15+ Months - Final Covid Update?

At the beginning of May, I began taking a new supplement.  In my online Long Covid support group people have been posting what has helped them.  Many have found that histamines make their symptoms flare up, and so they are on an anti-histamine diet.  As far as I can tell it means you can eat nothing.  Okay, I exaggerate, but of the food that I eat, very little is included in that diet - if that's what I need to get better, I'm doomed.  Other people have posted all the supplements they're taking.  Two emerged as helping many people - CoQ10 and magnesium. For years, Jan and I have ordered supplements from an online company because their multivitamin comes in liquid form, and we find absorbing liquids much easier than gigantic vitamin pills.  I remembered that some years ago our supplement company started offering CoQ10 as one of those things you "should" take to help with healthy aging.  I just thought they wanted more of our money and ignored it.  When I went to the site to look it up, I found they no longer offered it but that they had a new version, one that includes CoQ10, magnesium, zinc, iron, and more.*  It's supposed to support the creation and health of mitochondria.

Let me digress for a moment - I am cheap. I do not like spending money that I don't need to spend.  Although I take vitamins, I have not truly noticed the difference that they make.  When I saw the price tag of this supplement I couldn't imagine forking out that much for a something that probably wouldn't have a noticeable effect.  But in March and April I had come to believe that my Long Covid had turned into chronic fatigue and that I might not get better.  And a friend reminded me that vitamins aren't cheap.  So I decided that I would try it for one month.  

What a difference a month makes!  I noticed positive effects almost immediately.  My energy was better.  I could do more.  I no longer needed to lie down for meetings.  A number of very stressful pastoral situations cropped up, and I was able to handle them.  I didn't feel overwhelmed by everything, and my mood improved.  The string of good days, previously capped at about 3, started growing.  The number of good days outweighed the bad days, and the bad days weren't as bad.  Hope returned as I began feeling better, and my compassion grew for all of those who suffer with forms of chronic fatigue who don't ever feel better.  I ordered another month's worth.  I began taking longer walks, building up to a daily mile.  Last week, Jan and I ventured out of our neighborhood loop and walked about 2.5 miles on one of our walks.  I kept repeating, "Look how far we've gone.  Look at how far we've gone!"    

June 12 marked 15 months since I noticed my first Covid-19 symptoms in March of 2020.  We could not have known then what a long haul it would be.  So many times I've thought and posted that I was getting better, and sometimes I was for awhile, but then the fatigue would come crashing back down, along with a variety of other symptoms.  This time feels different. I'm still a bit cautious with my optimism because of my prior relapses, but I'm hopeful that this will be my last Long Covid update with regards to my personal health.  Many people in my online group are reporting that they're feeling better about 13-15 months out.  

There are all sorts of exciting things about to happen - the opening of a Moo Thru ice cream store, the creation of St. Monica's community, raising the roof on a women's residential recovery-supported house, planning a house blessing once we finally finish unpacking, Camp Spirit Song for children of addiction, Faith and Recovery conference in Minnesota in the fall, and the list goes on.  It looks like I will get to be part of them!  Thanks to everyone for reading about my ongoing journey and for your prayers and support.  I am so very grateful. 

*For those interested in the supplement, it's called Bod-e Ten and can be found here:  https://www.bodepro.com/featured/ten.  

Grateful for Good Days: Long-Covid Update

Everyone wants me to be better.  I want me to be better.  But I've learned to be grateful for good days. 

A year ago today, after having symptoms for five weeks, I tested positive for Covid 19.  My bishop had instructed me to stop working until I was fully recovered.  We couldn't have known then that "fully recovered" might not happen.  After close to a month off, I returned to work, not really feeling better, but not feeling quite as bad.  Of course, I continue to live in hope (or denial) that I will fully recover at some point, that my energy will return, that I will be able to take long walks again and work full days without having to lie down for meetings or rests, that I will feel like me.  Until that time, I will be grateful for good days.

Folks at church have learned to ask, "Is it a good day?"  Sometimes they know by looking at my face or by how fast I'm moving.  Sometimes I look good even though I feel ready for a nap.  Masks can hide a lot.  Nothing pleases me more than being able to say, "It's a good day."  That means I didn't struggle to shower, dress, and drive in.  That means when I walked up the steps of the pulpit to place my sermon or to light the pulpit candles that I didn't get short of breath.  That means that I might have energy to make lunch when I get home instead of falling over in a heap as soon as I walk in the door.  

Last week I was blessed by a series of good days.  Days when I could take a shower when I got up rather than waiting until later in the day in the hopes that it wouldn't drain all my energy.  Days when I could go to Bruton and then SpiritWorks like I'm supposed to.  Days when I was able to make hospital visits.  I don't get lured anymore into thinking that I'm "cured" or that Long Covid has ended.  So when they ask how I'm doing when I arrive at SpiritWorks, I answer, "I'm grateful for some good days."  

Even though I don't think I'm better, it still surprises me when morning comes like it did on Friday, after a week of good days, including preaching on Sunday, and I can't make myself wake up.  I eventually roused enough to shower and eat some lunch and go in to work, but then I found myself needing to lie back down before I could prepare anything to eat, and I slept for two more hours - 11 1/2 total for the day, and I still had no energy.  We had been invited to a friend's house for dinner, and I didn't know how I would make it.  But I wanted to try.  And I needed to eat.  When we arrived, I was overwhelmed by the sound of friends talking and dogs barking and a warm house.  I seem to have developed an oversensitivity to sound and heat.  I joined Jan outside, and we walked carefully down to the stone terrace overlooking the water - I wasn't sure I would be able to get back up the stairs, but Jan said she'd help me.  The view was worth it.

Sitting there, looking at the water, listening to the gentle breeze rustling the new leaves on the trees, I felt soothed.  That's the word that came to mind.  The view and the air and the new growth of spring were soothing, like a balm for my soul.  One at a time friends came down to talk to me - and I could manage that.  I took a picture so I could remember how it felt to sit there - being restored so that I could enjoy the delicious dinner and good company that would follow.  The rest of the weekend was hard, not bad days, but not good days.  Yesterday I had to attend a meeting lying down with my camera off.  

