Happy Easter!

I don't have an oven; more specifically, I have the broiling element but not the baking element.  We've been waiting on the replacement part for about 2 1/2 weeks.  It'll be here the day after Easter.

And we're hosting Easter.  Without baked ham or roasted vegetables or dinner rolls or cake.

I'm tempted to do Chinese take out.

But I've passed it on to Mama to do and I think she's making smothered pork chops.  Ma, Gong, and Goo will be here on Sunday for the egg hunt and baskets.

We were going into the city tomorrow to see some Italian art, the Cole show, and the French Gardens show, but I think we need a break before our big outing next week.  So we'll hang out at home.  Sis has horses; Bud has kung fu.  And then Easter . . . .

If you are celebrating this weekend, be it Passover or Easter, I hope it's lovely and happy.

Outdoor Fun

You might not know it from my more sedate, indoor pursuits like crocheting, but I really like outdoor cooking.  I think it stems from my happy Girl Scout camp memories.  Nothing like s'mores, banana boats, and "hobo stew."  Yesterday, Sis and I spent some time in the woods of central CT cooking outside with other scouts.  With snow on the ground!  Certainly, I never did that as a kid in Texas.

But with two fires set up for various types of cooking, we weren't ever really cold (though we had on our snow boots and gloves.)  The girls made grilled cheeses in pie irons, biscuits in a reflector oven, sloppy joes in a Dutch oven, and spiced apples in foil packets.  Sis loved those pie iron sandwiches--just butter and white bread and American cheese!  I remember that my great-grandmother had a cast iron press that was used indoors--I even inherited it--and she made great toasted sandwiches.  Sky's the limit with those--pizza crust and meatballs, pie crust and pie filling, or pie crust and marshmallows and chocolate, white bread with cream cheese and strawberries, and on and on.  Sis has now put pie iron on her list of things to get and wants to cook outdoors with them this summer.  At least it's easier than Dutch oven to carry and clean!

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Grilled Cheeses in a Pie Iron
Spray pie irons with nonstick spray.  Spread butter liberally on two slices of bread, one side only.  Place in pie iron and add cheese.  Close.  Insert pie iron into the coals, checking your sandwich regularly.  Yum!

Sloppy Joes
Put Dutch oven on rack over coals or in coals, depending on heat of your fire.  Spray with nonstick spray.  Saute onions and peppers.  Add ground beef to brown.  Season with Worchestershire, onion powder, ketchup, and a tiny bit of vinegar.  Add diced tomatoes.  Simmer until done.   Serve with reflector-oven biscuits (just put those store-bought biscuits in that oven and cook til done.)

Spiced Apples
Slice apples and place on a sheet of heavy duty aluminum foil.  Add cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and a dollop of butter.  Wrap up foil into packet and place in coals until bubbly.

Our Palm Sunday

Yesterday, for Palm Sunday, our RE class attended service at an AME (African Methodist Episcopal) church nearby (AME is a predominantly African-American Protestant church; it broke off from traditional Methodism because of racism and discrimination.)  And the kids didn't know what to do with themselves!

I had attended an AME service during college, as part of a religion-in-America class and so I knew it would be a long service, with a fluidity between song and sermon and lots of tangible worship.  By this I mean obvious physical and verbal means of praise--clapping, standing, dancing, raising hands in the air, calling out "amen" and the like.  This is the part the kids were unsure of.  As UUs, we don't tend to praise or worship anything--as there are as many concepts (or not) of the divine as there are congregants--much less make noise or move during service, unless it's a particularly rousing hymn (and then, really, it's only some of our more extroverted members.)  So to praise God, call out worship of Jesus, raise hands, stand up when moved was new.  Such organized UU kids--they were disturbed that they couldn't even figure out where we were in the order of service because of the fluidity between music and sermon.  They seemed uncomfortable with the emotional and passionate style, quite opposed to our UU intellectual and reflective services.  But I liked it.  Whether you call it holy or divine, or not, there was clearly a spirit in that church.  A community coming together in joy.  For some parts of it, I could just allow myself to be moved by that spirit, instead of analyzing what was happening.

