Pandemic Parables: Evaluation
Pandemic Parables: Evaluation
Tuesday June 2nd 2020
Today I should be rejoicing, and if not doing a jig around the kitchen table at least celebrating in some way. This is exam week for me and my five fellow Clinical Pastoral Education classmates at the hospital in Frederick, Maryland where I am working as a Resident Chaplain until the end of August. We have come to the end of our penultimate residency semester: three down one to go.
This is a work study program. Residents work forty hours a week either in the hospital or hospice and we get together for two hours three times a week for group work. We also spend an hour a week with our supervisor who concentrates on probing our emotional depths to bring to light and disperse hidden fears and biases.
Our exams consist of writing an in depth paper, called an evaluation. This lays out every aspect of our work-life and learning at the hospital or hospice. You then present the evaluation to your group peers, who in turn read you a letter saying how they think you have, or haven’t, developed over the previous twelve weeks.
Some hold back no punches.
Your paper, and your life are then assessed by your peers and the program director, who concentrates on your deepest emotions - your feelings rather than your thoughts.
The idea is that you do deep work in yourself, which leads you to be a better more aware chaplain when you are with patients.
Because you have done your own internal work you are not sidetracked or triggered by a patient’s issues.
CPE is not for sissies.
I should be rejoicing because I read my exam paper today, the one I spent all weekend writing. Over Webex, and not in person as that is how we meet these days. It was well received. Four more chaplains will endure the process over the next two days, but my heavy lifting is over.
But still I feel a sadness.
A discombobulation.
There is so much going on around us.
Pain and hurt are swirling everywhere like a kaleidoscope on top of pandemic fears.
The hospital though is a world apart. It is a place of healing and hope, although inevitably it also houses grief and sorrow.
They look at outside events through the lens of how much care will the community need and evaluate how can they best provide that care.
For example, there will be a peaceful race equality demonstration in Frederick on Friday. The Emergency Room is already preparing just in case it turns violent.
Extra staff will be on duty.
Negative air flow rooms are being made ready for potentially pepper sprayed patients.
Additional PPE is at the ready.
Our fervent prayer is that none of this will be needed.
That peace will indeed prevail.
And that it will be a quiet night in the ED.
Oh Lord, let it be so!
In Frederick and throughout the nation.
Other kinds of evaluation are going on in the hospital as gradually people who were working at home are returning. Familiar faces keep popping up and it is hard not to hug them.
A social worker on her first day back said from behind a mask that she was clearly not used to:
“It’s really good to be back...
I think.”
She paused thoughtfully:
“It was really hard to work from home. But everything is so different here. It’s harder to return than I thought it would be.”
“It’s all so different,” echoed a personnel manager later in the morning. “Part of me wants to go back into hiding until the changes stop, the ground stops moving, and we can all breathe again.”
It seems that the sadness and discombobulation are everywhere.
So I haven’t been rejoicing tonight that my evaluation is over. I have been sad. Feeling the unrest.
Exhausted
And so very grateful for the refuge of my home.
I think that many of us have reached that place.
Wanting what is good and right to prevail.
Doing our part to make that happen. Whether it is supporting local businesses, sewing masks, cooking, writing, telling, singing, marching.
Praying. Praying. Praying.
Believing that justice will roll on like a river and righteousness will indeed flow like a never failing stream.
And yet at the same time wanting the ground to stop shifting so we can find our equilibrium.
Wanting to stop being so tired.
And in my case having to dig deep inside myself to summon up the strength to do one last semester.
So to all of you who resonate with any of these words. I want to pass on a couple of sayings that are helping me get through this strangest of times.
One was on a plaque in an office at work.
I did a double take when I saw it for I felt the words were waiting for me and soared from the wood right into my heart. They were simple. A bit of a cliche - but exactly what I needed.
“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”
It is.
And we are.
The other is an old Irish saying that I have framed on the wall outside my bedroom.
“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying I will try again tomorrow.“
So courage comrades, fellow warriors.
Let us be strong.
Rest.
Be of good courage.
For the Lord, of all goodness, grace, peace, and love is already in our future.
So our tomorrows will be good.
Copyright © 2020 Geraldine Buckley
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