Today, though.  Today was a good day.  I woke up and showered - always the key, if I can get through that.  Worked from 9-7:30 including four significant meetings and took a walk.  

Today was a good day for a much more important reason than my energy level, though.  Today Derek Chauvin was found guilty on three counts for killing George Floyd by kneeling on his neck.  A white police officer was found guilty for killing a black man.  Accountability.  Police officers risk their lives every day, and I am grateful for their service, but they cannot be above the law, and too many black people have died unjustly.  Today was a good day on the long journey to justice for people of color in this country.  

My experience with Covid-19 is no parallel for the injustice and oppression that people of color endure every day.  But it has helped me understand what it means to be grateful for a good day.  And what it means to know that tomorrow might not be a good day.  Today was a good day for me - but truly I think what boosted my energy was witnessing a tiny step forward in a centuries long struggle - a struggle in which people with one color of skin fight desperately to maintain power over the lives of people with another color of skin, while those people fight to stay alive.  

As I breathe a prayer of thanks, I pray for more good days ahead.  May "justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream."  May we one day know that we are all of one blood, one race, the human race, and may we all treat one another as if each life matters.  Because each one does.  Then, at the end of every day, we can be grateful for a good day.

Vaccine! - 10 1/2 Months In

At this time last year, we had begun celebrating the 15th anniversary of SpiritWorks, Jan and I had started house hunting and planning a wedding, and at Bruton we were in the thick of Lent and Holy Week planning. Who would have guessed that by early March all of that would simply stop?  Who could have anticipated the long-term effect this virus would have on my life.

My last update was at the end of November.  Prednisone for poison ivy had set me back, but I was starting to be able to take walks again.  What I found shortly thereafter was that I could either work or walk.  But I didn't have the energy for both.  So I gave up walking since there were scarcely enough daylight hours in which to walk anyway.  I focused on work and wedding planning and the holidays.  And as long as I rested enough, I seemed to be fine.  Maybe I tired more easily, but no other symptoms.

Until last week.  Whether my post-viral syndrome kicked back in, or whether I overdid, I started having shortness of breath again along with greater fatigue.  I'd been able to be upright in meetings for months, but suddenly I had to lie down to Zoom again.  Now when I say overdid - I don't mean that I ran a marathon or threw a gala or even took a long walk.  I mean that I trimmed a couple of bushes Saturday with the loppers, laid down for 20 minutes, trimmed a couple more, and then rested.  The next day I did livestream church, distributed Communion and led a Zoom Bible study.  By Monday I was worn out and had shortness of breath.  

On Monday I also had a Telehealth visit with a pulmonologist who referred me for a breathing test and an echocardiogram, just to rule some things out.  Now this may not seem like the funny part, but it really was.  There was a cancelation, and I got to do my breathing test on Thursday, much sooner than expected.  I felt like I was on an episode of Call the Midwife as the technician would say, "Now pant" and then she would pant and I would do the same.  "Okay now normal breathing."  "Now breathe out, out, out, and then deep breath back in."  It was cracking me up.  Until I got lightheaded and knew that I was about to pass out.  I asked if I could lay down on the floor since there wasn't a bed in the room.  She looked skeptical until I said I would pass out if I couldn't lie down.  I laid down on the cold tile floor, and she took my vitals.  We both remained calm and chatted until I was able to get back up again.  

This is not the first time that's happened, though it was the first time I needed to lie on the floor.  It also happens at the eye doctor, when giving blood, during my first Covid test, and once or twice when I've made emergency room visits.  So I wasn't worried, but it does seem like if you pass out at your breathing test, you're not going to get an A+!

For much of the week I was feeling discouraged.  I'm tired of being tired, and I long to be able to return to my regular level of activity and walking.  At the same time, when I think of all who have died from this virus, I know how lucky I am.  On the positive side, I was unexpectedly scheduled for the vaccine because of our work at SpiritWorks.  Only reaction has been a very sore arm.  And then today, I felt better than I have all week! Perhaps resting so much this weekend has helped.  Whatever the cause, I'm grateful.  Now if I could just figure out what qualifies as overdoing in this long haul, I'd be really happy!

Gratitude in the Time of Covid

I am grateful.  Not for Covid.  How could I be grateful for a virus that has contributed or directly caused nearly 1.5 million deaths world wide and over 265,000 in the U.S.?  That doesn't even count the economic losses and hardships, the deaths of despair: fatal overdoses or deaths by suicide that have increased dramatically in this time.  A close friend has lost both a brother and a sister to Covid, and a clergy friend has contracted the virus two separate times - both with significant symptoms.  There are also all the long haulers who may or may not return to the health they once experienced.  I am still experiencing long-Covid symptoms.  How I hope I'm not able to contract this thing again.  

So I'm not grateful for Covid.  I wish it hadn't come and invaded our lives and taken so many from us.  I wish it hadn't altered my life and my health.  

That being said, since Covid is here, and it has changed the world, I can choose to be grateful in the midst of it.  

I'm grateful that if I walk every day, my heart rate stops spiking so high and my blood pressure stays lower.  As much as I've always loved walking, I'm even more grateful for the ability to do so after having lost that ability for a chunk of this year.  I'm grateful for the lifts in mood that walking gives me, for the rich fall colors, for the time spent with God's creation.

I'm grateful that the poison ivy I had is gone and I'm no longer taking prednisone.  While on it numerous aches and pains were gone, including the arthritis in my right hand, but withdrawing set me way back - couldn't get out of bed one day.  I will be grateful if I never need prednisone again! 

I'm grateful for breath, for learning to listen to my body better, for learning to rest when my body tells me so.  A slower paced schedule has been a blessing.

I'm grateful for Kasee the miracle kitten who I truly believe is a gift from God.  She has brought so much joy to Jan and me and her followers on the Internet.  Her soft fur and sweet face and lively antics and photogenic personality bring smiles whenever she's around.  I would be even more grateful if she liked to cuddle, but I try to accept that biting is one of her love languages.

