Fallow fields, crop rotation and the work of chaplaincy

Photo credit: Karen Nelson

If you have been following me here, you by now know that a little over a month ago I hit a desperate spot spiritually. I was bone dry, beat up and barely muddling through caring for my high need areas of coverage at the hospital. I finally took the courage to step up and ask for what I really needed – to be re-assigned, at least for a while.

It was good to have the break, a time for me to step back and get back to less intense units and doing the work of responding to referrals and other work that was similar to what I did as chaplain just starting out at my place of employment. And until recently that is exactly how I saw this time – a break.

Then I listened to a pod cast by Rob Bell that talked about the practice of Sabbath and the practice of letting a field lay fallow you can listen to it here. This reminded me of something I picked up during my years growing up in a rural area. Farmers will often times rotate the crops that they grow in a field. This allows for a field to not be depleted of important nutrients by having the same crop grown in it over and over again.

As I reflected on this idea of crop rotation and letting ground lay fallow (not have anything growing in it) I began to realize that my request to take time away from one area and be reassigned was not “copping out” but instead implementing a good spiritual practice of care to the field of my soul. By moving away from one area and into another I was given the opportunity to let my soul be nourished with important nutrients of not having every day be filled with the high paced need of critical care, that I was being given space to reconnect with skills of teaching and visioning and dreaming with colleagues that I had not been able to do for so long. I was given the gift of going back to areas and hearing people say I have missed seeing you and getting to reconnect.

Something else happened during this time away, my own spiritual practices changed. I found myself doing a lot of what I call contemplative coloring. I put aside the books I was reading. What at the time felt like doing nothing was actually letting my soul lay fallow and just rest. And how I needed that rest time. That time to not be diving deep, to not be drawing on nutrients that were almost gone. To just let the field of my soul be. And as I have felt drawn back into the books I have in my quiet space at home I am finding what once felt dry and barren in my soul now feels rich and filled once more.

Both this time of spiritual fallowness and the time of assignment rotation has allowed for a safer, healthier response to the emotional work of chaplaincy. I am left reflecting on the metaphor of fallow fields and crop rotation. I am left wondering if there is greater implication for the work of chaplaincy – the idea of after a designated period rotating from one area to another. I wonder if a spiritual practice of rotation would help with the issue of compassion fatigue and burn out that comes in work that is so emotionally heavy.

I know how I would answer these wonderings for myself. Yes, my rotation away helped with my compassion fatigue and close to burn out. I would say that it has given me a fresh passion for my work as chaplain. It is now another self care practice I am adding to my tool box. I am now moving forward with a new intentionality of keeping this practice of balance between a well paced rotation in and out of low and high need areas mixed in with a hefty dose of personal Sabbath time. And with it holding continued hope for years of a healthy journey in my vocation of chaplaincy. 

Photo credit: Karen Nelson

The Reformation of a List Follower

The last several weeks, I have been working hard on giving myself space. This was necessary as I lived into and through a season of change in my chaplaincy world. It has been in this space that I have been musing on a couple of metaphors to help reshape the way I approach my chaplaincy day and why this time of doing something different was so important.

One thing that is important to know is I enjoy lists. I get a certain satisfaction of being able to check things off my list. There is nothing better in my organizational life than seeing a list fully accomplished. However, there is a down side to this, I can get very focused on the list and that is not always a good thing.

It was this list focus and the stress it was causing in my workday that sent me on a journey of rediscovering a better relationship to the lists of my workday. You see, each day I work from a list – a list of patients to see and lists of units that need to be checked in on. And each day there is always the possibility of something “interrupting” my movement down the list of patients and units to see. For my sanity I had to come up with a better way of viewing my lists of the day. And that is when the aha moment hit.

Growing up in Colorado I had quite a bit of exposure to hiking and camping. I remember my father sitting at the kitchen table looking at topographical maps and planning backcountry back packing trips, one of them being a family-backpacking trip. A brief primer on topographical maps, they give you the lay of the land you are hiking in, telling you elevations, hiking trails and landmarks. I was taught that you never go out backcountry hiking with out the topographical map and a compass. This way if you find yourself off the trail you can re-orient yourself to where you are and where you need/want to be.

