That "Newbie" Feeling

Glimmers
September 10, 2009

In his book, "A Complaint-Free World", Will Bowen observes that there is a four-step process to learning any new skill. The first is unconscious incompetence, the second is conscious incompetence, the third is conscious competence and finally, unconscious competence.

It has been a long time since I felt really incompetent. What about you? I got reacquainted with the feeling in June. As I mentioned in the Glimmers dated May 27, I enrolled in an Aikido class. I had seen the Sensei, Allen Drysdale, demonstrate some self-defense techniques to a meeting I attended and it piqued my interest. Over a year later, I acted on it and signed up.

I arrived early for my first Saturday morning class, excited and a bit nervous. I had no idea what awaited me. Other class members arrived, began donning their outfits. Later I learned the outfit is called a “Gi.” Over their gi’s, they put on some black pant-like things with baggy legs that made them look almost like long skirts. I later learned these are called “ hakimas.” I heard lots of other foreign terms that day as the Sensei would name and then demonstrate holds and throws. I figured that sooner or later, by brain and my tongue would figure out how to say the words. What I didn’t figure on was that my body would be such a slow learner!

I learned early that first day that learning how to fall and roll would be very important. There are two different kinds of rolls. The back roll is done by tucking one leg behind the other, sitting on your butt on the same side as the tucked leg, and then rolling backwards over the opposite shoulder. I observed the more-experienced class members do it and then gave it a try. Somehow, what I saw with my eyes and communicated to my body to emulate got horribly scrambled in the process. It was totally embarrassing. OK, I thought, let’s try that other roll. The front shoulder roll is performed by placing one foot forward, bending over, curving your same side arm and shoulder back toward your feet so that your fingers are pointed toward your toes. Then you simply roll forward over the shoulder, the opposite hip, and return to a standing position. Simple, right? Again, my body betrayed me. I rolled sideways, like a log or barrel rolling down a hill. I tried it multiple times with the same result. No amount of instruction produced a proper result. It was ugly.

How, I thought, am I ever going to be able to do Aikido if I can’t do these basic moves, seemingly as simple as a child’s somersault! It did not help that there was this older guy there who appeared so normal, but when he began his Aikido moves he was so smooth, I promise, he floated on air.

In the following weeks, I thought about quitting several times. After my back seized up one week, I entertained the hope that I could blame my quitting on my aching back. “I’m not an awkward, uncoordinated quitter, I just have a bad back.” But it got better.

Sensei and more experienced classmates encouraged me. “The only way you won’t get better at Aikido is to die or stop coming,” he said. I could go along with the bad back idea, but dying? No. So I continued. Now, three months later,the rolls are coming along, the moves are becoming easier to do, and soon I’ll be ready to test for the next level.

Next time I have a new cashier at the grocery store and I start to roll my eyes because it is taking so long, I pray I have the good sense to remember how difficult learning new things can be. “New job?” “Hang in there.” “You’re doing fine.”

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Betty's Legacy

Last Tuesday I was supposed to present a talk on Family Systems to our Space Coast Grief Education Alliance. I am the current vice-president of this multi-disciplinary organization. Our mission is providing education and support to those who are grieving.

I was unable to present because of the death of Betty Wilder, my sister’s mother-in-law. I received the news Sunday morning, worked most of Monday and then drove up to Tallahassee for the viewing and service. Had I been able to present my talk, among the things I would have talked about is family legacies.

In Contextual Family Theory, legacies are like strings that connect across generations. The behaviors and beliefs of preceding generations tug on the generation connected at the other end. Legacies can be positive or negative. With my talk preparations in my head, I listened and looked for those connecting strings.

There was a string of faith. Faith in God was central to Betty’s life, as it had been in her parents’ lives. There was another string of family connectedness. Thanksgiving Day gatherings at her mother's, Granny Goins, home could easily bring upwards of 75 family members together for dinner. But the string (legacy) that I heard most about was love.