I'm grateful for my new home and beautiful neighborhood, 

I'm grateful for my Bruton ministry and the SpiritWorks community and their patience with my up and down recovery.  I'm grateful for meaningful work and the privilege of being with people in their joys and sorrows. 

I'm grateful for our Juneteenth service and Sacred Ground group and for being awakened further to the need for action against racism.  

I'm grateful for my corona buddies - you know who you are!  I wish we hadn't had it, but I'm grateful we could support each other.  Grateful, too, for all who have cared for us, sent cards, brought food, emailed, prayed, and asked how we are doing.

I'm grateful for the red maple tree in the back woods whose leaves are lingering.  The chickadees and tufted titmouses (titmice?) and finches and other birds who provide endless entertainment for Kasee.

I'm grateful for friends far and near and family, biological and chosen.  

I'm grateful that I continue to heal.  I'm grateful that Advent starts tomorrow and Christmas is coming.

And I'm grateful that you continue to read what I write.  :) 

Happy Advent Eve, y'all.  I'm grateful for you!  

Quarantine #3 - Re-exposed

Quarantine #1 for me started on March 13.  I hadn't been feeling great the day before but was scheduled to do an Interment.  I stayed far from the family and left quickly.  Though I was supposed to head on to SpiritWorks, I called in and said I needed to go home and rest.  For the next 17 days I didn't leave my house except to go to the mailbox a couple of times and once to feed the birds.  People have asked me if that was hard.  No.  I felt so ill that staying in for 17 days was a relief.  Though I knew I had COVID because others close to me tested positive, I didn't even have the energy to go get tested.  I laid on the couch and endured.  

Quarantine #2 started on April 20.  After two weeks back at work and trying to resume a relatively normal (though mostly from home) work schedule, I had relapsed with extreme fatigue and shortness of breath.  My bishop put me on medical leave, and I finally got tested.  From the moment I returned home from the Urgent Care, I remained quarantined for 14 more days.  I had fewer symptoms, but the fatigue continued to be debilitating, and again I was grateful for the respite.  Who knew just driving ten minutes to the church could be so exhausting?  Talking on the phone was a chore.  I attended Zoom meetings by lying on my couch with my computer on my belly.

As I saw all the posts of frustrated friends who had cleaned every closet, put together multiple puzzles, redone parts of their homes, or volunteered to help frontline workers or neighbors in need, I felt envious of their energy and activity.  I wanted to clean something, but just taking a shower wiped me out.  

Now I'm on day 3 of Quarantine #3 due to re-exposure. Fortunately, it seems unlikely that I have re-contracted the virus, and my fatigue a couple of days ago is the familiar long-Covid version, not some new symptom.  Although I've had to cancel some things that were important this week, none were urgent, and I'm well enough now that I've been able to use the time.  I am finally able to walk a mile - the exact length of the loop my new home is on, and some days, my heart rate doesn't spike!  I've been doing some writing and have had multiple lengthy Zoom meetings ranging from vestry to Mission and Outreach to our Sacred Ground Dialogue Circle on Race and Faith.  I've read grants on my front porch, eaten lunch on my front porch, and done reading for work on the front porch.  

Every time I facilitate a group, we open with highs and lows.  I had thought my low this week was being re-exposed and having to quarantine again.  It turns out, though, that I've gotten more done and still been able to rest when needed, and of course the dogs and cats are delighted!  Most importantly I'm so glad I voted early.

I certainly hope that we will soon create a safe vaccine that works.  And that we are able to eliminate this virus and stop it from causing death and destruction.  In the meantime, I'm grateful beyond words to have some beautiful fall days where I can work from my porch, take walks, and continue to heal.  Maybe this time, I'll get Quarantine right, and I won't be sent back to do it again!

Learning from the Labyrinth - There's No Right Way

Every time I lead a labyrinth walk, I always begin by saying, "There's no right way to walk the labyrinth.  There's no wrong way to walk the labyrinth.  There is only the way that you walk it today."  I say this as much to remind myself as to instruct others.  For years I didn't "get" the point of walking a labyrinth.  It was pleasant enough, but I was sure I wasn't doing it the right way. That's been true with many a spiritual practice for me.  If I don't have a powerful, tangible experience of God - and by that I mean healing occurs or a vision or an inner voice or a spiritual euphoria - then I must be doing it wrong.  Because other people have those powerful experiences and I don't.  They're right and I am wrong.  Even now, after years of walking the labyrinth and finding it to be a transforming, though often subtle practice, I still fall into the trap of thinking that if a particular walk doesn't yield definable fruit, then I haven't done it quite right.

The other day Jan Brown and I were talking about labyrinths with some other folks.  We discussed how the subtle ways of labyrinths and how they often speak through symbol and metaphor.  Everything that happens on the labyrinth can be useful.  Jan mentioned that some people can't wait to get to the center and get frustrated when the path goes near the center and then turns away.  Someone else mentioned that she didn't think she'd ever get to the center so she just gave up.  Jan asked, "And how do you see that playing out in your life?"

I've heard her ask that question many times before - I even ask that question when I'm facilitating walks.  This time, as I pondered it, I had an epiphany.  When I walk the labyrinth I'm rarely frustrated by the twisting and turning of the path. I don't worry about how long it takes to get to the center; I'm happy to be on the path. My downfall is thinking about what's supposed to be happening. Am I getting the insights I'd hoped for?  Am I listening well enough?  Did I choose the right intention or ask the right question?  Am I paying close enough attention to my breathing?  In other words, am I doing it right?  I know that when I let go and am open to the process and the walk, sometimes insights do come.  Or I'm more aware of what God is doing in creation.  Or I sink into myself more deeply and become clear on some matter simply because I'm not worrying about external factors.  I can hear my inner wisdom and sometimes I'm pretty sure I hear God.  If those things are not happening, then I'm not doing it right. Right?