Remembering this little tidbit from my youth gave me insight into what my lists of the day could be. I began to look at my lists a bit like a topographical map. Giving me the lay of the land of the “wilderness” of the hospital and the patients, families and staff I encounter each day. When something “off list” comes to my attention it is much like going off trail – a new adventure – but eventually that “adventure” is over and I need to get back on track. That is the new role of the list – not something that drives my day, but rather more like the topographical map that gives me the lay of what my day might look like.

I am still working with in this metaphor, seeing if it really works for me. But after a month of living with it, I am feeling more settled into the ebb and flow of life as a hospital chaplain than I have in a long time. The inevitable page that calls me away from my planned day is not as anxiety provoking to this reforming list follower. I am finding myself feeling freer to respond to the needs of the day – even if they are not on my original “to do list.” And if I find myself needing a bit of re-orientation to my day, the list is there to help me.

You would have thought that I would have figured this out sooner, seeing as how I have been doing this chaplain thing for close to 15 years now. I’m just glad that I discovered it now and was encouraged to work towards this internal change. 

And speaking of change that leads to the other metaphor I have been playing around with. But you will have to stay tuned for that one, because that is a whole other blog post of it’s own.

Lent Week 3: Permissive Space

If you have been following me here you will know that the Lent blog and extra post of last week found me in a pretty vulnerable and raw place.  I had indicated that I was taking a spiritual time out and doing something different. This week’s Lent practice found me sitting on the floor with my daughter, markers and colored pencils in hand, coloring together the picture that went with her coloring practice she has chosen for Lent.  We would take turns reading the prayer and blessing that went with the picture with some days her asking for us to read it together.

I have found so much joy and renewal in this space with her. There is no pressure to have any deep theological thoughts, only the space to be together in a quiet contemplative way in God’s Holy presence. The simplicity of this space and practice is feeding my soul in a way that the other two weeks have not. It has been in this quiet permissive space of just being that I have found the courage to completely toss aside what I thought was to be my own personal Lent devotional and ask CJ if I could join her for the rest of Lent and color with her.  Her grace continues to be abundant to me and her welcome of me into what was to be her private practice is joy to my somewhat battered and weary soul.  It is in this permissive space that I am finding my own soul healing.

This week she got her picture done first and asked me if she could help me finish mine.  The process of working together, trying to figure out how we both were going to work in the same small space brought some laughter as our hands danced around each other.  It was also an exercise in me letting go of the exact colors and patterns I had in my minds eye so that she could contribute her own creative mark.  The result was not only a beautiful picture, but also a restoration of an element of fun and creativity in our relationship that had been lost in the stress, busyness and the fact that I had been so deep in my own soul over the last months. Her words at dinner one night hit straight to the heart when she said, “ I have missed this part of you.” Meaning the playful, teasing mother I try to be. 

Once again the grace of her permissive space was what enabled my more serious, goal driven self to give way to a more playful me. It has been in the permissive space that I have found the ability to let go of the need to blog every week through Lent on my creative process and great insights. And thus giving way to more space for my daughter, my family, laughter and a renewed sense of self.  And others are noticing, commenting on how much happier I am now.

This coloring together in permissive space is something that has connected us in a new way, finding something else that we both love to do together.  I just purchased a book of abstract spirals to color.  Last weekend we worked on the first one together.  It’s been a busy week, and she has already asked when we can color together in the book again. And so this morning practice has grown into a shared interest that moves beyond the space of a Lent devotional and into the Holy space of our daily relationship.  And for this I am grateful.

I’ll be back here every now and then through Lent and beyond when nuggets of inspiration and wisdom come to me needing to be written and shared.  But in the mean time, you can find me coloring myself whole again and restoring the more playful parts of my relationship with my daughter in this wonderful, grace-filled permissive space.