But of course I did observe and analyze.  I had told the kiddos that people would be dressed up more than at our church (and so I wouldn't let them wear t-shirts) and, though there were some who were not, there were a few rows of older church ladies in hats with fans; most of the men were in suits.  I noticed the various oratorical methods (and here) used to engage the congregation--pauses, repetition, call and response, experiential preaching.  There was even that noticeable expulsion of breath after some words and phrases--the appending of "ah" such as "Jesus-ah"--when the preacher became really impassioned.  I pointed out to Sis and Bud next to me that this was the black preaching style that Martin Luther King, Jr came out of and then influenced.  I could also see the clear connections between the Gospel music and more secular pop, particularly when one of the deacons sang "Way Maker," interspersed with his own words and stories.  I think that song went on for 15+ minutes and couldn't even just be called a song--it was more of an interactive experience.  (Same with "It Could've Been Me.")  It reminded me of line singing, with the next verse called out, a tradition leftover from a time of greater illiteracy and a lack of hymnals (though, actual line singing is a more sorrowful tradition from white Appalachian churches.) There was also a guest musician, Alaina Rose, who is launching and sang a beautiful song and had the church's full support.

As for the message, the service, "ministry of words" I think it was called in the bulletin, it was nothing like the slow, word-for-word exegesis of the Presbyterians we visited. (The only part that felt like other Christian services was the recitation of the Apostle's Creed.)  There was a guest "shepherd of the house," Rev. Figueroa, who apologized for not focusing on the Word, so caught up in the Spirit was he.  He said sometimes you need to praise with your feet--and he began to dance.  The scripture of the day was Mathew 21:2, when Jesus told two disciples to go fetch a donkey that was tied up and bring him forth to be used; and if anyone were to ask them what they were doing, they were doing His work.  Now, I would never have thought you could do a whole sermon on the phrase about "untie and let loose" but he did.  The "tied up" part was the issues and difficulties all people have (he mentioned poverty, illness, drugs, the ghetto, he said, drawing from the song, "It's not just that it could've been me.  It should've been me.")   He preached that it's these issues that make you worthy to be chosen to do God's work.  And so he encouraged the tied-up congregation to let loose.  And oh what praise there was.  In fact, he kept saying the crowd had him worked up and he wasn't going to end on time for the next service (which he barely did!)

So much was unfamiliar to our kids, beginning with the palm fronds passed out.  They weren't even sure what Palm Sunday was, much less the tradition of the palms. I tried to whisper info to them throughout the whole service.  Another unfamiliar part to UUs was the altar call, when certain people feel the call to be saved and go to the front of the church.  One young man did this and was welcomed by several deacons.  UUs don't convert like that--they attend a newcomer's class and might sign the membership book during service. The offertory was at least recognizable by the kids--except that the whole congregation rises and circulates to deposit their envelopes in a basket up front.

When we spoke to the pastor afterwards, the kids had questions—typical UU questions about history.  How old was the building?  How old was that pipe organ?  They learned that this congregation was founded by ex-slaves in 1818; it's the second-oldest AME church in the world.  Booker T Washington once spoke from pulpit.  The current location is not far from a spot believed to be a lookout for the Underground Railroad.    I asked the pastor what he would have the kids take away about his faith and his church.  He said that even with a rich history, we must always look ahead. 

My kids were exhausted by the whole experience and didn't have much to say about it on the way home.  Which was the exact opposite of me--I had been touched by the worship and wanted to discuss the whole thing.  This isn't to say I want to convert to AME--beyond not being a Christian, I clearly noticed the absence of the hallmarks of progressive churches, like rainbow flags and calls to social justice around issues like immigration and gun control.  I'm pretty certain they don't support same-sex marriage.  But I liked the music and the joy.  It was a beautiful morning and I appreciated the experience of their community spirit, which, for just awhile, I was a part of.

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About appending "-ah" at ends of phrases (from straightdope.com):
It's caused by failure to breathe properly while orating. Preachers who end up sounding that way usually start out ordinary enough, but as their adrenaline begins to flow and they talk faster and longer and louder, their diaphragms start squeezing hard to empty their old breath so they will breathe new air. What you hear is this expulsion of breath through the preacher's vocal chords.