How do I see that playing out in my life?  Oh, the stories I could tell.  I'm convinced that if I do everything right, then all the outcomes will be what I desire.  And when things don't turn out the way I'd hoped, then I must have done something wrong.  It can be paralyzing when trying to make decisions.  It's not like there's some clear, objective way to know how things will turn out or even if the way they turn out is the right way.  

In the past couple of weeks I've returned to a practice that I have a love/hate relationship with:  centering prayer.  As often as I've tried centering prayer and meditation, I've never been able to get it to work for me.  I'm frustrated by my clamoring thoughts and end the time feeling discouraged that I haven't found the peace that other people experience from these practices.  I've been convinced that I'm not doing it the right way, even though I know THERE IS NO RIGHT WAY.  This time, though, it's working.  I don't know how.  I don't know why.  Maybe it's finally the right time.  (But there is no right time, right? There's only now.) Maybe God has called me to it.  Maybe I'm just in a different place or I have different expectations.  What I know is that I'm showing up, consenting to God's presence in my life, returning to my sacred word when I notice my thoughts, and then going on my way when the time is up.  This time I do feel calmer in my daily life.  I do feel happier.  I'm able to laugh more at all the challenges arising around me.  I'm able to handle my stress better - just as they say will happen when we engage such practices.  

There is no right way.  There is no wrong way.  There is only the way I engage the practice today.  Tomorrow it may be different.  For today, I am grateful.

Small Moves, Small Moves

As I've been recovering from my surgery, my world has narrowed.  My bed, my room, my house.  Just stepping outside the front door feels like an adventure.  For someone who is usually very active and busy, I have had to adjust my expectations.  I'm amazed at the joy I find in achieving the smallest things each day.  I've also been amazed at how hard it is to keep my daily goals small and doable.  I'm reminded of the movie, Contact, with Jodie Foster, in which the child, Ellie Arroway, (Jenna Malone) is adjusting the dial of a ham radio receiver in an attempt to make contact with someone out there.  As her father watches her frustration, he advises, "Small moves, Ellie, small moves."

Small moves, Lauren.  Small moves.  The past two weeks have been about setting small goals and then achieving them.  Or not. Sometimes I pick something that is too hard, and then it's like Ellie turning the receiver dial too much - she winds up with static, and I wind up disappointed by my limitations.  Having the goals gives me something to look forward to, something to work toward, something I can discuss when people check on how I am. Here are a few of them:

Tuesday:  get through surgery, manage pain.  ✓
Wednesday:  walk downstairs and sit on couch.✓
Thursday:  have a BM, shower, change clothes, take a 5 minute walk.  (Way too many goals.  Only achieved the first one.  It's surprising how much you talk about bodily functions after surgery!)
Friday:  have a shower, wear clothes that aren't pajamas, take a short walk.  ✓✓✓ (Did it!  Jan helped me to the mailbox and back.)
Saturday:  take a short walk. ✓ (Jan helped me walk 1/4 way around neighborhood.)
Sunday:  go out to lunch with Jan.  (Too ambitious.  Had to rest from walking the day before.)
Monday:  go to the grocery store. ✓ (Jan took me to lunch and Nicole took me to the grocery store.)
Tuesday:  write some ty notes, make 1 lap around the neighborhood. (about 1/2 mile.)✓✓
Wednesday:  make pumpkin and pecan pies.  ✓
Thursday:  go to Thanksgiving potluck dinner at SpiritWorks.✓
Friday:  walk labyrinth. ✓
Saturday:  go hear bell ringers in CW.✓
Sunday:  go to Celtic service in Richmond for Advent 1 (too ambitious, couldn't do the hours in the car.)

See how small my world has become?  I was so thrilled the day we walked the labyrinth because I was outside in the sun, and walking around my neighborhood has never been so exciting.  Usually that's the walk I take when I'm being lazy and just trying to get in a few steps.  But the two times I've done it, I've gone so slowly, noticing the sun backlighting the golden leaves, feeling the crunch of the leaves under my feet, (HA!  Durn leaf blowers couldn't get them all!) breathing in the chilly, invigorating air, that it has felt like a long journey.  Each time I've been proud to get all the way around.

Having my world narrowed has broadened my gratitude.  So many things to be grateful for.  Gradual healing, time to rest, visit from my brother, excellent care from Jan, beautiful flowers from friends and family, gifts of soup and chicken salad and pumpkin bread and milkshakes, the warmth and purrs of Spirit as she warms my neck, the sweet ball of fur I call Shadow sleeping on my legs, phone calls from family and friends, a delicious Thanksgiving feast, cards and cards and cards.  I feel so loved and supported in this time.

I'm disappointed that I wasn't able to go to the Celtic service tonight.  It feels strange not to be in church for Advent 1.  It seems like every time I take two steps forward, the next day I take one back.  If I want to go back to work on Tuesday, I need to honor my body's needs today.  And today my body needed rest.  Being sick or having surgery teaches me compassion for those who live with sickness or injury all the time.  How hard it is to accept our limitations.  Grateful for the lesson.

Tomorrow's goal is to drive for the first time in two weeks.  And Tuesday I preside at the 7:30am service at Bruton.  There are so many things to be praying for right now.  Will you add me to your list?  Please pray that I can accept the things I am not able to do this week, that I have the energy and strength to do the things I can, and that I have the wisdom to know the difference.  And that I keep resting when I need to.  Small moves, Lauren.  Small moves.

Thank you for your prayers and support.  I am so grateful!!

Marathons and Miracles

The past 10 days have been like running a marathon for me.  I'll bet some of my clergy colleagues will chuckle, thinking I'm a bit of a light weight, but I'm not sure I've ever been responsible for so many liturgies in one week - not even during Holy Week.  This was my schedule:
   Saturday - Blessing of a Civil Marriage with homily and Communion - outdoors at Kingsmill
   Sunday - Preaching and Celebrating both services at St. Stephen's
   Monday - a few pastoral care needs
   Tuesday - 7:30 am Eucharist at Bruton
   Wednesday - 11am Healing Eucharist at Bruton with noon Bible study following
   Thursday - 11am Daughters of the King Installation and Eucharist and luncheon
   Friday - First Fridays Recovery Eucharist
   Sunday - preaching 3 services at Bruton
Each one had a homily or sermon.  I'm ready to keel over in a heap.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining.  If there are two things that I love to do, it's preach and celebrate the Eucharist.  Doing that every day?  It just doesn't get any better than that.  And when I think back to the hours I kept when I worked in the theatre, this is like a jog around the block.

