quoted King David, after the death of his son, who said “he will not come back to us – we will go to him”. Finally, I stopped talking. The mother told me kindly “that was beautiful”. We stayed silent for a while. I was looking for a way to invite her to tell me about her son but I did not find the words. Why did not I say simply “tell me about him”? Eventually, I left to check on the other patient and promised I would be back.

The mother had arrived by Larry bedside, the first patient. His heart was getting weaker. I just had time to introduce myself when another code blue took place. More nurses and medical technicians arrived. This time, the patient could not be brought back. Larry’s mother was in tears. The doctor hugged her. I stayed with her in the room after everybody left. I hold her hand and we prayed together. Then she asked to stay alone with him for a while.

I spent some time waiting in the hallway. This was a welcomed pause. I was still shaking. I went back and visited with the other family, who had some questions about the upcoming formalities. I gave them information and the phone number of the nurse supervisor – she would need to know the name of the funeral home that would be coming. The two women were getting ready to leave. Patrick’s mother hugged me. I watched them walk away – the girlfriend had taken the «Happy Father’s Day» balloons with her…

Another code blue took place at 6 :00 AM – a woman who was revived. I came and prayed with her daughters.

«The on-call nights are not always that busy» said Greg, my supervisor later that morning. Greg assured me I probably would not have another night of that intensity during the rest of this CPE.

But next Wednesday, that will be my turn again to have the pager back, a long unpredictable night ahead of me.

It is right here

It is right here - the pager that will ring up if there is need for a chaplain tonight. It is in front of me, still and silent for now like a big sleeping beetle. But this fragile condition can be broken at any time.

For the first time tonight, and until 8 AM tomorrow morning, I am on call. If there is need for a chaplain tonight at Good Sam hospital, I will be the one being called. As I promised I could be at the hospital in 30 minutes, I don’t need to sleep over there. I am at home, and the pager follows me everywhere I go.

This internship is fascinating. Not only do we learn to listen and walk with patients and their families, in the midst of their pain, questions and emotions. But we are also led to observe our own way to provide this support. So many things to discover about ourselves through this time: what moves me to help others? How can I provide this help without projecting my own fears and beliefs? The most enlightening exercise is the verbatim. As we recollect the words shared during an interaction with a patient, we write down the emotions and thoughts we experienced. We share the verbatim with the others interns and our supervisor and we comment it together. Why were you uncomfortable at this point of the conversation? What would you do differently? We are scrutinized like never before – without feeling under attack. We are all in the same boat, trying to become better chaplains.

All this is still very new and while I am looking at the silent pager and the night outside, I can’t help hoping… stay calm tonight, Puyallup, stay calm.

CPE : becoming «Zen» and a chaplain in training.

Instead of pushing that pain away, just let it be. You are not the pain. That pain is something that doesn’t have to be who you are. Just let your breath take that pain away from you. Beautiful

An American Buddhist monk is speaking to Audrey, who has multiple diseases of the spinal cord and is in constant pain. If I was Audrey, I am not sure how I would feel about someone teaching me to «let the pain be». Unless I acknowledged a special authority from this man in his black kimono who belongs to Zen Buddhism and allow him to teach my mind some discipline?

This episode of Religions& Ethics Newsweekly titled “Zen hospital chaplains”[1]
caught my eye probably because I am finally filling the forms for CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) in other words the internship in a hospital as a chaplain. This should take place next winter or spring depending on availability. It lasts three months if you do it full time.

Those forms ask you a little bit more than your address and your email address. They require you write down “a reasonably full account of your life” where you should include the important persons and events especially as they have impacted or continue to impact your personal growth and development.

And also «a description of your spiritual growth and development» describing your faith heritage and any subsequent personal conversion and religious experience.

And a description of your work history with a statement about your current employment and work relationships.

And also the account of a «helping incident» in which you were the person who provided the help. You should include your assessment of the issues at hand, and a commentary on what you did and how you believe you were able to help.

So I am in the process of composing a “reasonably full” account of my life on those various aspects – with a “Zen” and focused mind of course. This is so me.


[1] http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/november-12-2010/zen-hospital-chaplains/7471/

Ordination Exams : You Will Go Out in Joy

You will go out in joy

and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills

will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field

will clap their hands.

When I was a student at the faculté de Théologie of Paris, we were given those verses (Isaiah 55:12) to translate from Hebrew at our term exams. I remember the growing doubt I had felt as I was working on it. I had not recognized the verses so I was perplex. Hills bursting into songs? Trees clapping their hands? Was I in the middle of a complete misinterpretation, so easy to get lost into in the Hebrew language?

I was reminded of those verses this week – oddly enough, the music of the «Sound of Music» was playing in the background. Isaiah must have inspired those lyrics: "The hills are alive with the sound of music / With songs they have sung for a thousand years…”

Why this overflowing euphoria that made me want to leap and twirl around in meadows like Julie Andrews? You guessed it: that was the relief to have passed my ordination exams. The long expected phone call finally came this week.

The process is not over yet though. I still have to experience Clinical Pastoral Education (internship in a hospital) and finally the ultimate trial: polish my own statement of faith and defend it at the Presbytery. In other words: more exciting upcoming events! To be followed…
The hills fill my heart with the sound of music

My heart wants to sing every song it hears…