Prayer for Fibby

It's been a tough month at work - a tough few months, really. Lots of complicated social situations. Lots of sad stories. Lots of heavy loads to help people carry...

There's an ongoing situation right now that eats away at me. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. It makes me frustrated. I'm mostly able to leave it behind when the work day is over, but sometimes it takes the whole walk home to fully shake it. And of course, it's always waiting for me when I return to work in the morning.

I knew that I'd have a day that centered mostly around this situation when I headed to work yesterday morning. I had checked email throughout the weekend and was aware that there had been some issues that would need to be addressed when I returned. I got to work, took a deep breath and plunged right in.

The "water" was deep, and the situation upsetting. I met with one person, I met with another, I organized a meeting of the care team, and then I documented in multiple places the plan to move forward. I stayed an hour late to finish all of this and was exhausted by the time I began my walk home.

It was a full-body exhaustion: physical, mental, and emotional. As I turned down my street, I was mentally preparing to leave the day behind when I walked through my front door. I spent the last few blocks taking some deep breaths in an attempt to let go of the day, but it was still hanging on.

Two blocks from home, I looked up and saw a few adults in their early 20s walking towards me.

"Excuse me," one girl said, "Do you have a second?"

"I might," I responded cautiously.

"It's not for anything weird... I mean... Well, we're with the ______ Church and I'm wondering if there's anyone you'd like us to pray for - maybe for you or for someone you know who is having a hard time?" She and her friend both smiled and looked at me kindly. "My name is Meredith," she said.

I'm of the belief that given the line of work I'm in and the challenges I so often witness there, I'm in no position to turn down prayer. Whether it be to a Christian, Jewish, or Muslim God, whether the god be male or female or gender neutral, if someone offers to pray for me or the families I work with, I won't say no.

So I thought for a moment, wanting so much to request a prayer for this family that is causing me so much heartache but not wanting to violate any HIPAA regulations. "Could you pray for the families at my hospital?" I asked. I told her where I worked and the population I serve, and tears came to her eyes.

She asked if she could put her hand on my arm, and when I said yes she began to pray.

I don't remember all the words of her prayer, but I do remember how kind and earnest she was. It wasn't a cookie-cutter prayer. She said "um" and "uh" as she strung together her thoughts into words. But her simple, honest prayer carried a surprising depth and weight. She praised her God for wisdom and love, and acknowledged that God's heart can break just as ours can. She asked for strength and peace for the families in the hospital. And she asked for strength and peace for me.

She finished her prayer and I thanked her. We chatted for a bit and then parted ways.

I walked home feeling lighter, less anxious, and relieved. Relieved in the realization that I am not carrying these burdens alone. Relieved at the idea that there might be some larger power that will help me through these difficult days - if not by solving the complex social problems I witness at work, at least by sending people like Meredith to pray for me when I need it most.

The Gift of Life

As I type this, there is a 5-year-old girl I know who is receiving the ultimate gift - the gift of a heart and of a new life. And as her family rejoiced at the news that a donor had  been found, another family grieved for the loss of their loved one. 

Please keep both families in your thoughts today. 

For more information on organ donation, please visit http://www.donatelife.net/.

A Summer Story

When I was eleven, I went to summer camp for the second summer. There was a girl there named Amy who was a few years older and had a kind of junior counselor role at camp. She had a beautiful smile and the kind of personality that lit up a room. She was incredibly talented musically and would often sing or play piano with a small group of younger girls all gathered around, singing with her.

On one such day we all gathered around her at the piano to sing. We happily belted out song after song until it was time to leave. As we all headed to lunch, Amy pulled  me aside. I was nervous about being singled out and was concerned I had done something wrong.  

"I just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful voice," she said to me, "so keep singing." I remember just staring up at her, my idol, the young woman I wanted so much to be like someday, and being completely at a loss for words. I had always liked to sing - it had always been a part of my life - but this person was telling me that I was good at it and was encouraging me to make sure to nurture that talent. 

