Banff (in photos)

Lake Louise:

Yoho National Park (BC):

Johnston Canyon & Falls:

wildlife in Banff:

"artistic" shots from around Banff:

from Tunnel Mountain:

bustin' my @$$

Oh, wow. I am so sore. My whole body aches. But the good news is that I know I could never have survived Tuesday's work out a mere two weeks ago. I am getting stronger.

Fit

On Tuesday, I began working out with a personal fitness trainer at gym in the hospital where I work. Oh boy, am I ever feeling the "ow" now. She is going to kick my rear end and whip me into shape.

I have been to trainers before. But always at health clubs and never at a health care facility. This gal is good - her assessment unlike any I have ever experienced (she was able to ask me about old injuries before I told her, just from watching me move and seeing how my body compensated). And she is tough.

These next six weeks will be excruciating. But, let me tell you, I am looking forward to it.

cleansing

I began working in hospital ministry in 2000. At that time, like now, we had to wash our hands before and after every patient visit to prohibit the spread of germs from patient to patient. The difference between then and now was that in 2000, we had to walk to a physical sink on the unit, stop, plunge our hands under a stream of hot water, and scrub. Now, we push a lever on one of the ubiquitous hand sanitizer pumps and get handful of cleansing foam which we rub into our hands as we move to the next patient.

While I appreciate the efficiency of the hand sanitizer pumps, I miss the old way of going to the sink. I know, I know, I sound like an old fuddy-duddy, "Back in my day...". But the pumps take something away. I felt this something missing when I first returned to hospital ministry in 2007. But it took me almost a year to figure out that what I was lacking was the ritualistic element of stopping after each patient, cleansing my hands, and then returning to my work without carrying anything from the previous visit into the next. And it's more than just germs I am talking about. Standing at the sink and scrubbing my hands gave me a chance to breathe deeply, to pause and reflect on my previous visit, and to release the emotional weight of that visit before I went into another room and another visit.

The sanitizing foam kills the germs on my hands, but it doesn't actually remove anything from me. Instead it just builds up. After several visit, I notice that my hands have become sticky; the foam, coating all of those dead germs, is still there, getting thicker and thicker and making my hands feel yucky.

My heart feels much the same way when I don't pause and release the emotional weight of each visit before moving onto the next. I understand how burnout happens. And I understand how the visits themselves build up and get all sticky and yucky if I don't take a moment for cleansing and renewal.

looking closely at Looking Closely

I established this blog to "look closely", to examine my world, and to evaluate if my life is indeed indicative of the world I want to live in. The Alice Walker quote in the blog title box pretty much sums it up.

Recently, I have gotten off-track. Some recent posts seem to be motivated more by anger, hurt, and despair than by love, healing, and hope. Now, I want my writing to be true and to reflect my world, and I don't want to sugar-coat serious ills, problems, hypocrisy and even evils. At the same time, I do believe that words are powerful. And they do shape reality. And as I examine my world, and record it, I have the opportunity to use my words to shape the future I am constructing.

As I wrote in a response to a recent anonymous commenter,

I don't want my world to be one where I use sarcasm as a weapon. I don't want my world to be one where my past wounds and past hurts cause me to wound and hurt others. As I "look closely" at [some of these posts], I see my writing motivated by hurt and anger. And life lived in hurt and anger is not the "future I dream of".

I intend to be more mindful with my words, to continue to strive at becoming my better self, and to construct my dreamed-of future in my everyday life.

the professor's wife

In the past year, I have had a number of labels put on me, in some cases even stamped into my passport: immigrant, settler, dependent, wife... And I have been struggling to figure out how these labels relate to words I have previously used to describe myself: citizen, activist, independent, feminist, partner...

Many sacrifices have been made in order for Craig and I to be together and for Craig to assume this amazing position and to fulfill the vocation dream he has held since he was six (he jokes that in 1st Grade, he changed his major for paleontology to astronomy). And some of those sacrifices have been tough for me.

But one thing I have realized is that I LOVE being a "professor's wife"*, although I struggle with being identified as anyone's possession (fortunately Craig would never see me as such). As a professor's wife, I get all of the benefits of the community of academia (stimulating conversations, fascinating community, access to lectures and concerts, etc) without actually having to get the PhD, without having to sit through departmental meetings, and without having to teach (though I think I would enjoy the teaching piece).

Back in the fall, I joined the Faculty Women's Club, which although it is open to women faculty, consists mostly of professor's wives. While my current job does not allow me to attend as many gatherings as I would like, I have enjoyed and appreciated the myriad gifts these women have given to me, namely the gift of empathetic support. These women know what it means to be uprooted for a partner's career. They know what it means to move across the continent or around the globe from one's family. They know the vulnerability one feels as a setller, an immigrant, a newcomer. They know the sacrifices I have made. They have bene there. They have survived. And indeed they have thrived.