It's been a phenomenon for a long time. C. H. Spurgeon wrote for the July, 1875 Sword and Trowel, "Hints on the Voice For Young Preachers" (http://www.spurgeon.org/s_and_t/voice.htm):

It is an infliction, not to be endured twice, to hear a brother, who mistakes perspiration for inspiration, tear along like a wild horse with a hornet in its ear till he has no more wind, and must needs pause to pump his lungs full again; a repetition of this indecency several times in a sermon is not uncommon, but is most painful. Pause soon enough to prevent that "hough, hough," which rather creates pity for the breathless orator than sympathy with the subject in hand. Your audience ought not to know that you breathe at all—the process of respiration should be as unobserved as the circulation of the blood. It is indecent to let the mere animal function of breathing cause any hiatus in your discourse.

Another Bust, Maybe

We've been hearing for 48 hours about this big snow--15" of heavy, wet snow.  School was dismissed early today to get everyone home safely; I worked double hours yesterday so I could stay home today.  My parents checked in.

Nothing.

It's damp.  We've seen flurries.  They've dropped the totals to 2".  And I think that is on the high side. 

Bud even said yesterday that he was done with snow days.  "I've done everything I'm going to do on a snow day, Mom."  I hear you, Bud.

So we watched Iron Man as we try to blow through all the MCU movies before Infinity War in April.  I did some reading for CPE in Armstrong's Case for God.  Mama worked from home.  Later, Sis went to help exercise the horses and Bud went to kung fu.

I still get excited about snow and am disappointed this was a bust.  Even if we get 6" overnight, I didn't get to watch it today.  Oh, well.  Spring in New England.

A Day Away

I attended a daylong mindfulness retreat on Friday at my favorite mindfulness center.  I am always renewed when I go there.  The peaceful and rejuvenating atmosphere, the inspiring workshops, the wholesome meals, the lovely concerts, the restorative yoga and meditation classes, the beautiful woods hiding the stone labyrinth, even the little gift shop with unique books and items—everything leads me to contemplation and reflection.   I have attended two Zentangle weekends, a mindful knitting retreat, and now this day of immersion in mindfulness and meditation, which I attended with my good friend, Mommy Goose.

I think the day was just what I needed.  I’ve had a meditation practice for about 8 years now, starting with the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) meditations I learned during my first and most severe back issues in 2010 (when I couldn’t sit—or function for long periods of time--for almost 2 years because of chronic pain from spinal issues and a tailbone dysfunction.)  I still find the MBSR approach to chronic pain one of the most potent tools I have when my back and tailbone issues flare.  From there, I studied Buddhism and found that it really resonated with me—the focus on presence and compassion, the approach to suffering and the alleviation of suffering.  I integrated a regular breathing practice and later a metta or lovingkindness practice.

But with the recent challenges of CPE, when I probably need meditation the most, my practice has been slipping.  I have not volunteered for so many hours in a week since the children were born; it’s essentially an unpaid part-time job.  Nor have I been engaged in coursework (with papers and readings etc) like CPE since I finished my classes for my Ph.D. almost 20 years ago.  And I can see the obvious effect on our home life—laundry goes undone, as does the grocery shopping.  We’re eating more take-out.  And I’m struggling with issues of guilt—I’ve been late to take kids to activities, I’ve been gone on snow days, I had to rely on friends to pick up a child who missed the bus, which I know are issues that working parents regularly deal with, but it is new to us.  While Mama and the kids are handling it all in stride and aren’t disappointed or critical, I am struggling at times.

As for the workshop, which I think both Mommy Goose and I really needed, I sat, watching my monkey mind, observing my breath, and could feel the anxiety pass away.  I did a body scan and felt tight muscles relax.  I practiced an alternate nasal breathing technique and felt my mind clear.  I did a mindful eating exercise and paid attention to a meal for the first time in weeks.   I was familiar with all of these exercises but hadn’t practiced in awhile, despite it being one of my learning goals.  I had been sitting daily at hospice, breathing in the pain and grief of the patients, breathing out love and peace (the practice of tonglen), but I needed something different.