However, just as a marathon runner could probably sail through the race as long as there are no injuries, bad weather, or unexpected occurrences, so too I would have found the week a challenge that I was ready to meet.  Except.

My nemesis.  The Common Cold. 

For the past two weeks I have been struggling with some kind of upper respiratory thingy that has turned into a nasty cough this week.  My head has felt like it has been stuffed with clouds, preventing me from hearing much of what people have said.  I am so grateful for my lifeline of Halls lemon-honey cough drops that has gotten me through each service, though I would be happy if I never had to stick one in my mouth again.  I have drunk enough hot tea with honey and glasses of water to drown a hippopotamus.  Actually, my liquid intake has made me feel like a hippopotamus.  I have spent several hours on several nights sleeping propped up on pillows on my downstairs love seat because lying flat makes me cough too much.  This morning I woke up at 4:11 with a coughing attack that didn't let me go back to sleep. 

I have taken Mucinex.  I have taken NyQuil.  I have taken lots of vitamins. 
I have taken my temperature.  It goes back and forth from 97.5 to 99.

Yes (to all the moms out there) - if my symptoms continue this week, I will go to the doctor.

Plus I've had ants invade my home.  Have you ever battled ants?  They are persistent and ubiquitous little bugs.  Enough said.  

Today in my sermon I talked about how we're often so busy praying for the big miracles that we can miss the small ones that are right in front of our faces.  I have prayed and prayed this week for God to heal me from this cold, but to no avail.  In the midst of my marathon, I have enjoyed the blessing of some of those small miracles:
   -Jan Brown's prayers that I'm convinced got my voice through the last three services today
   -a man who stopped by at the end of the 7:30 service this morning and brought me a fresh picked rose that he said would boost my immune system for 5 days.  Not sure of the veracity of that statement, but it sure made me smile.
   -Hearing Ralph Vaughan Williams The Call played and sung multiple times this morning - one of those hymns that speaks to my soul.
  -the delicious salads at the DOK lunch.
  -the beautiful, sweet faces of all the people at worship.

One of the gifts of starting my time at Bruton not feeling well is that I've been forced to stay grounded.  I haven't felt well enough to be "on," trying to impress.  I've stayed quieter because talking makes me cough.  I've stayed present.  It's given me an opportunity to listen and watch and begin (as I have in each church I've served) to fall in love with the people of God in this place.  

This marathon has ended, and I am grateful to rest.  I am also grateful for the gifts that I've received.
(But if you'd like to take the cough away now, God, I wouldn't complain!)   

Last Day, Full Heart

This morning, after snapping my clerical collar into place and pulling on my Canterbury t-shirt, I put on my CNU Episcopal Chaplain name tag for the last time.  Above it I attached my small “Safe Zone” pin.  Turns out the weather was cool and rainy enough that I also wore my blue and white CNU sweatshirt on top of everything. 

My last day at the prayer station.  It was hard to wrap my brain around it this morning, and now that it’s over, I’m still in disbelief. 

When I arrived today, I took one load of stuff to the Plaza.  I was pleased that it was dry enough to set up outside.  After running inside to order a chicken flatbread sandwich for lunch, since I hadn’t brought anything with me, I went to the chapel to get my sign.  Before I even got the chairs out of their bags, the raindrops began plopping onto the sign, threatening to smear the ink.  I checked my Weather Channel app and saw a big blob of green, yellow, and red approaching the blue dot that indicated my location. Scary looking blob.  Promising more than a few drops of rain.

Time to move inside.

I was disappointed to be inside on the last day, but I was glad that I made that decision because a few minutes later I saw students running into the building, soaking wet.  Umbrellas and hoods went up as students headed out into the downpour.  After picking up my sandwich, I began setting up the chairs in the DSU rotunda, when a senior walked in and greeted me.   

“How are your exams going?” I asked him. 

“I just finished college,” he answered.  He had just emerged from his last final.

I held my hand up, and he gave me an exuberant high five.  The look on his face was priceless.  Joy, wonder, disbelief, shock, amazement.  He told me that last night he had felt a flood of feelings and that it would all take a long time to process.  I bet.  He asked what was going on with me, and when I told him about my new position, he said, “You’re in transition too.”

Yes.  Yes, I am.  I guess I feel a little like he does today – lots of feelings.

My Canterbury students surprised me with a gift at lunch – a book they had made of pictures and notes they had written, including one from our student who is studying abroad.  Some were handwritten; some were typed.  They included our scripture, John 8:32.  At first I thought it was a little writing notebook, but when I opened it I saw what they had done and tears formed behind my eyes.  I couldn’t read it right then because I knew I'd be too emotional, but later in the afternoon I read through each note and smiled with wet eyes as I read their kind and loving words.  It was the best gift they could have given me and will be a book I treasure.  I found myself holding it close and finally put it in my bag.  The student who gave it to me said that they had all pitched in.  My heart was so full - gratitude, humility, sadness, joy, surprise, love.  I know they aren't really my students - they are their own wonderful, individual selves, but I can't help thinking of them as my students, and they will always have a special place in my heart.

At about 1:45 it was time to pack up the prayer station and unload the exam snacks.  St. Stephen's senior warden came by and blessed me by helping me unload and set up.  He also took some pictures and helped with the exam snack table.  I was so grateful for his help.  As always we provided a smorgasbord of options ranging from fruit to Capri-suns to chips to candy, with an especially heavy emphasis on the candy that had been leftover from the Easter egg hunt.  Capri-suns were the first to go.  One of the Canterbury students hung out for about an hour helping us out.  Another came by to pick up a new t-shirt that I had just received from the printer this morning.  A third came by and helpfully filled a bag full of candy for her suite-mates just when we were ready to pack up and assisted us in loading the car.  Hugging each student good-bye was hard, but I am so grateful that I've gotten to have this time with them. 

