What Breaks Your Heart?

Hello friends,

Awhile back, while I was still at home in Cannon Falls, one of my pastors preached a sermon from the pulpit where he asked the parishioners, "What breaks your heart?" He gave various examples throughout the gospel text, at the trial and crucifixion of Christ, where the disciples hearts broke. Where Jesus' heart broke.

I'm taking my Clinical Pastoral Education experience this semester, where I'm a chaplain at Unity Hospital. For three weeks we've wrestled with getting into a room, been coached through the "art of simply being", and we've wondered and sought answers to what our pastoral authority and identity might look like. It's been trying, exhausting, consuming, exhilarating, and joyful all at the same time.

Part of our work at the hospital is making sure that spiritual care consults are attended to. This is where patients, family, and/or staff can put in specific requests on a patient's chart for a chaplain to visit. Generally, most days I don't have many since I'm on the surgery-orthopedics recovery floor, and most days patients just want to rest.

I had two today, though, and I had the realization. This work, these people, are what breaks my heart.

I walked into one room, unsure of what to expect. I tell the woman lying in the bed that I'm a chaplain, that spiritual care was requested. She looks at me, "No, I didn't ask for anyone. Maybe I did. I don't know." The woman was detoxing from severe alcohol abuse. We talked of fear, of uncertainty, of what to do next. My heart broke. No support system here; the only family lives in Texas. This woman hasn't gone to church in years because the people are hypocritical there and the singing is like praying but the faith she has in God is beautiful, amazing, and could easily be more authentic, vibrant, and vulnerable than any seasoned churchgoer. She requests a prayer and I pray, words of healing and hope and finding your way in the midst of uncertainty, in the midst of all the shit that life brings. Tears fall from her eyes, and I promise a return visit. Soon. I leave the room, and my own eyes well. My heart breaks.

Another visit, a man this time. Younger. Married, and has a job that makes almost six figures a year. He's in for chronic pancreatic pain, and just wishes they would take it out this time. The pain is unbearable, and the man is almost in tears. Finances, family, work, and emotions are in ruin, and he knows no way out. What do I do, he asks? I sit there. I don't know. I don't know what to say, I don't know what I could say that would be helpful in any way because I haven't had it as nearly as bad as this man has. So, I lean over, I say "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I let those words sink in for a moment. I offer a prayer, and he says yes.

I pray, again. For God's peace, God's overwhelming providence in the midst of life's crap, for hope when everything seems to be in despair. For God's light to be with him, for Christ to walk alongside him. I pray for everything this man so desperately wants. A sense of normalcy. He thanks me; I leave. My heart breaks.

I left the hospital tonight unsure of what I was thinking. I left the hospital this night praying for all the people I had visited. I hoped I had done enough. I pray that God blesses them and keeps them, that God makes God's face shine upon them. That God is gracious unto them, and gives them peace, now and for the rest of their days.

I ask you, my friends this night. What breaks your heart? Spend some time contemplating. Spend some time thinking on that. Give thanks for this wondrous life we all live.

Dean