My favorite part was a mindful listening exercise with a focus on empathy.   First, we sat with a partner and alternately shared a story while the other person listened deeply—no interruptions or advice, not even therapeutic nods or “uh huhs.”  At the end we simply said, “I will remember this for you.”  To be heard is such a deep gift.  Then we stood, with one person’s eyes closed while the other looked into her face (we were all women) and gently touched her arm or shoulder while the teacher read, slowly, something like this:  "This person, like me, has been happy and sad.  This person, like me, has had hope and despair.  (It went on like this for a bit) May this person, like me, be happy, healthy, safe, and free from suffering."  To be seen by another and to see another, to acknowledge our shared humanity reminded me of why I was drawn to hospice work in the first place and why the first UU principle (about worth and dignity, a la the UU Golden Rule) is my guiding light.

CPE Reflections

I don't even know where to start to tell you about CPE, here about one-third of the way through the unit.  Here are some of my reflections:

On being a part-time (unpaid) working mom:

• On my first day, I was an hour late getting home because of traffic and Sis was late to horses.
• On my second day, Sis missed the bus and thankfully a friend could pick her up.
• On my third day, it was a school snow day but not that terrible so I went to work and the kids stayed home.
• One time, a kiddo misunderstood that I'd be home extra late and was upset and scared.
• Many times, I have just not had the ingredients or wherewithal to cook; we're eating a lot of take-out and odd dinners.
• Same with laundry not getting done regularly and kids wearing not-quite-clean uniforms to activities (so now they are doing their own laundry!)
• and we are weeks behind on regular medical check ups (and will be weeks more.)
• I have to hibernate away from everyone so I can write, attend online classes, and read.
• Even when it's not actual work, I'm distracted and feel like I'm out of time and missing something.

On my CPE professional, personal, and spiritual goals (which we had to write up in the beginning):

• I will seek out my place in spiritual care as a humanist Unitarian Universalist chaplain, because I sometimes feel a lack of worth and authority as a chaplain—“impostor syndrome” perhaps—which hampers my ministry.  I think this is the result of at least two issues: 1).  I am at the beginning of my journey in pastoral education and still very much learning in all areas, and 2).  I am not a Christian but currently often only see Christian chaplains as work at hospice—while they are good role models in so many ways, we have theological approaches.  Many of Connecticut Hospice’s volunteers are Roman Catholic deacons, brothers, and priests and so the focus is often on communion, mass, and the Sacrament of the Sick, for our Catholic patients (I’d say 75% of our patients are Catholic).  I believe I have something to offer all of our patients, but I struggle sometimes with overcoming my doubts;
• I will become more familiar with the stories of the Bible so as to communicate more effectively and authentically with my Christian patients (I was raised in a decidedly non-Christian, atheist family and I continue to make great and conscious efforts to overcome the lacuna in my Biblical literacy) and to understand the spiritual metaphors of the stories to inspire my own spirit;
• I will continue to expand my multicultural/multi-faith competency so I can connect more authentically with people of different faiths;
• I will work on my communication skills, particularly my initial visits with family and patients in order to overcome awkwardness and promote greater connection.  I do a lot of “cold” visits and know that the first few minutes, my first few sentences, are crucial to establishing connection;
• I will improve my use of open-ended questions to facilitate discussion;
• I will learn NDoc, the platform used at Connecticut Hospice for tracking patients; 
• I will learn the processes for IDT for Connecticut Hospice homecare patients;
• I will continue to master the reporting practices for Spiritual Care visits.
• I will reignite my meditation practice;
• I will continue to study spiritual resources of prophetic men and women from many faith traditions for my own spiritual growth;
• I will investigate and adapt traditional religious language—notions of grace, faith, blessings, God, etc.—as relates to my liberal progressive beliefs and use this language to facilitate interfaith dialogue.  (For example, I have learned to think of my metta—lovingkindness—meditations as prayer and to describe them as such to others; similarly, I do not use the term “God” to express my understanding of the universe but recognize that my beliefs in love, the spirit of life, and community are encompassed by the word God for many people.)

