The Mid-Term - That's the Day I'd Quit!

"You have to write about everyone, what you do and don't like. And then there's that last question that you have to say who you have the hardest time with in class and why!" Those were the words of a recent graduate of the program, "consoling" me about what was ahead. When I passed that along to my husband, his response was, "That's the day I'd quit!" And he meant it.

In our class, we have a term called "care-frontation," never to be confused with confrontation. :-) And for our mid-term and final exam each quarter, we have a list of questions regarding the program, content, our supervisors, our own feelings as we've trudged along, and then the part that we're to make a statement about and give a suggestion to each class member. A few other questions are tossed in for good measure, and then that last one shows up, the one about singling out the person you feel most uncomfortable with. (But there's a method to that madness.)

I don't like confrontation and I'm not so sure I'm all in love with carefrontation either. But I suppose I'll get used to it. Or that's the day I quit. Ha!

We arrived to a fairly tight circle of chairs, none of the usual lesson materials waiting on a table nearby. No case studies to dissect after dividing up into two groups. This would be four hours of chaplains taking turns passing out their copies and then reading their entire mid-term aloud to the group. And there are fourteen of us!

And what do we learn and gain from this (besides hearing how our eating habits during class bug someone or that it's disrespectful to show up late, etc.) and WHY WOULD WE STAY? Those, my friends, are excellent questions.

We humans are complex bundles of "stuff" that we literally do STUFF into little hiding places that help us to feel safe and function fairly normally. It can be intimidating and painful to go on an emotional dig and find what's hiding. Interestingly enough, it is those very things that keep us from being the clear vessels we need to be in order to help others to heal. Our own "hidden treasures" get in the way. It's been said that "healing is in the feeling" and it applies to chaplains and not just patients.

Since I'm still enrolled, it's fairly obvious that that wasn't the day I quit. Not even close. I certainly had some apprehension, as is normal for anyone going into a situation for the first time and not knowing exactly what to expect. But my fellow chaplains rocked it. They are generous, lovely people, with hearts the size of Texas.

As for me, I simply burst into tears when I got to the very first chaplain on my list and had to read aloud what I'd written. My mother would never bear her testimony in church, and when we would innocently inquire as to why not, she'd matter-of-factly say, "Because my tear ducts are connected to my bladder." Well thanks, Mom, for passing that little gene abnormality along.

My emotions caught me off guard, and were probably a little surprise to everyone else in the circle, but hey! they're now seeing a side of me that is real and raw. I'm a weeper. I feel my feelings and they spill over any dams I attempt to create.

I stated that I didn't feel uncomfortable with anyone in the room (and I don't!), only that I wished one of the chaplains would share more about herself because I have a feeling there's a lot more there that I don't know a thing about. But here's the clincher. The rest of the question says, "And what does this reveal about you?" Okay, fine. It's obvious that I need to be more open about myself and allow others to peek inside to what is really there. And when they look, they get to tell me what they see, and then I get to do something healthy with that. 

My bladder/tear duct connection isn't going to stop me now.
Please send Kleenex.