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.

These are the questions I ask every day, on my way, on my way, on my way...*

I was walking home today, in a rush to get there and finish packing before driving up to Maine, and walked past two people sitting on a bench.

"Excuse me?" said the female, "Could you answer a question for us?"

"Sure" I shrugged.

"What do you think your purpose in life is?"

"Um, I, uh..."

"We're not going to record your answer or anything. We're just having a discussion and wanted to get more input."

"Well..." I began, "I guess I'm not sure where to go with that... do you mean career-wise, or personally, or...?"

"How about answering this question instead," said the male. "Which is more rewarding: interpersonal connections or self-satisfaction?"

I thought for a moment before I responded, "I don't believe one can have self-satisfaction without interpersonal connections."

They seemed satisfied with my answer and I continued on my way.



What about you? Would you have stopped to answer questions from strangers? What would your answers have been?



...*

Little Blond Munchkin Love of My Life

Today is my last regular babysitting day with my little man, Clyde. Those of you who know me know that Thursdays have been the highlight of my week for the past year because of him. In honor of our final day together, I made him a book (he loves books). It won't look nearly so nice or well-organized on blogger, but I'm sharing it here anyway.

Thursdays with Clyde and Phoebe

Every Thursday for a year,

Clyde's friend Phoebe would appear,

Ready for a day of fun,

In the rain or in the sun.

In the park were many things -

Clyde's favorites were the swings.

"Little push, little push, big push!" he'd cry,

And after the pushes he'd go "So high!"

Slides to slide down and tires to climb,

There was never enough time,

To do all the things Clyde loved so much,

Like sniffing roses, puddle jumping and such.

Clyde was fond of things with wheels -

Fire trucks had the most appeal

So they'd walk (they'd never drive),

To see Tower 1 and Engine 5.

Lights went on and sirens wailed,

While trusty Sparky's watch prevailed.

Those trucks were big - they were not tiny,

And their wheels were always shiny.

Then Phoebe would say, "Hold my hand!"

And Clyde would reach up just as planned,

And they'd head home to eat their lunch,

Getting messy as they'd munch.

After nap it was time to venture,

Back outside for more adventure,

Looking at flowers all around town,

And stepping "Up!" and stepping "Down!"

On their walks they loved to play

With their shadows on sunny days.

When shade came, shadows would hide,

And Clyde would say, "Where's Phoebe and Clyde?"

Often they would walk some more,

To the library or bookstore.

They would sit and read together,

In sunny or in rainy weather.

At the library, Clyde liked best

The "Oops! Book" and "Froggy Gets Dressed".

But at the bookstore he'd request

"Yummy Yucky" and "No no Yes yes".

Then at the end of each Thursday,

After lots of fun and play,

Phoebe had to say "goodbye"

And head back to her home nearby.

So Clyde would from the window stand,

As Phoebe smiled and waved her hand,

And Clyde waved back each afternoon,

Knowing they'd play again very soon.

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:

Alaska: The State I Love to Eat

So my friend Kate received a gift certificate at Christmas from the family she babysits for and we decided we should have a date night. That was nearly 6 months ago, and last night we finally made use of it.

We hadn't made reservations and the restaurant was surprisingly crowded for a Tuesday night, so we sat at the bar. The bartender Walter was quite nice and gladly poured our celebratory flutes of Prosecco. We toasted to finishing the year, ordered dinner, and caught up on each other's lives.

It's hard to do justice to the experience we had with the man sitting next to us and his daughter, but I'll try:

Man: What is your name?
Me: Phoebe
Man: That is a beautiful name! What a beautiful name! Beautiful.
Me: Thank you
Man (to Kate): And what is your name?
Kate: Kate
Man: Kate!? Don't you feel simple next to Phoebe?

(I can only assume he meant doesn't the name Kate feel simple next to the name Phoebe, but we'll never know.)

He asked if we were celebrating something, and we shared that we had just finished grad school. When he found out we were social workers, he spent the next 10 minutes telling us why social work was such a great field and why the work we do is so important even if we don't get paid much.

Later, after the man had shared part of their second bottle of wine with us, and after repeatedly calling Kate "Nancy" throughout the night, he and his daughter left. The daughter came back because they had forgotten something and as she left said, "Just think - he's increasing your number of future clients every day!"

Our evening ended with Baked Alaska. Neither Kate nor I had experienced this dessert before, and all we could say was WOW. Coconut ice cream and passion fruit caramel. We rolled ourselves out of there full, happy, and feeling like we had properly celebrated the culmination of the past two years of our lives.