Leaving CNU early tonight felt strange.  I'm not sure I quite believe it's over.  I will preach and celebrate at St. Stephen's on Sunday at a combined service in my honor and begin another round of good-byes, but today was it for my time on campus.  Like the seniors, I am graduating, and there is a whole heap of feelings.  Though I have a sermon to write and many other things on my list to do, I have been at odds tonight, not quite ready to let go.  New good things are coming, not the least of which is a trip to Denver to see my brother and his family, but for tonight, I'm trying to be with my feelings.  It's okay to be sad.  It's okay to miss them.  It's okay to need time to process.  Both for them and for me. 

Small Humans, Big Difference

When I was in college at Sewanee I often got stressed out over tests and papers and plays.  Adding the angst of relationships, sorority drama, and the general difficulties of being a young adult, I could get quite overwhelmed.  One of my strategies for dealing with the stress was to walk out to the dairy.  It sat on a hill near a couple of trees, and at that time there were no lights around it at all.  I would stand in the road listening to the snuffling of the horses in the field nearby and stare up at the sky.  So. Many. Stars.  I could see the Milky Way clearly and pick out the stars and planets I had learned to name in my Astronomy class.  I have heard people say that when they look up at the vast expanse of space they feel insignificant and disoriented.  That's what I loved about it.  Feeling insignificant.  I would remind myself that I was one small human on one small world in one small galaxy in the whole universe, and suddenly whatever I was worried about just didn't seem quite as overwhelming.  I would spin around in circles while looking at the stars until I got dizzy and fell down laughing.  It was almost as if the spinning shook up my brain and reorganized it so that worry was no longer at the forefront.  Recognizing my insignificance has always been good for my ego and my compulsive worrying.  I'm just not that important in the scheme of the universe.  And that's okay. 

On the other hand, sometimes we can get to feeling so insignificant and powerless to have any affect on the principalities and powers and systems of the world that we can lose hope and give up trying to make a change.  On those days we may need a sign that even as insignificant as one individual is, our presence on the planet makes ripples that extend far beyond the tiny ponds we inhabit.

Today I sat inside the rotunda of the student union at the prayer station.  At one point I got up to take a picture from across the floor.  The sign and chairs looked so small in the rotunda area.  A little spot of peace and comfort on the edge of a room on the first floor of a building in the middle of a campus.  What difference could it possibly make?  And yet it has.  I get credit for showing up.  But God gets credit for making a difference.  Several new people walked by the station today, read the sign, paused, and then came back to ask for prayers.  Probably 50 people walked by and smiled or waved.  More walked by and read the sign and kept moving, but I could see something clicking inside their brains.  Regulars stopped by to check in and share a hug.  I even got to see the Humans of CNU guy again! 

There are many religious groups on this campus, most of them more extroverted and evangelical than we are.  One of them is called Thrive, started by a young friend of mine named Luke.  He has a vision of unity among Christians.  One of the main purposes of Thrive is to gather all the Christian campus ministries at CNU to worship together once a month.  Hundreds of students attend their events, and they have made a huge impact on the campus.  That's one way.  How I've connected with Thrive is through the prayer station.  Some of their leadership members come and sit and chat with me and ask for prayers.  Although I have been unable to attend a Thrive event so far, I have enjoyed my connection with these bold students who are on fire for the Gospel, and I'm looking forward to their event tomorrow night.  The prayer station is a much quieter expression of the Gospel than Thrive, but it has also had an impact on hundreds of students.  One by one.

How grateful I am for the body of Christ, infinite in its variety, each part with its own gifts, all contributing to the whole.  How grateful I am that we, merely human beings, can make a big difference with small acts.  How grateful I am that even a tiny prayer station can offer something that strengthens, encourages, and uplifts those who stop by.  God loves all God has created, small and large, in incredible diversity, each one of us and all that is around us.  Thanks be to God!

Acapella Thursday

Too much rain today - I had to move inside.  My usual indoor spot in the David Student Union was taken by a Christmas tree in the process of being decorated, so I shared the rotunda area with the ROTC recruiters.  It was a fun lunch because we were treated to a performance by the acapella group University Sounds.  I didn't even know that acapella groups were a thing until I saw the movie, Pitch Perfect, a few years ago.  There are at least 6 groups here at CNU.  One of the Canterbury students brought her lunch and sat in my extra chair, and I decided to pull out my lunch while she was eating hers.  We had barely started munching when the USounds began their three song set.  We had front row seats.  Students lined the walls of the rotunda to listen to the impromptu concert.  The group announced that they have a CD coming out in February.  I love being in a place where at any moment I can hear spontaneous singing!  If I'd been outside, I would have missed it.  At one point today I had four Canterbury students surrounding the prayer station as we listened to the mini-concert.  It felt like I was in the cool place.

My extra chair was full most of the time I was at the prayer station.  Several lengthy conversations
and a few prayer requests.  It's such a privilege to be a companion to students as they grow deeper in their relationships with God. It's getting to that time in the semester when tests, papers, and presentations are piling up.  Stress is building and sleep is hard to come by.  I pray for peace and endurance and patience and strength.  I pray for God to remove fears and give wisdom.  I pray for good humor.  Most of all I pray that students will remember that they are God's beloved children no matter how the grades turn out. 

Last week I didn't get to come to CNU because I was driving to Knoxville on my way to Sewanee for the 25th reunion of the class ahead of mine.  It was such a joy to get to see dear old friends and to join with them in a singalong 25th anniversary celebration of our production of Godspell.  CNU isn't the only place where singing breaks out spontaneously!  Because I went on the trip, I missed being here last Thursday, and it felt like I had been gone a long time.  Tonight is our last regular Canterbury meeting before the end of the semester.  Next Thursday is Thanksgiving, and the Thursday after that we will have dinner at Scott Baker's house.  He is a wonderful cook and treats the students to a home-cooked meal at the end of each semester.  Sustenance to get them through exams. 

So much gratitude for this ministry and the students whom God brings my way.  Especially in a time when most of the news is so disturbing - it's a blessing to spend time with all these young people.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Return to the Plaza Prayer Station

I have one word for my return to the Plaza Prayer Station -   Gratitude.  Today I arrived with so much more confidence than the first day last year.  I had my sign and my chairs, and my spot picked out.  In front of the topiary surrounded by yellow marigolds, near the doors to the David Student Union, but not so close to crowd people.  As I sat down I had a twinge of sadness as I thought about the seniors who had graduated and would not be coming by to say hello or share their lunchtime with me.  I pulled out my rosary and said the Lord's Prayer and began my ritual of praying for Administration, Faculty, Staff, and Students.  I didn't get very far before a staff member who I knew from last year came up to request a prayer.  Then one of the Episcopal Campus Ministry leadership team came up and was joined in conversation with me by a student who may become part of ECM.  One of my guys from last year, the first one who ever spoke to me, dropped by for conversation and prayer.  A couple of new students eagerly came up to ask what it was all about and to request prayer for a prosperous school year. 

I sat and gazed out across the Plaza, smiling, as I prayed for blessings on the CNU Campus.  Last year on the first day no one came up to me.  This year I not only had prayer requests and conversation with new and returning students, but many people smiled and waved, and several read the sign and said, "Thank you," or "That's cool!"  I got to speak with the Catholic priests when they passed by on their way from Mass to lunch and chatted with both the new Baptist Campus Minister and the United Campus Ministries Campus Minister.  Lots of turnover in campus ministry at CNU this year. 

The newly finished Christopher Newport Hall Administration building with its gold dome peeked out at me from behind the Trible Library.  A cool breeze and mostly cloudy skies kept the temperature comfortable.  It was a perfect day to sit outside and pray.  Tonight we have our first ECM meeting.  I baked homemade chocolate chip cookie bars as a bribe snack.  I'm eager to see if any new students will decide to join us this year.

When I was explaining what I did to one of the new students, I said, "I'm the Episcopal Chaplain and I work with Episcopal Campus Ministry.  This prayer station is my ministry to the campus."  And it is.  I don't do it to advertise.  I don't do it to recruit new students for ECM.  I do it as a ministry to the whole campus.  As my mentor the Rev. Dr. John Kerr says, the ministry of a college chaplain is to faculty, staff, AND students, not just to a particular group of students.  I'm so grateful to be able to offer this ministry and to have the privilege of sharing the lives of the students, the faculty, and the staff.  May God bless the Prayer Station ministry this year and help those who need it to find it.

New Christopher Newport Hall

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Blessings

A few years ago at the conclusion of a gathering of my colleague group, John Kerr said good-bye to me at the door of his house and spontaneously reached out to give me a blessing as I left.  He said, "We don't do that enough, do we?"  Bless each other.  Ever since he and I have been exchanging blessings, and I have found it to be such a lovely way of praying for each other.  Recently I began reading Russ Parker's book, Rediscovering the Ministry of Blessing.  It talks about the scriptural roots of blessings and the different types of blessings and how they can be used in ministry.  It's been a wonderful book to read in Advent and has inspired me to start thinking about how I can incorporate blessing prayer into my ministry more.  The Plaza Prayer Station is one place I'd like to try it.  

This past Thursday was a day full of blessings.  It started with two St. Stephen's volunteers who helped me load up an abundance of snacks that had been donated by members of the church to hand out to students during their exams.  United Campus Ministries organizes the event.  From 10-4 each day of exams churches come and hand out treats to frazzled exam takers.  Some are nervously preparing to take an exam and some approach the table bleary-eyed, scarcely able to focus because they've been writing essays for 2 1/2 hours.  Some are hyped up with the joy of an exam-gone-well or with sugar and caffeine pulsing through their systems.  We provide chips and fruit and granola bars and other sweet and salty snacks.  We always have a few home-baked items, and those are the most popular of all.  The students are sweet and appreciative, and we assure them of our prayers for them in this stressful time.  This year one student asked for prayer for her baby who is due in 3 weeks, so I was blessed to be able to pray with her.

After time at the snack station I moved out into the cold, windy winter sunshine of the Plaza and set up the station.  A few regulars came by and a couple of new ones.  I prayed for a mission trip to Vietnam and for discernment and clarity for some making decisions as well as for relief from stress and anxiety.  At one point I was startled by the loud sound of three young men on skateboards zooming by.  They weren't my skateboard dudes, but they brought a smile to my face nevertheless.  Another student brought me hot chocolate, and I was grateful because it was cold!

It was my last time to sit in the Plaza this semester.  Just before I decided to pack up, one of the original members of the skateboard crowd came over to chat.  He was the very first one who had come over to me on that warm September afternoon when I began this ministry and told me he thought what I was doing was cool.  The first one to come up and the last one I spoke to before leaving.  Only God, I thought, could bookend the semester so neatly.  I invited him and the campus ministry he's a part of to participate in our "Blessing of the Semester" event that we're going to do on the first Sunday of next semester.  It will be kind of like a house blessing, only we're going to bless all the main buildings on campus.  We'll start on the chapel steps in full vestments, swinging incense and carrying a cross, and we'll make our way through the student union to the humanities, science, and business buildings, past the admin building that's under construction, through the library and back to the chapel.  I'm hoping people will see us crazy Christians and get curious about what we're doing.  Blessing the semester.  Blessing the campus.  Blessing the students, faculty, and staff.  And most of all, giving thanks for all the ways God continues to bless us.  

As for me, I deem the first semester of the Plaza Prayer Station a success beyond my imagining.  I trust that God has blessed CNU through me.  I know God has blessed me through this ministry.  And now, we rest.  Until next semester...

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Gratitude

I arrived today at the prayer station harried and worn out.  Yesterday I had taken my car to the shop for a coolant leak only to find that it needs a new water pump to the tune of a grand and many hours of labor.  That meant no car for today.  Fortunately Jan Brown loaned me hers, so I could get to the prayer station and to Eucharist.  For that I was grateful. 