Her nephew by marriage, Rev. Scott Kilgore, gave the eulogy. He talked about what a good cook Betty was, and she really was a great cook. Once he asked her, “Aunt Betty, why does everything taste better at your house?” She paused for a moment and said, “Because I cook with love.” She wasn’t kidding. He went on to talk about the other ways Betty infused what she did with love. I watched the family as he talked. I saw lots of heads nodding and smiling. It rang true with me, too. I had known Betty Wilder since I was seventeen.

At the conclusion of his message, Rev. Kilgore challenged us. He said, “All of you are here because you have been touched by Betty’s love.” “I challenge you today to pass that on.” “Don’t keep that to yourself, take the love you received from Betty and pass it on.”

Love. It is a good legacy to pass along. Besides, I couldn’t cook like her, even if I tried.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Mortality Bites

How can two people who are in the same circumstances in the same hospital be in such very different places? She is sad, anxious, grieving the loss of independence and staring into her own mortality, frightened. He is calm, serene, at peace and says, “You just have got to expect it.” She has outlived two husbands. He has outlived one wife. Both are over eighty. Both are people of faith. So what’s the difference? He has had more time to process things.

His illness has been a gradual decline toward death lasting several years. Her illness has been more sudden. Up to now, she has enjoyed good health. Illness has been his companion for a while. She has a lot of catching up to do to be where he is. He has a head start. I don’t expect her to be at the same place. She’ll get there. I know it. And so does she.

Sometimes being a chaplain just isn’t much fun. It is hard to walk with others who are being pressed in by the narrowing of life, facing their own mortality, without facing my own. Though I am well past the middle point of my life, I still want to believe I’m never going to die. Or at least not think about it today.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Miracle Tuesday

Glimmers
August 21, 2009


As often happens, one scene evoked the memory of another. On Facebook this past Tuesday, I wrote the following; “I walked past room 307 and smiled. The man’s chances of ever leaving the hospital were slim. His son kept saying, ‘every day is a miracle.’ Today was no exception.”

The family in question hails from a Southern state and they are only here part of the year. While here, he had fallen gravely ill and recovery was very doubtful. When I first met them in the ICU, one of his sons and a brother-in-law were keeping vigil by his side. “It’s miracle Monday,” the son said with that Southern drawl. “The doctor said if he made it 24 hours, he might have a chance.” “We’re past that.” “Every day is a miracle.” The certainty of his faith lifted mine. It was not the first time that had happened.

As a chaplain resident at the University of Tennessee Medical Center in Knoxville, I was responsible for covering the Emergency Department when on-call. On one such night, the trauma pager went off and I reported to the ED to find out what was happening. I read the board and learned a man had been buried as a ditch had caved in and he was being flown in from Sevier County.

The flight team was administering chest compressions and bagging (breathing for) the patient as they wheeled him into the trauma room. He was not responding. They opened his chest, fluid gushed out and I watched as the physician wrapped his hand around the man’s heart and began squeezing it. To my amazement, it responded.

Shortly thereafter, I met some family and the man’s construction supervisor in a room next the to main ED waiting room. The physician who had accompanied me to report on the man’s progress said, “This is the chaplain.” “He’ll pray with you.” Before I could even take offense at his clumsy and simplistic description of my role, the construction supervisor took over. Covered with dirt from digging his friend and co-worker out of the ditch, his tall frame collapsed to the floor as he began to pray. It was simple, child-like and deeply moving. “I can’t add anything to that except Amen,” I said. A few days later, his once-dead friend was released from the hospital. It was the first time I had witnessed anything close to a miracle. The last one was miracle Tuesday.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Be Good To Yourself!

Reverend David Gant, my pastor’s grandfather, is in his mid 80’s. He is one of those persons about whom the more you know, the more you want to know. He has a beaming smile, a gentle disposition and is always ready with an encouraging word. What he hasn’t had is an easy life.

His wife, who died last year, spent the last few years of her life suffering from Alzheimer’s syndrome. Rev. Gant was faithful to the end. He would go to the nursing home to see her three times a day to feed her breakfast, lunch and dinner. I have a vivid memory of talking with Rev. Gant after morning worship about five years ago. “How are you?” I asked. “I’m great this morning,” he replied. “I went to see my wife this morning to feed her breakfast and she remembered who I was.”

