The Ordinary & the Sacred...One in the Same

Chaplains talk, live and breathe ‘ministry of presence.’ It’s the idea that we are present in the moment with someone in their need, put all of our own stuff aside and focus on right now. It’s the idea that walking with someone, even for a moment in their journey, is sacred time. And I believe that, I truly do. And, it’s not always easy because I live in the real world—where my time and what happens in it is not truly within my control. My ideal is to ‘be present’ wherever and whenever I am needed and this includes the ‘working me’ as well as the ‘home me.’

Here’s the reality: I work full time, I’m a wife and I’m a mother to three kids. It’s usually go-go-go and some days there is simply not enough of me to go around. And on those days I don’t really like how that feels. I want to be present with my patients and families who need that presence, and then I want to be present at home too…not as a chaplain, but as the wife and mom I’d like to think I am. Sometimes, it works great…and sometimes not so much. 

This past week was a ‘not so much.’ I was a little ill.  Not life threatening, turn my world upside down, everything around me changes forever, make my heart skip a beat it’s so awful kind of sick. Rather, run of the mill, crummy, miss a few days of work, lay around in my pj’s and feel sorry for myself kind of sick. It wasn’t very much fun, obviously, because it’s never fun to be sick. Not the end of the world, but certainly not how I would choose to spend my time. 

Instead of being at work during the day—where I felt I belonged—I had to take a deep breath, remember that being sick was beyond my control and stay home.  And, instead of our crazy and regular tag team routine each night—dinner, homework, playtime, kiddos bedtime snuggles, cuddles and giggles…it was “Dad gets to everything for everyone because it’s seven o’clock and Mom’s already in bed.” (‘drooling and snoring’ as my husband likes kindly say). Not so much the kind of wife, mom or chaplain I want to be.  And there was not a thing I could do about it.  It was frustrating to say the least.

Then, last night, Grace.  Beautiful, wonderful, Grace. The kind of moment where the sacred and the ordinary rub thin, where there’s no room between the two.  That moment in my house was sitting alongside my thirteen year old as he read a bedtime story to his two year old sister and six year old brother. Ordinary. Sacred. There was no difference because they were one and the same.  And it brought tears to my eyes (which I held back because the thirteen year old would be HORRIFIED!)

In that moment I remembered it’s okay that I’m not always the kind of mom or wife or chaplain I envision for myself. It’s okay to not be perfect.  Really.  It’s okay that I can’t do everything all of the time. Really. It’s okay that we’re raising kids who, at the end of the day (sometimes), snuggle up and show that they do love each other after all.  Holy Ground…through a simple bedtime story…and a big lesson for mom.