Blessed With Needs

Glimmers
December 4, 2009

“You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Rev. 3:17 NIV)

My Pastor, who I assert is wise well beyond his 35 years of age, is currently preaching a sermon series called “Blessed.” One of the points he made in his last sermon was that we have been blessed with needs. Blessed with needs? The very thought flies into the face of reason. Wouldn’t we be better blessed to be free of needs? Wouldn’t it be great to have no worries? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be self-sufficient and need nothing from anyone and to have no one else who needed anything from us? HALLELUJAH! Actually, no it wouldn’t.

If you have seen the movie Castaway starring Tom Hanks, you will remember that he was the only survivor of a plane crash that left him alone on a small, remote island. He had learned how to fish, to provide his own shelter, and he learned how to make a fire to keep himself warm. He even learned how to be his own dentist! But he couldn’t learn how to live alone. His need for an “other” caused him to personify a volleyball and name it Wilson. Ultimately, his need for real companionship drove him to leave the island.

Needs, and our relentless pursuit to meet those gnawing, aching, longings are cleverly disguised blessings. They make us truly human. They drive us to one another, to giving and receiving, to blessing others and being blessed by them. They drive us to acts of compassion for others in need and inspire thanksgiving and gratitude for our own needs that have been met by the actions of others.

Strange as it may seem, having no needs is the greatest poverty of all.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Thanksgiving Edition

Glimmers
November 20, 2009

"I thank my God every time I remember you..." (Phil. 1:3, NASV)

Last night my wife asked me to get the little pilgrim salt and pepper shakers, napkin holder and spoon rest from the top shelf of the cabinet above the oven. They are from the collection Publix supermarket used to sell, now discontinued, I'm sad to say. Thanksgiving preparations have begun in earnest at the Smith house.

That got me thinking about being thankful. As I began thinking this through on my morning walk, I thought about the farmer who got up at 4 a.m. to milk the cows that produced the milk I put in my morning coffee. Our society is so removed from the production of the things we use everyday, I’ll bet there are people who don’t even know milk comes from cows. Some people are so confused about it they think the chicken in those Chick-fil-A commercials comes from those Holsteins carrying the sign, “Eat mor chikn.” But chicken doesn’t come from cows, beef does. And besides, those are DAIRY cows. Hello!

This ignorance about where things come from is boldly displayed at the fast food restaurants that proclaim their burgers are from “100% Angus beef.”Angus cows are just beef cows with black hair. I suspect the beef from red Santa Gertrudis or gray Brahman or white Charolais cows is just as good, they just need better marketing. But I digress. The point is how many things have you used today that someone else worked very hard to produce? How many others gave their time and expertise in the doing of their jobs so that you could do yours? At the risk of missing some of the hundreds of people involved, allow me to illustrate. I’ll begin with arriving at work this morning, just to keep it simple.

I parked my car and before I could lock the doors, a volunteer driving the shuttle arrived and asked if I needed a ride. I noticed the grounds were neatly trimmed, thanks guys! The South entrance door opened automatically, thank you Business Office for paying FPL. Thank you to HIS for coding the procedures so the Business Office could bill for them to receive payment so we could pay FPL. I saw clean floors because environmental services had worked hard overnight to scrub, polish and vacuum them. I unlocked the door to my office and turned on my computer. Thank you Information Systems! I took the daily census and referrals off the printer to start planning my day. Admitting, nursing, and clinical informatics all had a hand in that. So many people to thank already and I had barely begun the day!

Now think about your job. Who ordered the gloves, prepared the meds, cooked the food, restocked linens, mopped the floors, drew the labs, took the Xrays, did the surgery, filed the reports, input the data, delivered the meals, transported the patient from the OR, and…well I think you get the picture. We all have hundreds of others to thank for their contributions to our being able to do our jobs.

Between now and Thanksgiving Day, how about telling some of them thanks for doing what they do so you have the opportunity to do what you do. And remember, as my minister likes to say, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jerald

Seeing the invisible

Glimmers
October 22, 2009



“It was by faith that Moses left the land of Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger. He kept right on going because he kept his eyes on the one who is invisible.” Hebrews 11:27 (NLT)

It is funny how one thought leads to another, then another and another. Sometimes I try to stop where I am in the thinking process and retrace the mental steps that led me to the current thought. The caboose on today’s thought train was the George Strait song “I Saw God Today.”

Just walked down the street to the coffee shop
Had to take a break
I’d been by her side for eighteen hours straight

Saw a flower growin’ in the middle of the sidewalk
Pushin’ up through the concrete
Like it was planted right there for me to see

The flashin’ lights, the honkin’ horns
All seemed to fade away

In the shadow of that hospital at 5:08
I saw God today (Rodney Clawson; Monty Criswell; Wade Kirby)

I got to George Strait’s song from a prior thought I read in Philip Yancey's book, Prayer. Yancey said as he looks for God in the everydayness of life, “aha” moments “catch me by surprise: a surge of gratitude, a pang of compassion. But they catch me, I have learned, only when I am looking for them,” (Prayer, p. 183).

