God Loves the Gays

Some of you may be wondering what I've been up to in my life of ministry, outside of the hospital. Well, I'm finally ready to tell you. When I moved to Des Moines a year ago, I had a packed car, $30 in my pocket and a whole lot of pain. I found myself seeking home, community, friendship, and affirmation. I tried to find these things in some of the local churches; however, I had become unable to make meaning in a space that used to feel so familiar. I could go on for pages about my struggle with God, faith and the Church over the last year; however, there's a time and place for everything and this is neither!

In the midst of my seeking, part of what I realized was that I needed to be connected to another part of my identity, so... I searched. I searched for a connection to the queer community through pride centers, gay bars and strangers. When my searching turned up fruitless, I created.

With the help of a friend, I created a Facebook group to help queer women, womyn, non-binary and trans folks across Iowa to connect, celebrate and understand one another. Over the last 9 months, this group has grown to 836 members, with more being added everyday. In an average month, we interact over 20k times through posts, comments and reactions.

As a group, we host monthly in-person meetups, an online book club, and other social events to get together and get talking. In the upcoming year, we're launching a coffee/social justice forum in three cities that will meet once a month, a queer prom and so much more. I couldn't do this or keep it going without an amazing leadership team of people who volunteer their time and energy. These are truly the patron saints of the queer community here in Iowa!

Some people may disagree that this is ministry because we don't talk about God everyday. However, the God that I believe in is unequivocally for me and the community that I represent. God shows up in community, in relationship and in the radical hospitality of strangers. God is for the creation of spaces in which the oppressed can be their true selves, share their pain and celebrate their joy.

This is my ministry, and I am so freaking proud of it. ♡

Pastor Anitta +♡

Standing at the Bedside

A few nights ago, I was paged to the hospital as a 'support person' for a particularly difficult case. The nurse told me that the patient had hung himself in the garage the morning before and had just been pronounced brain dead. She also told me that the mother was on her way to the hospital with their 10 year old daughter.

I got dressed, got in my car and Googled the whole way there... I Googled: what to tell a child about their dead parent, what to tell the surviving parent about child grief, how to make sense of suicide, what do pastors think about suicide, how to be present for suicide survivors, the list went on and on...

In many ways, I felt entirely underprepared to be entering into the room with the patient and his loved ones. This is not my first experience of suicide, it's not my first experience when a young child has been involved and its not my first case of parent suicide either. Yet, no matter how many of these cases happen... I'm put back in that place of being a novice in this field.

Standing at the bedside, I witnessed a grieving wife, mother, daughter, and parents. I heard stories about a beloved man, a gardener, Dr. Pepper lover, secret keeper, hide and go seek player and all around great dad. I heard a mother be completely honest with her 10 year old daughter about depression, about suicide and about how they were going to wake up tomorrow without this man because of it. They planned to spend all day writing letters to him, crying, watching movies and planting all of the new plants that dad had purchased. At one point, I too felt warm tears streaming down my face.

After the family left, the patient was taken off of life support and he died moments later. Shortly after, the nurse handed me what appeared to be a large, fancy watch. I inquired about the watch and was informed that it was an ankle bracelet. I found out that the patient had been on house arrest for child pornography charges. I was shocked. And then, I was relieved that I did not have that information prior to being present with the family in the midst of their grief. It brought up a lot of questions for me, questions that I'm embarrassed to share.

When I first began working in this ministry, I was amazed by the fact that most patients could care less about who I am,  my background or what my qualifications are. The only qualification that I need is to bear the title of Chaplain, to be kind, compassionate, empathetic and willing to listen. In many ways, I think this is true of the patient as well. I once had a professor of Pastoral Care inform me that as a Parish minister, it would be part of my responsibility to a congregation to 'invite people to leave the church'. I was horrified. While I understand the need, I cannot imagine being able to ask someone to leave the church.

As a hospital chaplain, I will never be asked to turn my back on someone. I have the privilege of interacting with those who have left the church for a million and one reasons. At the end of the day, my patient's story is no more important than my own. While I am often invited into the deep, dark, secretive places... I never carry that expectation. The only thing that matters is this chance conversations, in which God does what She does best.

So, yes. I am a pastor for pedophiles, murderers, convicts, felons, aunts, uncles, children, moms, dads, doctors, nurses, the wealthy and the poor. I am a pastor for the people.

In the Grip of God's Grace,

Pastor Anitta +♡

Blackberry Winter: Chaplaincy and Dementia

This week for my Psychopathology course, we were required to read the play Blackberry Winter. I felt as if it was well constructed and gave me an interesting insight into the inside life of what happens to the family system when the aging parent reverts to a form of infancy – as it was stated in the play. Throughout the play, I continued to wonder, “How would I pastor Vivienne and would it be different than how I would be a chaplain for her?” My gut instinct tells me that they would be pretty similar. In the clinical setting, more often than not, people are verbalizing a desire to know the “why” to explain what they are going through. However, I find that something within my presence at the bedside allows them to move into another space. It becomes less about the “why” and more about the sharing of stories. With a disorder like dementia, I find that there is less of a ‘why’ attitude and more of a task orientation. I believe that the character in Blackberry Winter embodied this disposition, as well. In some ways, it seems to be easier – safer, maybe? – to stay within the logic of what needs to happen. This strikes me as interesting, given the disorder in and of itself is illogical. I’m also hyper-aware of the term used in Ministry with Persons with Mental Illness and Their Families to describe someone in Vivienne’s position – the ‘sandwich generation’. These are the folks who are simultaneously caring for the aging parent and the coming to age child. As pastor/chaplain, I’m wondering how to be fully present with Vivienne? How do I remain fully present with someone who doesn’t seem to be able to be fully present with themselves?

Secondly, how does one be pastor to the declining parent in this scenario? In Ministry with Persons, dementia is referred to as a “disease of old age”. As this is increasingly true, what is the pastoral response to bring with these folks? In my experience of being present with patient’s experiencing these symptoms, I find that I often question what makes my visit different than any other visit within the hospital and/or a social visit. I’m reflecting here on the time that I spent in a nursing home with my parent (who was an employee). I would regularly visit several ladies who told me the same stories, thought I was a grandchild or could recall just enough to remember that I was a stranger they enjoyed meeting. In both Ministry with Persons and Blackberry Winter, I am struck by the concept of complementary therapies. What is the current model for how we care for these patients? Does it vary across facility? Are there best practices? As someone who does not imagine being in a diagnostic setting – what is my role as pastor? As advocate? Is there a way to ritualize this type of decline in a worship setting?

That’s all I have for now.

In the Grip of God's Grace, 

Pastor Anitta +