This past Sunday, he greeted everyone coming in for worship and gave us that great smile, a handshake and a blue slip of paper. I have read it a dozen or more times since. I have no idea of the original source, so I can’t give due credit, but it is worth sharing.

BE GOOD TO YOURSELF

Be Yourself…Truthfully
Accept Yourself…Gratefully
Value Yourself…Joyfully
Forgive Yourself…Completely
Treat Yourself…Generously
Balance Yourself…Harmoniously
Bless Yourself…Abundantly
Trust Yourself…Confidently
Love Yourself…Wholeheartedly
Empower Yourself…Prayerfully
Give Yourself…Enthusiastically
Express Yourself…Radiantly

Our work in healthcare is always demanding and sometimes draining. Self-care is not an option. It is a requirement. Be good to yourself. You have my permission.

Blessings to you all,

Confession of a Worrier

Glimmers
July 31, 2009


“I will never fail you. I will never abandon you.”( Joshua 1:5, Hebrews 13:5)

I am a worrier. There, I said it. I have heard all the reasons why a person of faith shouldn’t worry. I even have a little poem I memorized from a sermon I preached twenty years ago about worry; “Worry never climbed a hill, worry never paid a bill, worry never led a horse to water, worry never did a thing you’d think it oughta.” And still I worry.

I used to worry if I’d get a job when I finished college. Then I worried about finding someone to share my life with me. I worried about our children (well, I still worry about them-the hazards of being a parent) and I have worried over my career. Now, I worry about retirement a lot. Will I be healthy enough to enjoy it? Will I have enough money?

I remember a corny joke, the kind that’s safe for preachers to tell from the pulpit, about worry. As the plane ascended the airline hostess noticed the man gripping the armrests of his seat so tightly that his knuckles were white. And so was his collar. “Reverend, why are you so afraid?” she asked. “ Doesn’t the Bible say ‘I am with you always?’” Tightening his grip, he looked up at her and said, “NO!” “It says ‘LO I am with you always!’”

In the last Glimmers, I talked about The Shack, written by Wm. Paul Young and how the statement “if anything matters, everything matters” had been such an encouragement to me. Another passage in the book caused me to smile and repent in quick succession. Jesus is talking to Mack and says, “Mack, do you realize that your imagination of the future, which is almost always dictated by fear of some kind, rarely, if ever, pictures me with you”(p. 144).

Ouch.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

It all matters

Glimmers
July 23, 2009


Vacations are prime reading times for me. I usually pick up a book or two and knock them out in pretty short order. I read “Stone Cold” by David Baldacci. It is a political thriller set in Washington and, as usual, Baldacci was highly entertaining. Then I did something I don’t recall doing with any other book. I read The Shack by Wm Paul Young for the third time. Once I have read a book, I rarely have the urge to read it again. But I like so many things about this book; how it depicts the relationality of God, how it handles questions of meaning like, “If God loves me so much, why is my life such a mess?” or “If God has any power at all, how could he have allowed this to happen?” or “Does anything I do really matter?”

When I was a local church pastor, I sometimes thought about how great it would be to be a carpenter, or brick mason, or a mechanic. So much of what I did produced no immediately obvious results. How nice it would be to able to see the walls I had built go up or hear the engine I had tuned purring perfectly. “Does what I do matter,” I wondered. I suspect you have wondered that too at times, maybe even today. But then someone would wait for me at the church door and say, “Thank you, Pastor.” “That was just what I needed.”

In The Shack, Mack, the lead character asks that same cosmic question. “Is what I do back home important?” “Does it matter?” I love the reply. “If anything matters, everything matters.” “Because you are important, everything you do is important.” “Every time you forgive, the universe changes; every time you reach out and touch a heart or a life, the world changes; with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again,”( p. 237).

It is the purest of logic. It is the simplest of statements. It is the deepest of truths. If anything matters, you matter.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald