I sat with an old friend, Dave Johnson, for a series of conversations. This one is about pain and grief. https://youtu.be/GgR1p9NeXEs
About 7700 people die each day in the US. That’s what the National Vital Statistics report says was true for 2017. That doesn’t include the one in four or so pregnancies that end in miscarriage. I’m not going to do the daily calculations for those sadnesses. I mention this only because it means that there … Continue reading The cost of my distraction
I've done words for a long time. I've been around funerals and memorial services for a long time, too. I want to give you a lesson that I am constantly telling myself because I keep forgetting it. Here's the lesson: people forget what you say. You can offer the best words, the clearest outline, the … Continue reading The most important lesson for a funeral service.
A couple weeks ago, I experienced the hospital from the other side of the bed. I wasn't the chaplain. I wasn't the patient. I was the patient's spouse. So while Nancy was in the hospital, I was at the hospital. For 48 hours, Nancy was in the hospital, moving from triage to an ER bed … Continue reading What I learned by being in the hospital
I talk in patient rooms and hallways all the time about pain and grief and forgiveness. For obvious reasons, there are never cameras. However, our team at Parkview invited Dave Johnson and me to have that conversation and record it. Dave is a nurse educator and therapist I first met twenty years ago. In this … Continue reading Pain, grief, and forgiveness.
How working as a hospital chaplain shapes the way one writer approaches the Biblical text. (Hermeneutics)
As a pastor then, as a chaplain now, I often navigate in a space bounded by positional obligations and patient (and family) expectations, and God’s invitation. So in that space, when it occurs in hospitals (or other places of pastoral care), what does it look like to talk to God on behalf of and in the presence of other people? And, perhaps, to talk to people on behalf of, and in the presence, of God.
What if you and four friends said, “No one is eating alone after a funeral. Churches have meals for members. We’re going to offer meals to families who don’t have churches.” And you became known as the people who were there in the hardest moments of life, not with answers but with presence. What if you provided potluck and pie?
What do you say at the grave of a stillborn baby? A person who was moving in the womb and then wasn't. A person who was part of a story that parents were writing and dreaming and decorating for, and then that story stopped. I'm not sure what you should say. But I thought it might be helpful to tell you what I said once.