At the same time, I have awakened the past few mornings feeling stressed and anxious and even depressed.  Turning on the news and scrolling through Facebook show me again and again that Everything Is Awful in the world right now.  From racial injustice to ebola to ISIS to political vitriol and growing rage and hate, I feel overwhelmed by dark things in our world.  And then more particular stress includes a very busy few weeks at both jobs with little time for breathing, rest or pre-holiday activities.  Add increasing costs of insurance and car repairs and other expenses, and I've had a hard time finding serenity this Advent.  I long for peace, and instead I feel simultaneously agitated and weary.

In the rooms of recovery we say that the best antidote for fear, depression, anxiety or other negative emotions is gratitude.  Today I got to witness that in abundance.  The primary theme of my conversations with students today was gratitude.  Several young women whom I've prayed with before came by to tell me that things in their lives were better and to say thank you to me for my presence and my prayers.  A number of other students whom I hadn't met came up just to say that they'd seen me previously from a distance and they wanted to thank me for me being there.  One young man saw my sign and gave me a thumbs up while I was talking with a staff member who had dropped by for conversation, and then he returned a few moments later to ask if he could take a picture of the sign. 

There were a few students clearly feeling stressed by the amount of work they yet need to do this semester, and I was able to say prayers with them, but others simply wanted to say how thankful they were that their work is almost done.  Many people walked by with a smile and a hello even when they didn't stop.  One woman clearly read the part of the sign that says, "Tell me your stories about God," and said, "God is good."  All the time. 

It was very cold at the prayer station today, but I turned on my little heater and it took the chill off of my legs.  One student asked if she could pray for me and said a prayer right then and there for people struggling with addiction and for release from stress.  Though no skateboard dudes were out today, I was able to catch up with one of them later in the coffee shop.  He's taking a class on C.S. Lewis.  Cool!  When I told him I would be there for awhile next week before I head off to do a healing service on the Eastern Shore, he said, "You have the coolest job."  I do.

Sometimes it seems like Everything is Awful.  And many things are right now.  But focusing on gratitude for what is good serves to lighten my heart.  Today at CNU I received prayers and blessings and gratitude, and it fanned the small flame of hope inside that never quite goes out, no matter how the darkness grow.  The light shines in that darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.  I am grateful today for the students and others I encounter in the CNU community and for the gift of this prayer ministry which feeds me as much as it does those for whom I pray. 

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Remember that saying, "Cold hands, warm heart"?  Well, it was definitely true today at the Plaza Prayer Station.  Forecast was for low 50's, overcast and 50% chance of rain.  Reality was mid 40's with a stiff breeze and cooling over the afternoon.  Fortunately the rain didn't start till much later in the day, but I didn't think it would be possible to sit outside in the cold air with no sun.  Talking with my rector this morning I mentioned that I needed fire to warm myself and the students.  Lo and behold, he has a very portable little propane heater that is perfect for the ministry.  So with renewed courage, I set out for the Plaza, feeling confident that my little heater would do the trick and I wouldn't have to move inside. 

With my fleece-lined flannel shirt, coat, and scarf on, and after carrying all my stuff out to the Plaza, I actually felt pretty warm, so I sat down and waited, pulling out my rosary.  I only got halfway through the Lord's Prayer before my first student popped by.  He told me that he loves knowing that I'm there and that when he came out of his lab today he said to himself, "Yep, she's here." He told me he was always going to drop by to say hi.  Warmed my heart!  Not long after another student walked by, read my sign, said, "Cool!" and then called back over her shoulder, "I'll be back."  "I'll be here," I answered, and she did come back later.  There were more "popcorn prayers" today as it was too cold for lengthy conversation, though one student got his lunch and we chatted while we both ate. 

It seemed like I saw more than the usual number of people today which surprised me because of the cold.  No skateboard dudes.  Not many people hanging out in the Plaza.  But people came over with purpose, either requesting prayers or thanking me for being there.  It was an hour and a half before I realized that my hands were like ice and it was time to turn on the little heater.  Alas!  The knob that turns on the gas had fallen off in my car, so I couldn't turn it on.  Though I was disappointed, at least I know I can use it on another day. 

Toward the end of my time a member of the staff came and sat down and asked me what this was all about.  Then he asked if there was anything I wanted prayer for and he prayed with me right there, just like I do with the students.  He's Baptist, so I'm guessing that extemporaneous prayer comes a little more easily for him.  I was grateful for the prayer. 

The whole afternoon filled my heart with warmth no matter how cold my hands got.  I had woken up in a bad mood, and though I have gotten better at trusting that God is going to provide for this ministry, I had thought that today I would have to move out of the Plaza, and I just didn't want to.  At one point a student came past and asked me if I wanted some tea or hot chocolate.  I did indeed, and about 20 minutes later he returned with a steaming cup of it.  While he was inside a flash mob-esque event happened right in front of me.  A young man ran up to a young woman and started singing "You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips..." a la Tom Cruise in Top Gun.  After the first line, about 15-20 young men came running over from all corners of the Plaza and encircled the two, swaying and singing, "You've lost that Sigma feeling..."  Now I have no idea what the young woman did to lose the Sigma feeling, but it was very entertaining for me!

I know I write this over and over, but I am continually amazed at how the students will come up and pour out whatever is troubling them, sometimes to the point of tears streaming down their faces.  Tests and presentations and papers are piling up, and stress is high.  I remind them to breathe and I pray that God will remove their fears and anxiety give them strength and endurance as they work.  I remember those days so well, when all the work was so overwhelming.  But to talk about their worries with a total stranger is evidence to me that God is at work in that Plaza.  It's worth cold hands and feet and nose and ears and an entire chilled body to be able to be a channel for a little spiritual warmth.  Plus, there's chai and chocolate croissants (heated) waiting in the coffee shop when I'm done.  I never thought I, who hate the cold with great passion, would feel grateful for a couple of hours of sitting out in the cold, but my heart is full of gratitude.