Monday, October 25, 2010
Orders At Last
I finally received my official orders last Wednesday to Camp Lejeune with the 2nd Marine Division (I've had verbal orders for almost 2 months. Got to love Congress not passing budgets). That means that I'll be the chaplain for an infantry battalion for the next few years. I'm hoping that my arrival times out such that I'll get two deployments during my tour. What has been crazy is the short fuse from orders to reporting. I'm used to getting a few months between receiving orders and the report date, but after a few crazy days it has calmed down a bit and it will be nice to check in and start earning some pay for a change. I report on Friday, but the command has been gracious in allowing me to focus on getting the house in Durham packed and ready for sale as well as finding a place near Lejeune over the next few weeks so I can hit the ground running in mid-November. Luckily there are a number of houses for sale down that way that look promising and are empty meaning I can get a quick closing.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Missing Those Kids
I have been traveling a bit the last few weeks and haven't really thought of posting during that time. Taking in some Georgia Tech football and a Presbytery meeting along with getting the honor of re-enlisting my little brother a few weeks ago. That was a special moment that I will never forget. Each time I get asked to serve as the re-enlisting officer is an honor and privilege, but to do that for a family member is truly amazing.
But none of these excursions are the reason for this post. The trips were all scheduled with the impression that my official orders would be here by now, but budget issues still keep them held on a computer in Millington away from me. I had hoped the movers would have been here this week, but everything stays on hold while politicians get to take a vacation and tell me they are fighting for me. Oh well. Having to at least plan on the possibility that things would have been rolling by now, I had to quit volunteering at a special place right before I headed on three weeks of traveling around and hence the impetus for this post.
For the entire time I was in seminary I volunteered at the UNC Children's Hospital working in the playroom (with the exception of my time there as a pediatric chaplain intern for dual hat issues). I have to admit I probably learned more about theology and being a pastor in those two hours each Monday morning than during the rest of my time in class each week. I never thought I would enjoy the experience as much as I did. I started there to see if I could handle working with suffering children and their parents. I figured if I could handle those situations and seeing seriously ill children I could probably handle anything. And I did see some horrific physical and emotional situations, but after about a month it was less about me and those situations that just being with those kids. I have vivid memories of those kids, their families, my fellow volunteers, the therapists and nurses that I will never forget. It is my hope and prayer that I keep the lessons from all these people with me throughout my life and ministry and use them to guide my theology when I'm not with them each week.
I had the opportunity to look suffering and despair in the eye on a level that many people will never see. We tend to let people suffer in hospitals isolated and alone, especially those who don't have normal support systems in place. I learned just how important it is to just be there. Those kids didn't care who I was or what I looked like or what I did for a living. They just wanted someone there who wasn't going to talk about the illness or injury unless they wanted to. Maybe they needed someone to yell at or take out their frustrations with through Wii boxing. I learned to see beyond the illness and see the person, which was a lot easier than I expected.
They taught me how to suffer with dignity. They made me translate all the theological language I heard throughout the week into the vernacular. They shaped me as a pastor and person without knowing that is what they were doing. I learned how to be present in horrible circumstances. I learned how to listen. I learned how to share. I saw true wisdom first hand. I learned how to laugh. I learned how to play. I learned how to love. I learned how to smile from deep inside. I learned I dominate in air hockey (two losses in three years). I learned resiliency. I learned how to suffer. I learned how to cry. I learned to open my eyes and see the world around me. I learned what the world looks like from 2ft instead of 6ft. I learned how to use a Wii. I learned that nurses are amazing people that don't get enough recognition. I learned more than I can articulate and will continue to glean lessons from people much younger and wiser than I'll ever be. Perhaps most importantly, I learned who I was.
Man, I miss those kids.
But none of these excursions are the reason for this post. The trips were all scheduled with the impression that my official orders would be here by now, but budget issues still keep them held on a computer in Millington away from me. I had hoped the movers would have been here this week, but everything stays on hold while politicians get to take a vacation and tell me they are fighting for me. Oh well. Having to at least plan on the possibility that things would have been rolling by now, I had to quit volunteering at a special place right before I headed on three weeks of traveling around and hence the impetus for this post.
For the entire time I was in seminary I volunteered at the UNC Children's Hospital working in the playroom (with the exception of my time there as a pediatric chaplain intern for dual hat issues). I have to admit I probably learned more about theology and being a pastor in those two hours each Monday morning than during the rest of my time in class each week. I never thought I would enjoy the experience as much as I did. I started there to see if I could handle working with suffering children and their parents. I figured if I could handle those situations and seeing seriously ill children I could probably handle anything. And I did see some horrific physical and emotional situations, but after about a month it was less about me and those situations that just being with those kids. I have vivid memories of those kids, their families, my fellow volunteers, the therapists and nurses that I will never forget. It is my hope and prayer that I keep the lessons from all these people with me throughout my life and ministry and use them to guide my theology when I'm not with them each week.
I had the opportunity to look suffering and despair in the eye on a level that many people will never see. We tend to let people suffer in hospitals isolated and alone, especially those who don't have normal support systems in place. I learned just how important it is to just be there. Those kids didn't care who I was or what I looked like or what I did for a living. They just wanted someone there who wasn't going to talk about the illness or injury unless they wanted to. Maybe they needed someone to yell at or take out their frustrations with through Wii boxing. I learned to see beyond the illness and see the person, which was a lot easier than I expected.
They taught me how to suffer with dignity. They made me translate all the theological language I heard throughout the week into the vernacular. They shaped me as a pastor and person without knowing that is what they were doing. I learned how to be present in horrible circumstances. I learned how to listen. I learned how to share. I saw true wisdom first hand. I learned how to laugh. I learned how to play. I learned how to love. I learned how to smile from deep inside. I learned I dominate in air hockey (two losses in three years). I learned resiliency. I learned how to suffer. I learned how to cry. I learned to open my eyes and see the world around me. I learned what the world looks like from 2ft instead of 6ft. I learned how to use a Wii. I learned that nurses are amazing people that don't get enough recognition. I learned more than I can articulate and will continue to glean lessons from people much younger and wiser than I'll ever be. Perhaps most importantly, I learned who I was.
Man, I miss those kids.
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