Pandemic Parables: For Such a Time as This

I am not sheltering at home. No. I am collecting stories. Incredible stories. Seriously. 

Until the end of August I am working as a Resident Chaplain at my local hospital (Frederick Health Hospital in Frederick, Maryland.) It is a program where you work, and also take classes. By the time I finish I will have five CPEs (Clinical Pastoral Education Credits - professional chaplaincy courses.) 

And unbelievable stories. 

In my wildest dreams I could never have imagined that I would be working full time in a hospital in the middle of a pandemic! 

The hospital is on high alert. Except for the main and Emergency Department entrance, all the outside doors are locked. Before anyone can get out of their cars they are being questioned about their health. They are then funneled past security at both the front entrance and the Emergency Department. Anyone who has  Covid-19 symptoms, or doesn’t have a valid reason to enter is turned away (testing for the virus is done in a drive through site across the road.) 

All elective surgeries have been cancelled. There is almost supernatural quiet in the corridors as only one visitor is allowed to visit a patient at a time, and most secretaries and office personnel are working from home. 

Volunteers can no longer enter. 

The numbers of patients have been dramatically reduced. 

Extra beds are being readied. 

It is as though the tide has gone out before the tsunami arrives. As the CEO said, they are preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. 

At times the tension is palpable. 

There is a serious shortage of hand sanitizer. Supplies of protective masks are dwindling. They are being rationed. The spare industrial sized rolls of toilet paper are under lock and key. But there is no shortage of dedication and selflessness among the doctors, nurses, cleaners, medical staff, security personnel, kitchen workers, and chaplains left behind. And the directors and department heads are doing a superb job of implementing changes and spreading calm. 

The chaplain’s  office rocks with fervent prayer, moving stories of patients’ lives, as well as laughter. Laughter is essential in hard times.  

God bless my fellow chaplains!

Most of all I am deeply thankful to be where I am for such a time as this. 

Thank you Lord!

St Patrick’s Day Amidst the Pandemic

It’s St Patrick’s Day. I have enough Irish in me to get an Irish passport - and I’m dismayed that so many celebrations throughout the world will be squelched because of the pandemic. What? No pubs open in Ireland itself on St. Paddy’s day? No parades in Irish strongholds in the US? Oh woe is us!

Which got me to thinking. Ireland and the Irish have had an abundance of incredibly hard times. Starvation, subjugation, and slavery (the latter on American soil) are among the perils they’ve endured. They have emerged with veins of gold running through their national character (the true gold at the end of a rainbow that emerged after terrible storms.) Among these veins are deep faith, soul-stirring words, music, dance, and irrepressible humor. After all, dangers aren’t so frightening if you can still find things to laugh about in the midst of them. 

So for St. Patrick’s day my prayer is that a rainbow will appear in each of our lives after this mighty virus storm is over. And that from these dark times gold will emerge, “treasures hidden in darkness” - as Isaiah says. That we will discover community, creativity, laughter, and love in new ways. And that we will be the stronger and better for it. 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day  to all my far flung Irish friends and family - and to all others who are wise enough to wish they had roots in the Emerald Isle. Much love to you, and may God bless and protect you all.

 wish they had roots in the Emerald Isle. Much love to you, and may God bless and protect you all.

Happy New Year, and New Decade!

This was written on New Years Eve 2019 - although it is being posted on the first day of 2020. 

The last day of the year, of the decade is here. A friend told me recently that our lives change incredibly every ten years. It has certainly been true in my life. The pivotal highlights of each of my last decades are arriving in a Northern England hospital; going off to my beloved English convent boarding school; moving to Texas to work for Lady Bird Johnson’s radio station; falling irrevocably in love with Jesus in a large London church, starting their Creative Ministries Department, then moving back to America to do my masters degree; my prison chaplain years; followed by a decade of Storytelling. They are the hooks on which the joys and sorrows of each ten years are hung.  

To finish out this decade and until August I’m working in my local hospital as a Resident Chaplain. Just today I’ve comforted a woman about to lose her second husband, laughed uproariously with septuagenarian identical twins who regaled me with tales of people confusing them over the years; and prayed, at different times, with a couple of people who were terrified by an upcoming medical procedure. All that, and much more, before lunch. Each day is dramatically different. You never know what it will bring - except for fascinating stories that I’m weaving into a new Storytelling show - “Chaplain Geraldine rides again!”

It is a good way to round out the last extraordinary decade!

Whatever your last decades have brought you, may this new one be full of hope, light, grace, and love. 

For all of us. 

May we all have the courage to overcome our fears, and become all we were created to be. May we become the fullness of our true selves - and accept and love who we are. Finally. 

May we live out the rest of our days fully alive. And may the love and grace that we discover within us spill out and one by one change our world. 

And how do we get from here to there?

Ah! I’m glad you asked. 

For it is now to the part of this day where I can’t help myself!  

Every New Year’s Eve I post the the same poem. No matter what is happening in my life, the country, and the

nations, I find it to be relevant, comforting, and inspiring. And so have many other people over the years. 

In the dark, uncertain days at the end of 1939 after Britain had declared war on Germany, King George V1 quoted the poem in his Christmas speech to the Empire. (It was taken from a longer work called "God Knows" penned by an academic turned missionary, Minnie Louise Haskins in 1908. More recently, the words were spoken at the Queen Mother's funeral in 2002.)