On patients and visitors I remember:

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• the young man with the brain tumor whose extended family and friends circled around him daily to provide comfort and support.  The hardest part?  Seeing his toddler running around the lobby and talking to his parents about watching their beloved son slowly die.
• the African-American Baha'i gentleman who believed in a loving God but wasn't sure religion had made the world a better place, seeing how so many Christians and others preached such hatred, especially now and who said that we couldn't have talked like we did when he was younger because the white supremacists would have killed him for being alone with a white woman.
• the happy Finnish woman with the beautiful crocheted blanket her mother made 90 years ago, who liked to talk of her home and the summer place by the sea and had seen her parents visiting her.
• the very angry woman who blamed hospice because her husband was deteriorating and she didn't have much time left with him and who then got another woman in the room upset that her brother was dying, too.  That woman, the sister, did find some comfort that day in my singing to her brother.  
• the woman who wanted came at me in the hallway sobbing, begging me to pray aloud for her mother in accordance with her own conservative Protestant Christian views--so that I convince her sister and her dying mother that they were wrong to be Catholics!
• the family that demonstrated so much equanimity in the face of the medical malpractice that had led to their mother's dying in hospice.
• the woman who didn't understand what her dying father was waiting for (because he would have hated being like that and they had all said goodbye but would stay with him until the end--was he waiting for his birthday? the Patriots to win the Superbowl again?) until she opened the window and he breathed the fresh air and died.
• the woman who was an artist who painted lovely portraits and landscapes and hated that people would patronize her because she couldn't talk above a whisper because of her cancer, who felt comfort in knowing that her siblings had been through the same thing before her.
• the woman whose friends held happy gatherings everyday, raucous and joyful--and teased me that as volunteer chaplain I must be too pure for them.
• the woman who was telling funny stories when I showed up--and someone asked if I had "the weed?", leading to a conversation about spiritual care, family and friends, and recreational drug use.
• the woman who kept crying out in pain for help and for a daughter who was not there with whom I sat until the third dose of something finally relieved her.  
• the Catholic patient who died right on his arrival at hospice whose family was still arriving--and how devastated and guilt-ridden they felt that he hadn't received the sacrament of the sick, whom I led in prayers at the bedside because I was the only Spiritual Care volunteer there.
• the woman, who was a "fan" of Mary and Catholic television but belonged to no particular faith community (though she had been Lutheran, Presbyterian, and "Epistopalian") who begged for reassuring verses on heaven and all the prayers, blessings, and rituals of any religion in her panic about her mother's active dying.
• the Ukrainian Jewish siblings who were transferring their 90+ year old dying father back home so their mother, who couldn't travel, could be with him at the end, and who were sad that he had received such indifferent care at the nursing home when there was such loving care at hospice (what was America coming to?)
• the woman deep in the grip of dementia who would become so anxious and agitated when I came to her bedside that I quit visiting so she wouldn't become upset.
• the young gay man with HIV/AIDS who was not quarantined or discriminated against the way he would have been thirty years ago--and all the loving friends and family who surrounded him and how we talked about Pride parades and Macy's.
• the older gay man whose partner was always there, who loved dogs; it was heartbreaking to hear how he had said goodbye to his own dogs before entering hospice.
• the woman who was a writer/illustrator and had left such a creative legacy for all of her children.
• the woman whose bedside table was decorated with photos of many years of annual family reunions (all over North America) and all the happy memories her children shared with me about her.
• the older Catholic gentleman who came to Mass every week but didn't talk much to anyone when we'd visit his bedside; he had a kind face.
• the former UN employee who wandered the halls during PT and would talk to me about books he loved to read and asked what the nautical flags on our pole meant (they are non-sensical.)
• the former hospice volunteer who had many employees at hospice visit and invited me to sit down when I said I was a UU.
• the visiting family member with the beautiful voice who sang along with the pianist and me to a version of "Water is Wide" with words referencing the mass shooting; we all hugged at the end.
• the patient and his wife who regularly sailed out of the harbor seen through our window who told us that the island with the green buoy was Mermaid Island.
• the gentleman who was actively dying and whom I was praying for with a volunteer when the grumpy nurse snapped at us for trying to wake him up (which was not what was happening; same grumpy nurse has snapped at me for visiting a woman with dementia, thinking it encouraged her hallucinations.  I avoid whatever room she's assigned to now.)
• the daughter who came into the Commons room while I was playing Greensleves who thought it was a sign from her mom who had just died minutes before because it was her favorite song.