The other gift these women give me is the sense that success and accomplishment need not be dependent upon employment. Many of these women had vibrant and thriving careers of their own, but many did not. Some held jobs that filled them with meaning and purpose, others simply worked for additional income, and still others did not draw paychecks for their activities. But all of these women are successful and accomplished. They have lived into their passions. They have filled their time and their lives with growth, learning, service, community, beuty, action, hobbies, and pursuits.

Last night, members of FWC gathered at Eunice's house as she showed us her Inuit art collection, shared her stories of working on various galleries across Canada, and imparted to us her love for and desire to learn about the Inuit people. On the way home, I was talking with my friend Sarah (another gift of FWC) and together, we were commenting on how inspirational these women who have been there are to us newbies who are just figuring out what it means to be a "professor's wife".

I don't know if I'll ever get used to the labels put upon me. I don't know when I'll stop feeling the sense of loss at the life I left behind (even while celebrating the life that currently brings me such joy). I don't know where I will find my sense of purpose, success, and accomplishment in this new world. But I do know I appreciate the wisdom, friendship, and support I receive from me community of "professors' wives".



* Despite the fact that I am not actually Craig's "wife", people still see me as such. Or, they see him as my husband: http://www.phys.ualberta.ca/physicsupdate/archive/FallSocial2008/FallSocial2008/FallSocial2008_008.html

time out

Sally at revgalblogpals writes:

Holy Week is almost upon us, I suspect that ordained or not, other revgal/pals calendars look a bit like mine, FULL, FULL, FULL........

Jesus was great at teaching us to take time out, even in that last week, right up to Maundy Thursday he withdrew, John's gospel tells us he hid! He hid not because he was afraid, but because he knew that he needed physical, mental and spiritual strength to get through...

So faced with a busy week:

1. What restores you physically? Sleep. After a night on-call at the hospital which included a two hour call at 3am, I am in need to physical restoration. Also yoga. And walking. And sex.

2. What strengthens you emotionally/mentally? Friendships. Genuine, engaging friendships. Friendships filled with laughter, authenticity, challenge, vulnerability, acceptance, and love. The type of friendship Dar Williams sings about in her song "Arrival":

My friends give me purple flowers and orange tea
On goosedown spilling quilts and turquoise chairs
We greet each other in a wild profusion of words
And wave farewell amidst the wonderment of air
And in the laughing times we know that we are lucky
And in the quiet times we know that we are blessed
And we will not be alone

This verse always makes me think of my friend Amy's dorm room in Brown Hall.

3. What encourages you spiritually? Friendships (see above). And interestingly, the myriad skeptical/atheist blogs I read.

4. Share a favourite poem or piece of music from the coming week. Six years ago, I wrote a hymn for Palm Sunday. You can find the text here on my old blog.

5.There may be many services for you to attend/lead over the next week, which one are you most looking forward to and why? If there aren't do you have a favourite day in Holy week if so which one is it? My theology is very eucharistic, centered around the communion table. So I LOVE Maundy Thursday. Fortunately, I will be preaching at one of the two Disciples churches in Edmonton on that evening. It will be the frist time I have presided at the communion table in months. I have been feeling so disconnected from my denomination, the wider Church, and religion in general these days - utterly lacking in communion with my tradition, despite frequent church attendance. So, this could be a homecoming of sorts. Or it could be an affirmation that I can't go home again. Or I could realize that I no longer want to call that space home. We'll see...

compassion fatigue

I was "on-call" all weekend. And unlike previous hospitals where I was employed, at my current workplace, we don't get compensation time or recovery time after working a 24-hour or 48-hour shift. See, they don't "require" that we stay in the hospital when we are on-call. We are only "required" to respond to all urgent calls within a a certain amount of time. Since it's possible that we could end up spending the entire night in our own beds, getting a full-night's sleep, we are expected to work our next shift.

My weekend wasn't hard. Until Monday morning, when my pager went off at 1:30 am, 4:30 am, and again at 7:00 am. I didn't get much rest. And I was expected to work. If we "really need" the time to recover, we can take it. But then we are often grilled on whether we "really need" it. And always being in a defensive posture is draining in and of itself.

Yeah, I am bitter. And I am on-call again in two days. So I have anticipatory bitterness, too.

I am also beginning to recognize symptoms of compassion fatigue. Which causes me to question my vocation - even more than I have already been questioning. Sure, I can still provide care, as required by my job description. And I can surprise myself in providing good care, as evidenced by the tokens of gratitude I receive from patients and family members. But I lack joy. And I lack hope. And I lack a genuine desire to be with people in pain and to help ease their suffering. These are kind of essential to my work.

So what do I do? Honestly, I am too tired to even think of doing anything else, much less look for or apply for jobs. So I am stuck.

I realize that this insane, god-awful week will soon be over. And I trust that soon I'll be seeing life through a different lens. But right now, I am exhausted. I am tired. And I am burnt-out.

Question: why is it that so much of our training tells us to practice self-care, to prevent this type of burn-out and fatigues, yet no institution (church/hospital/school) make self-care so dang hard? I have just about given up all hope in having any institution (especially church) care for me, but do they have to make it so difficult for me to care for myself?