Fellowship of the Pool

This summer has found me with several opportunities to be at the pool with my daughter. Each experience has been just a bit different based on which pool we were at and if we were there to play or if she was there for swim lessons. One pool experience early on in the summer got me reflecting.

This particular pool experience happened while on vacation. We intentionally had a loose plan with lots of unscheduled time it was bliss. Much of this unscheduled time found us at the pool and because we were at the hotel pools I did not feel a compunction to take the tech to the pool with me. Rather it was kept in the room where it would stay nice and dry. I fully expected that by doing this our little family of three would find ourselves interacting and playing with each other very intentionally. This did happen, but so did something else. We found ourselves talking with the other people at the pool. This is not so new for my daughter; she seems to make friends wherever she goes. My husband coined a great phrase to describe her; she could charm the spots off a ladybug. So her ease in making friends in this tech free time did not surprise me. My husband and I are much more introverted and tend to like to keep to ourselves, so much to our surprise we found ourselves doing much the same thing as our daughter. We were engaging those around us.

This was particularly true in our first stop on vacation in Sedona, AZ, a slower paced more laid back town surrounded by amazing red rock formations. It was here that I began to think about our time at the pool in terms of fellowship. It is amazing what happens when you have a group of strangers gathered together and the cellphones and tablets are NOT present. People begin to talk to each other. It begins simple like what we did that day, any recommendations of places to see or things to do. Then comes the where are you from questions, oh we plan to go there some day, if do you should…. conversations. The moms around the pool eventually turn to the typical mom type conversations. And sometimes the conversations become even deeper, more vulnerable and self-revelatory.

I’m not sure what it is about being around a pool, maybe it has something to do with the very basics of swimwear and the fact that we are stripped of a lot of the trappings we use to distance ourselves from strangers. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we are more relaxed and less burdened by our daily to list. What ever it is that helps this phenomenon, there is one thing that is definite. Community is formed. Even though we knew we would not see each other again most likely, we still took the time to engage and create community. I don’t know if others even knew that was what was happening. The theologian in me certainly was aware of the sacred ground of community I was present to. In Christian circles we often talk about the fellowship of the table; perhaps there is something to be said for the fellowship of the pool.

But then I question do we really need to limit it to just the pool? Is it really the place that creates this, or is it more the intentionality of putting aside our distractions and becoming fully present to our current situation whether it is at the pool or in line at the grocery store. As I have noodled around the experience in Sedona, I have come to the conclusion that yes, this was easier to do at the pool on vacation. But I have also found myself challenged to see how I can find ways to create this on the fly fellowship in other aspects of my life. How would doing so help me to see more of what is good in those around me and find my soul nurtured by these unexpected encounters of community? It is something I seek to explore more and I would invite you on the journey as well.

Baking the Sacrament of Hospitality

One of the things I enjoy doing is baking bread. I long ago gave up my bread machine and started teaching myself the art of baking bread by hand, from scratch. It is a hobby that I love. Part of why I love it is because it is something that I can share with others to nourish their bodies as well as spirit. So when my church offered me the opportunity to make the bread for communion each month, I accepted with a glad heart. At the time I had no idea what this once a month baking would teach me about hospitality. You see our communion table needs to accommodate multiple food allergies and sensitivities. So I set out to find a recipe that would accommodate our needs so that no one would be excluded from or singled out at Christ’s table. For several years now this inclusive bread has graced the communion table of our church and other tables.

As I have taken on this task, it has caused me to reflect deeply on what inclusion at the table means and what hospitality at Christ’s table looks like. I have come to the conclusion that hospitality of Christ’s table is more than just providing bread that all can partake of. It goes deeper than that. By having the same loaf of bread that everyone can eat from we create community. Community is shared when we break and eat of the same loaf. When I eat from the same loaf of bread created for someone with special dietary needs, I am reaching beyond my own ability to eat what ever I want to connect with them in their place of need. It may seem like such a small gesture, but to those that have this need the symbolism and meaning of this deep hospitality is not lost and it connects at a spiritual level.

                  Recently this act of inclusive hospitality was expanded a bit. My daughter is still learning what it means to be a follower of Christ, so she partakes only of the grapes provided during communion for the youngest at the table. This has not stopped her from showing an interest in helping me make the bread each month. So the first Saturday in November she and I went to the kitchen and embarked on the journey of me teaching her how to make the bread. This went beyond just showing her how to measure each ingredient and mix it together. It meant teaching her why we use each type of flour that we do; why there is no dairy or eggs. I was teaching her that the table of Christ is there for everyone, no exceptions, and that the hospitality of the table means that we do our best to be sure everyone is invited and can partake. This is why we make the bread we do and take such care in making it.

                  Another tradition of hospitality that my church engages in is that there are two loaves of bread, one for the table and one loaf to share with a family to take home. In the past, I have been the one to give the bread to a family. This time I had my daughter take the bread over to the chosen family. Not only did she get to help make the bread, she got to participate in the hospitality of giving. The joy on her face at being included in such an important tradition reinforced to me the importance of finding a role for even the youngest at Christ’s table.

                  So now I have a new first Saturday of the month tradition, baking communion bread with my daughter. She has a new role at the table, delivering hospitality. And as we continue in this tradition, I cannot think of a better or more hospitable way to teach my daughter about communion and its meaning.

When the Chaplain’s Heart Breaks

            If I were to say I love what I do every single minute, I would be stretching the truth a bit. The reality is, sometimes I have some really hard days, with some real tough stuff to help families and staff through. Don’t get me wrong, I would not choose to do anything different with my calling, but some days my heart is stretched a bit. Add to this the unavoidable personal tough stuff and my heart gets stretched even more.

            I would really like to believe that all my skills as a chaplain have equipped me to handle all this heart-stretching with grace and in a healthy way that puts me at the other side of it all, completely whole. However, this is not always the case.  Sometimes my heart gets stretched too much and it breaks. I find the burden of grief comes pouring out because it is just too much to continue carrying it all. Sometimes it is awkward and uncomfortable and almost never at a good time. Sometimes it is a challenge to find the space to let the grief pour out, because ministry does not always allow for me to create this grief release on my terms.

            I have had to learn, and am still learning, that sometimes I just have to step away, ask for help and let the grief happen. I have had to learn there is no timeline on grief, that grief can come back even years later, maybe different, but still screaming for attention as loudly as the first day I experienced it.

            What is ironic is that these are all things I tell my patients and families routinely, but yet my own heart still has a hard time learning it. It is impossible to be a chaplain to yourself. This is where it is important to have a good community of colleagues and friends who can gently show me it may be time to seek out help. Those who can help me remember that I am human. That I can’t always do this grief thing on my own and it is ok to need help.

            It is easy to fall into the trap of trying to always seem like you have it together. But that is far from the reality at times. Just maybe, it is okay to have times where I really don’t have it together, feel a complete mess, and don’t know how to get myself pulled back together. I don’t have to like it, but maybe these times are necessary in helping me be better in my understanding and my compassion.