Other Observations about clinical hours at hospice:

• As a volunteer, it took awhile for me to be recognized as a member of the team by the full-time employees; they are very used to me now and know to come find me.
• There is too much paperwork and no one seems to understand the whole charting system, which is both done by hand and by computer but we're not sure how they integrate the two.
• I am more nervous visiting a patient who has visitors than one who has not; I feel like I'm interrupting their visit.
• I never wake a patient.  Like sleeping dogs and babies.
• Patients who are still awake and alert often suffer from loneliness and welcome company and my visits.
• The view is most comforting to the visiting family; I'm not sure how well our elderly patients lying in the (very fancy and expensive beds) can see the Sound.
• The staff, volunteers, and families were intrigued to watch the Bald Eagle eat his lunch on the ice floe this winter.  There apparently have been a few meaningful bird sightings, like the hawk that watched a memorial service for an employee and flew away when it was over; other hawks have sat outside windows until a patient's death and then flown off.
• Everyone loves the therapy dogs--staff need them as much as patients, I think!
• Psalm 23, the Lord's Prayer, and/or "Amazing Grace" seem to transcend any particular faith and are comforting to so many.
• I like our terrible old out of tune piano in the Common Room.  I try to play Greensleeves there but can't avoid the worst notes.  Still, I like to play.  I also like to sing at Mass or the Interfaith service, even though Christian hymns aren't my favorite (especially because they don't use the UU changed lyrics!)  Two that stick with me are "How Great Thou Art" and "In the Garden."  
• I've made a few small afghans for hospice and have been touched to recognize them on the beds of patients.  Gotta buy more yarn!
• I don't wear scarves to work because they dangle and could cause infection to spread.  I also always wear short sleeves because it is so warm in the building (due to all the windows and the need to keep patients warm); I usually have a very light sweater, which I take off if I have to gown up for infection protections, which is doubly warm.
• Nurses order a lot of take-out for and any snack brought disappears super quickly.  Even faster than with teachers.
• I really like the people in the art therapy department--mainly music and art people, which really isn't a surprise.  In fact, when they hold events, it's a lot like a museum education program with different crafts!  And the musical ones are so gifted.

CPE Observations:

• Thank goodness for this blog and my reflective writing habit of the last ten years.  Everything I write for CPE is similarly reflective, not like academic writing at all.
• So far, the verbatims and class sessions have been less daunting than I expected from the memories of friends who have done them elsewhere before.   I just shared my first case study verbatim this week and have only received a few "giftings" (critical/analytical comments.)  But oh, one of them was very touching and encouraging.  Still, I've been anxious waiting for their responses.  And I have to present to the group this week in our class, which is doubly nerve-wracking.
• And while the online modules were very informative, the final test was ridiculous--it didn't really evaluate what was learned but focused on minute details (what hospital did the author of that one article work at?) and word-for-word definitions and comprehensive lists (I think the module instructors must have a chip on their shoulder in the heavily evidence-based medical field in which many of them work and are trying to make it more scientific.)  Blah.
• The book we have to read, by Anton Boisen, reminds me of Spring Awakening, with the struggle of repressed sexual desires causing an emotional/spiritual crisis for the author.  I've about 1/3 of the way done with it.  Boisen is often seen as the founder of the discipline of hospital/healthcare chaplaincy.
• Other things I'm consulting:  Karen Armstong's books Great Transformation: The Beginning of Our Religious Traditions, The Bible: A Biography, The Case for God, The History of God; Scotty McLennan's Christ for Unitarian Universalists; John Buehrens's Understanding the Bible: An Introduction for Skeptics, Seekers, and Religious Liberals; Neville Kirkwood's Pastoral Care in Hospitals; Interfaith Ministry Handbook; The Work of the Chaplain; What do I Say? Talking with Patients About Spirituality; Arthur Becker's The Compassionate Visitor; Professional Spiritual and Pastoral Care: A Practical Clergy and Chaplain's Handbook.  And, yes, The New Oxford Annotated Bible.

Hopefully that gives you a sense of what I've been doing for six weeks or so.