Driving into work this week, I witnessed a large carrier van cut an SUV off in front of me. There was the suspected honking from both vehicles involved, my eyes did roll, after the adrenaline in my body simmered down. For me, as I drive over an hour to and from work mostly Monday thru Friday, this is unfortunately common. I travel from my more rural home to a very bustling and busy city. This morning, however, I felt my exhaustion, my alarm and my cynicism during and after the event more prevalent. I had already had a very hard week and it was only Wednesday morning. Alarm in my vulnerable heart hoped road rage would not ensue. It’s sad my mind goes directly to this place when something like this occurs. Road rage to me is just not a middle finger out a window or incessant honking and slurs, I fear guns being pulled and directed at each enraged driver by the other, or someone getting out of a car at a red light. This fear is real. My job tells me it is. I have experienced it through my work. On this day, I knew could not care for another victim’s family due to another senseless crime. This, of course, did not happen and the van turned at the light as the SUV charged on ahead, not before honking another unnecessary time (which I had already guessed would happen- people are predictable). My immediate thought- “I don’t like a majority of humanity they’re all a bunch of idiots. My hope in much of humanity is dead.” (This was an extreme response, but it is a read response.)
I have written about resigning from this job that I love, and at times feel disillusioned to, several times recently. I am working to push through two more years to top off at 20. This is for my own need and insurance, not for any extra benefit or payout. This is why I name “pushing through,” because this is what I’m doing, on most days. Many systems, and what one experiences, will kill parts of them inside. At least this is my experience. Kill may be a strong word, but at times it feels that real. A more appropriate word may be change, it will change you. How can what we do as chaplains not? Being able to find meaning and hope is what keeps those parts of you regenerating or reborn. I meet people in ministry along the way who appear stunned that I am still doing this work 18 years full time, after the throes of a pandemic, trauma day in and day out, death everyday- most of the times tragic and sudden, helping people find hope in the midst of severe and terminal illness, budget cuts, lack of staffing, and system and departmental instability. This used to lead me to question and say, “yes, of course, what do you mean by that?” I now look at those in congregational ministry and ministry of other kinds with envy at times, though I would not want to do their job. Maybe spiritual direction, but at this stage in the game, I want none of any of it to be honest. At least not after I resign from this job. Not for a while. I name my need to heal. I know this is real.
A colleague and dear friend recently left hospital chaplaincy. They realized this work had become too much and had lost both parents while working almost a decade in our level 1 trauma center. When they called to say hello one day, I asked them how they were doing? They responded “Great!” They had a lightness in their voice and a sound of genuine joy, and I was grateful they were so happy. They said to me along the lines of, “burn out is real, you just don’t realize it until you leave the stress and environment.” In that moment, I was envious of her. This job has become my identity, my stability (ironically!), and my consistent income. It’s been terrifying to think of taking a leap like that. However, I think I’m almost there. If I wouldn’t have been able to have the honest conversations with my husband, my trusted colleague, several close friends, my therapist and spiritual director, I probably would have taken the leap already. I have found an incredible peace in the coming 2 years. Today. Today, I have that peace. Tomorrow, next week, a month from now, next year, my content may shift. I do believe that peace has come because I finally in 43 years found a hobby, a love outside of work.
I recently have been able to find regeneration and joy in my garden and also in the boundaries I continue to try and keep in my job and around my energy. My mom asked me why I took up gardening so suddenly and the interest is so persistent? I have always felt connected to nature. In the last five years or so, I have placed a deep love and high value on home. When I was recovering earlier this year, I felt restless in my spirit. It was a restlessness in wanting to come back to work, surprisingly to me. I felt a restlessness in trying to hear or discern what God was trying to tell me. The last several years I have felt this restlessness. I have tried to find the answers by doing what I know best- externally. In April, I began to quiet my spirit and just listen- internally. The external honestly became overwhelming. I felt it in my body. After reconstruction in May and some conversations with a dear friend, it’s like my passion and my desire exploded in me. It was an explosion and spread of complete surprise, yet it wasn’t. I have been exploring and drawn to healthier eating, helping in the blueberries, and more interested in nature and it’s cycles. It’s been a slow growth, but a steady one. It escalated with hard labor cleaning out the compost bin in May. It’s something I never thought I would want to do or would like to do (I’m honestly not one to get in the mud and muck), but my dear friend expressed interest and my committed loyalty was going to make it happen. From there it’s like a wildfire began to burn. Within a few months, I have a cleared, beautiful, healthy growing flower garden I landscaped myself. The joy my plants bring to me is beyond words. The excitement I get to spend time out there every evening after work to water and pick weeds fills me with wholeness and deep love and gratitude. It’s honestly supernatural.
I have been listening to Roots and Refuge Farm’s Podcast most recently and have gleaned so much wisdom and understanding for what is going on in me. I have found someone who has the words I don’t. Melissa K Norris is another. When I am jaded, joyless, and without hope about whatever, I go to my garden now. I go home and spend time with my family. I wrote this recently on an instagram post with some pictures of my garden:
I don’t know that I’ve ever created something so sacred and beautiful as this outdoor space. It makes my heart so happy and my spirit so grounded. Someone mentioned to me nature being worship for me… my most rooted, and intimate image from scripture is God walking in the garden with Adam and Eve. I’ve held onto it since a little girl. Being in my garden and in nature is wholeness. It’s a part of me I didn’t slow down enough to know was missing. I’m grateful I am. What a journey it has been and will continue to be.
The Journey Home 