"And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:

"Give me a light, that I may tread safely into the unknown!"

And he replied:

"Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.

That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way"

In this coming year, and decade, through the loving power of the Ancient of Days, may hurting hearts be healed.  May long-awaited promises be fulfilled.  May hope push out despair.  May we dance often, and with passion. And may new doors of heart-soaring opportunity be flung open for all of us.  Amen!

Happy, healthy, prosperous New Year and New Decade to all my family and friends.

Rimutaka Prison, New Zealand, 2013

Six years ago today I went in to Rimutaka Prison near Wellington in New Zealand. I was on a four week tour starting in Invercargill on the South Island, where I performed in concerts and schools for ten days with fellow Storyteller Bill Harley. Then I set off to explore the magnificent country of “The Long White Cloud”. 

My time in Rimutaka, the largest men’s prison in New Zealand is a treasured experience. I didn’t write a blog post about it st the time, but I did write a Facebook entry.  I would like to share that with you today. 

May 22, 2013

Yesterday I went into Rimutaka men's prison with Hermione to do two storytelling/writing workshops.  They were both in the Drug Rehabilitation Unit - a therapeutic community where men stay six months - they were about to graduate from the intensive program (although a few of the next batch were already there,)  The first group were the "protection" prisoners (In the US - segregated) and the group after lunch were general population.

What an amazing experience.  The first group of men greeted us with a Maori welcome, ushering us into their home with prayers and songs, a song was sung by our group as a thanks. A beautiful, ritualized welcome - and then the workshop began.  The men told anecdotes, did writing exercises, - which they threw themselves into -and then told deeper stories that were delightful!  They really engaged with the process and the  therapeutic staff were deeply impressed  at the way the men responded.

The therapeutic staff gave us lunch behind the bars - oh my!  I had been expecting prison food and was flinching at the thought - but this was a magnificent feast cooked and brought in by those lovely staff!  Vegetable curry and rice, chick pea patties with a mint and chili dipping sauce that was only just this side of heaven, cream cheese and smoked salmon on baguettes, mouthwatering pineapple and lemon cake, traditional Kiwi cream buns......  Such delightful and delicious extravagance.  We were utterly spoiled!

Back into the main compound to do the second workshop.  Again we were greeted with the impressive, wonderful ritualized welcome. This group, was far more vocal, high energy and at times difficult to corral - but once they got into the process  they loved it and really connected.  The staff was amazed that in that constantly noisy place, silence descended for ten whole minutes while men did the writing exercise (New Zealand has one of the highest literacy rates in the world) - amazed is not the right word.  Blown away would be more correct!  And then the men shared stories that made us laugh and think - and understand...  Hermione was fabulous as always, handing out paper and showing off story starters as though these tough guys were her neighbors.  At the end of the workshop I thanked all the men - and I thought that was it.  But no!  They had a present for me.  Instead of only a ritualized spoken thanks - they performed a haka - an incredible honor.  To say I was moved was a total understatement - I was grateful, and profoundly touched and very humbled that they would extend that measure of respect. And it was magnificent!  My great thanks to Richard, Jacqui and Iona of Arts Access for arranging the visit.

Home to Judith and Tony's glorious pad overlooking the sound set for the movie "Lord of the Rings," and a dinner for all the local storytellers.

 

So we ended the evening with another feast, and shared stories around the fire.  

Bliss!  

A day that will live on in my mind for years

Workshop and Concert at the Secret Academy

I have had the most extraordinary day.

I was booked by a Storytelling Festival committee in Oak Ridge, Tennessee to pioneer a new program for their City’s school system. They have a special school within a school called the Secret Academy for children who are failing both educationally and at life, often because of very disruptive home situations. The young people frequently get into trouble because of adverse reactions to those pressures. These are the kids who never have recitals or concerts for their adults to attend because they never take part in those kind of programs.

The incredibly kind and caring Storytellers and Educators in the City decided to change that paradigm. They hired me hold a concert for 6th through 10th graders consisting of personal stories that the students had developed that day - quite a challenge!

Starting at 8.00am I taught a three hour workshop followed by brief lunch and an afternoon workshop. Then we gathered together for a quick dress rehearsal before the concert. 

I

t was a magic - if exhausting day!

The headmaster was amazed at what went on in the workshops leading up to the concert. The students, who usually have short attention spans were fully engaged in the story exercises and the preliminary sharing of stories. They then developed their main stories, told them to each other and then told them to the class. He let me know afterwards that some of the students that got up in front of their peers and shared personal stories never usually open their mouths in class. He was astounded to see how they participated. 

There were heart-rending stories, hilarious stories, and stories that made you wonder how these young people had survived. And those stories worked their magic. The bonding, support, and understanding that grew and then flowed in those workshops was palpable. 

The Storytelling Committee organized and sponsored a hearty pasta dinner before the evening concert. Not all the students could make it back to school in the evening, but the ones who did were excellent. We supplemented their tales with stories from a teacher and the headmaster. Both who did a  fabulous job. And I rounded out the day with some of my stories.

The Storytellers and Educators were all thrilled with the result. And I sloped off at the end of the event exhausted but exhilarated, once again amazed at the power of story to touch and transform lives.