The Arrival of Ramadan

Ramadan is here for our Islamic colleagues, friends and family. Give this great infographic a read - especially if you're in leadership and/or in charge of people. While, individuals may not disclose their faith to you, you can still do your part to be attentive and inclusive. ❤

Pastor Anitta +

On Being Nonbinary

Me: Hi. I'm Anitta, the Chaplain here in CCU. I understand that you've made a difficult decision today. 

Family: *insert meaningful story sharing* Well, should we have a prayer? 

Family 2: I think the Chaplain is on his way up. 

Me: Hi. That's me.

Family 2: Oh, I was expecting a tall good looking man. 

Family 1: 😳🤣

Me: I mean, I can get one for you, if you'd prefer. 😅

Us: Recites the Lord's Prayer, a single round of a Hail Mary and Psalm 23 in unison. 🙃

Pastor Anitta +

Working From Home

Working from home is so much better, with this one cheering me on in the background. I wish I could crawl into bed with her though. 😅

Burnout and Vicarious Trauma

 Reminder. 

Pet Therapy

Pet Therapy stopped by the ED to give some TLC to our staff today. It's Ruff out here, folks! Support your local therapy dogs! 🐾🐕‍🦺✨️

Rest Is Radical

In a recent virtual workshop I attended, Rabbi Elliot Kukla challenged the notion of "lazy". They invited participants to reframe and reimagine Laziness as a Spiritual Practice. I wish I could just make their webinar the whole blog post, because it was just THAT good. But, instead, I'll link it HERE. 

Over the last two years, I've taken my Rest pretty seriously. I've guarded my time, been selective about who I share space with and have only pursued relationships which renew me. But, I've done all of this for the purpose of maintaining my minimum in order to keep producing Good Works.

In a Capitalist society, being a healthcare chaplain is a queer experience. We are one of the few service lines that does not produce income for the facility we're employed by. We're like - the Costco Chickens. Hospitals employ us because we add value to the healthcare team and the patient experience. But, they lose money on us and we know it. We are not measured by the income we produce, but the Good Works we contribute. Prior to the Pandemic, I watched Spiritual Care departments and Clinical Pastoral Education programs being removed from hospital budgets. Spiritual Care as a discipline stepped up during COVID, often at a cost to ourselves as providers.

Being a Chaplain during the Pandemic has been *LITERALLY* the hardest. I share in my covenant circles about the days that impact me the most. But, I don't really get to share the details. And, in some cases, I don't get to know the outcome of cases I'm involved in. Working in an environment, of which I can only share vague glimpses, is isolating. However, to have the broader public reject my lived experience as "Fake News" - is a whole other kind of crazy making. To be honest, I have only barely started the processing needed recover from the last two years.

Once we overcame the increase of COVID cases due to holiday gatherings, my hospital began to relax restrictions around visitation and masking. For the first time in two years, I'm seeing the full-face of people that I've been in the trenches with. I've heard my colleagues describe feeling 'overwhelmed' and 'overstimulated' as masking has relaxed. I've felt much of the same.

It seems impossible that after two years, my little world feels like it's breaking back open. Perhaps the Universe knew that this message from Rabbi Kukla was exactly what I needed to hear going into the next season. Even as the world appears to be reopening, I am entitled to Rest simply because I'm *human* and I *exist*. Rest does not have a Pandemic prerequisite. It also does not have to be connected to my ability to produce - whether that is profit or Good Works.

You, Beloved, also deserve to Rest. Not for the purpose of Labor. Not because we've been in a Pandemic. Not because you're feeling some sort of way as the world reopens. Rest because it is radical. Rest because it's necessary. Rest because it is your Divine right. 

Pastor Anitta +

I was there when your child wasn't breathing.

"They told me he's going to die," a father says to me, right before crumbling to the floor in a barren hallway. We sat on the ground for a bit, and eventually moved to a nearby bench. We'd been talking for weeks about this possibility. I remember wiping his tears from my shoulder. I remember wiping my own tears for his child. Today, I got to reintroduce myself to that child and hug that father, and, yes, there were tears, so many tears.

This is the fruit of "stranger ministry" in an acute care setting, over multiple years. Stranger Ministry is hospitality, it is raw and unpredictable, ungated and real. I don't have the privilege of long term, relationship building, pew sitting, small group attending parishioners.

Instead, I have years of living and working in the same community. I have bedsides, hallways and elevator meetings, generational losses and stories of communities who "remember before this wing was built". I have your name loosely in my back pocket because I was there when your mother-in-law died, when your son broke his leg, when your husband OD'd. I sat with your children in waiting areas, I called the local police department looking for your pets, I provided you a boxed lunch. I gave you clothes when you came in partially dressed because clothes were not a priority when your child wasn't breathing. I was there when your child wasn't breathing.

Sometimes I think to myself I can't do this. (I'm sure we all think this on occasion.) Just last week, I exclaimed to my fiancé, "It's like the world has conspired to find new ways to traumatize me." And then small affirmations are placed in my path, like a crying father, to remind me that I'm exactly where I'm called to be.

This job is *frankly* weird as hell. And yet, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. 

Pastor Anitta +