I have come to believe we can indeed see the One “who is invisible.” I know it is subjective and not objective and that my “seeing” is an act of faith, an interpretation of what I see. In this hospital, I get glimpses of God from time to time.Yesterday I saw God in the face mother’s grief, a young woman’s heart for soldiers far from home, a co-worker’s courage in the face of illness, a volunteer’s determination to be God’s loving presence for a difficult patient and a housekeeper who is as gracious as her name.

What do you see?

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Holding on-letting go

Glimmers
October 9, 2009

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” Romans 12:9

The car was packed with all my earthly possessions and I was anxious to get on the road to my new life in Tampa, FL. I had spent the summer after college graduation in Atlanta working as a desk clerk for the Holiday Inn on I 20 East. A new job, new apartment, new city and new life were waiting and I could wait no longer. My Mother came out of the house carrying a box. “Here, this belonged to your Daddy.” My Dad had died ten years earlier when I was twelve. Inside the box was a gray Bradford cowboy hat. I took it with me to Tampa and to everywhere else I have lived ever since. I could not think of parting with it, even though I never wear it. Well, I did wear it once, but only for a sermon illustration. I look rather goofy in a cowboy hat. It is one of the few possessions I have that belonged to him and it helps me feel connected to him in a tangible kind of way. I can take it out of the box, look at it, touch it and it helps me to remember.

I also remember a Thanksgiving years ago, how many I am not sure, when my Mom placed the turkey on the table, picked up her J. C. Penney electric knife and said, “How ‘bout you carve the turkey.” To me, it was a passage, an invitation to adulthood. After her death in 2001, it was the only thing that belonged to her that I really wanted. I still have it. It still works perfectly and through it, she is present with us at every Thanksgiving and Christmas.

As with most people, I don’t like all the things my parents gave me. All the memories are not good. My parents were imperfect. I give them credit. They did the best they could. But some of their ways were not emotionally healthy and I struggle to relate to those I love in better ways than those I learned growing up. Struggle is the right word because it is just that. Choosing differently takes some work.

Believe it or not, the holidays are just around the corner. Memories will fill the air along with the aromas of the holiday feast and the carols. Some of your memories may be painful. Some things you may not wish to carry forward with you as you go. Some things you couldn’t possibly part with. We get to choose what we want to keep and what we want to let go. Let go of the hurts and disappointments. Like my parents, your loved ones were human too. Forgive them if you need to. Forgive yourself if you need to. But hold on to the good stuff.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

The Night People

Reply |Smith, Jerald
show details 12:35 PM (6 hours ago)


Glimmers
September 24, 2009
11:01 p.m.


Night people are different. I don’t know if they are different inherently, or psychologically, or if it is the night schedule that makes them seem one-off. They live in an out of synch world. Most people, including those in their own families, are Day People. Normal People. Some Night People work days too and only have to work nights every once in a while. Some of them work nights all the time because they have to for reasons of job availability, or because of sharing child rearing duties with their spouse. Some do it because they want to. For the life of me, I can’t understand the latter group. It’s only 11:00 p.m. and I feel like a zombie.

I grab the bag full of candy bars, gum, M&Ms and lifesavers and become a one-man rounding team. Rounding is a fun way to interact with hospital staff, give them a treat and leave them with a smile. The night people are surprised to see me. “What are you doing here this late?” or some variation thereof. “I came to hang out with my night peeps,” I say. They laugh because it sounds so un-cool when I say it. But they laugh. Laughter seems to come easily to the Night People. There is a sort of camaraderie among them. Kind of like that of frat boys who survived the hazing or soldiers who went through boot camp together. “We’re strong, we’re invincible. We’re the Night People.” “I’m here for the third shift dinner at 2,” I say. “Don’t forget.” The thought of hot food, freshly prepared, brings a smile.

The hospital is a different place at night. Some strange sort of alchemy transforms the daytime hustle and bustle, generalized and sometimes frenetic, to islands of busyness surrounded by an ocean of calm. Our four-story atrium, Grand Central during the day, is an empty cavern. Someone is in radiology. They have to be. But they are out of public view at the moment. There are no patients being transported from hospital rooms to procedures in nuke med, CAT scan or MRI. Most patients are sleeping or watching TV as I glance in the rooms . The pace of testing and procedures has slowed for now. Except for the Emergency Department. It keeps on humming and it keeps the machines humming too.

In a few hours the early morning labs will begin, heralding the coming dawn. Shifts will change and the Day People, in synch with their natural circadian rhythms, will take the helm once more.

So here’s to the Night People. Black out the windows. Pull up the covers. Get some sleep. We’re going to need you again in a few hours. And thanks.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

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