A feeling washed over me - a feeling I had never felt before. I was so honored and proud to hear those words of encouragement from her, and yet also somewhat overwhelmed. At a time when I was starting to feel the awkward insecurities of my pre-teen years, those words meant so much to me, and I found myself getting choked up from the emotion of it all.

I walked back towards my friends with tears streaming down my cheeks. They saw my tears and asked with concern why I was crying, and I shrugged because I didn't know. They asked if I was sad, and I found myself laughing through my tears and telling them that I was pretty sure I was crying because I was happy. 

I never saw Amy again after that summer. And I never became a professional singer. But I did carry with me the memory of how significant it was to be reminded of talents and strengths that I didn't even know existed.

This morning I received an email appreciating me for my honesty and caring and willingness to speak and act openly when many others do not. These are traits that are so a part of me that, like singing, I forget sometimes that they are strengths. The email spoke of the beauty that comes from making oneself vulnerable and the rewards that can come from being open to possibility, and as I read it I found myself full of that same mysterious feeling I felt 19 summers ago, with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart. Full of gratitude for all that is good in this world, and for the people who help me remember to appreciate it all, I share this with you now:

When the World Gives You Snow, Give the World Cookies

First, let me say this: I AM DONE. DONEDONEDONEDONEDONE. No more classes for a month. It still has not set in that I won't be in class every night of the week, but I already feel the weight of the 6,000 papers that have been handed in is off my shoulders, and I'm looking forward to a day in the not-so-distant future when the fog of exhaustion has also lifted. Soon.

Second, I will say that as exciting as it is to be done, it is also a bit anticlimactic, since our final two classes were cancelled last night because of the snowstorm that swept through. Now I'm all for snow days (especially since I haven't had one in over 10 years), but to have one on the last night of class with a professor I really like and who I may not have again next semester was kind of a let-down. (Nerd alert: I'm also bummed to have not gotten my final papers back from her, because I would have been able to know my grades)

That said, I managed to have a most excellent adventure last night with three other friends from school. We went out for a celebratory dinner, and then headed back to a friend's house who lived nearby. From her apartment, we could look down on the street below where the cars were not moving. At all. For 30 minutes we looked down at the chaos below, and cars didn't move.

And so we four social workers started feeling bad for the people stuck in their cars, and decided that we would make cookies for them. So off we trekked to the supermarket a few blocks away (stopping to help push a minivan into the parking lot on our way) to buy a few tubs of ready-made Tollhouse cookie mix and some candy canes, then back to the apartment to make the cookies, and then out to the street to spread our cookie-love.

It was fun. There were many drivers that ignored us, or rolled down their windows, heard that we were offering free cookies, and then shook their heads and rolled them back up. But there were even more drivers who got big smiles on their faces and thanked us. One man said he'd been in his car for 3 hours, and he had only come from 2 miles away. Another woman said she'd been in her car for 9 hours trying to get home. These people were exhausted and though we couldn't get them home any more quickly, we could at least give them a moment of happiness with a chocolate chip cookie or two.

It's the little things.

So LB is done, and I'm wildly jealous. I'm sitting here in the library, typing away at a paper that just doesn't seem to be finding its way toward an ending anytime soon. And I had 2 classes back-to-back tonight, and I'm generally tired and kind of hungry and mostly I want to go home and go to bed.

And then a girl from my class comes into the computer lab and says hi. And then she says, "You know, Phoebe, I just want to tell you that you're really supportive."

And I'm not sure where this is coming from, so I sort of look surprised.

And she says, "No - I'm giving you a compliment" and she goes on to tell me that she appreciates how I stand up for myself and others in class, and how some people do it in a negative way, but I remain positive. And she tells me that as I handed a paper in to her last night, I thanked her, and how that made her feel appreciated.

And I was reminded yet again that it's the little things that often make a difference - the things we don't even know we've said or done.

And I went back to my paper (after typing this here blog) with renewed energy and a smile on my face, because sometimes - not often - but sometimes, you can find yourself the recipient of kindness and appreciation when you least expect it (and when you most need it).

Wish Granting

It's not every day that such a simple act can help someone's wish come true. Take a few seconds and a stamp to help to make this little boy's wish come true (no, I don't know him - just think it's something worth passing along).