It's One of Those Days...

...and it's not even 11 AM yet.

I leave for Chicago at 2:15 today for the Vermont Oxford Conference. I got up and got my packing done, then headed to Tipmasters in Jeaux's car, since I don't want to leave the good car in long term parking. I came out after the meeting and the car wouldn't start. David Olinde had jumper cables, but even after a dozen tries we couldn't get it started. Kyle Jeansonne actually got under my hood. He stayed there about 45 minutes and finally found some corroded battery wires. He cleaned them off and I was back in business, at least enough to get home. And my friend Pam Bordelon followed me home to make sure I made it back safely.

Now the problem is how to get to the airport. Jeaux is stuck on the unit and can't get off until someone is there to relieve him. Jay is still house-bound from her double-ankle mishap at the beginning of February. Barbara is working, all my family now lives in Alabama or Tennessee, Lauryn is stuck at home waiting for the Tivo Installer man to show up (he's already 30 minutes late) and I can't reach any of the other people travelling with me. The car would probably make it, but we're not sure, and we'd be even less sure that it would start again Sunday night when my flight lands. So both the car and I would be stuck until Jeaux could come get us. It would mean a AAA tow to get the car back home, and it would mean paying someone to do some work that Jeaux could probably do this weekend if the car was at home.

Oh, well. At least I had the car. If Jeaux had taken it today, it would have stranded him close to dark, downtown, and Elizabeth here by herself, and he'd have had more trouble getting a ride than I would have.

Engineers & Cats

I've seen this in a couple of different places, but most recently on Reverend Mommy's Random Thoughts.

As someone who spent large chunks of my life with both engineers and cats, I just had to post it.

Walking a Black Dog

A couple of things happened in the last couple of days that have me thinking about my depression, and mental illness/health in general.

First of all, I read a blog called Walking The Black Dog that covers what it's like to live with depression. The author refers to Winston Churchill's referring to his own depression as a "a black dog." The blogger's post today was about the estimate that over a quarter million of our current military are suffering from depression or PTSD. Another quarter million suffer from Traumatic Brain Injury. That's over half a million people. And we're not prepared for them to come home. We can't handle the mental illness that's in our communities now -- how do we handle 620,000 soldiers, sailors, and marines?

The second thing that happened was that in my Bible Study class last night, we talked about the Geresene Demoniac in Mark (Mark 5:1-20. You may remember it as the one where the demon says "I am legion" and Jesus drives the demons into the pigs). That brought up a discussion of mental illness -- how it feels to be a family member of a mentally ill person, how the community feels about it, how the person him/herself feels. I didn't claim my depression during the session, but I did in an informal conversation after the class.

We don't know how to handle mental illness any better than the people of the ancient Middle East did. We're all OK with it as long as you keep it from being messy. You can be depressed, as long as you take something for it, and don't let it get all over my stuff. But don't have schizophrenia, or bipolar disorder, or something else that's not well treated with drugs.

I know this isn't anything new I'm saying. I just needed to write it down. Maybe I can write about it in a smarter, more impressive way next time.

Sad (& Kind of Scared)

My dear husband was taking call for the unit manager this weekend ... I say "was" because he doesn't get paid for "on call" when he's actually "at work" ... which he is now.

He spent all day painting the gable on the south side of the house, then we enjoyed supper on the porch. We were getting ready to wind down for the night and the hospital called. There was a nurse who no-showed, and now he's the only one available to go in. That's NOT what he's supposed to be on call for. His job as manager on call is to advise nursing services as to who is qualified in what position, and who can and should be trusted with what responsibility. For instance, if they needed to pull a nurse from another unit, he'd help NS decide which unit needed it the most, and who would make the best mentor for a "visiting"nurse.

But tonight, he ended up going in to work. He doesn't know when he'll get off; could be 11, could be 7 AM. He promised that if he goes until 7, he'll find a place to sleep before he drives home, but this can't be a safe way to provide medical care.

I know there's a nursing shortage now, and it's tough to get nurses. It just seems odd to me that hospitals can't manage to get enough reimbursement to pay nurses what they need, but we can spend 30% of our health care dollars on paying people to come up with reasons not to pay for our medical care.

He's an excellent nurse; he's been honored numerous times by his hospital, and once by a city-wide medical publication, so I know he's going to do a better job without sleep than anyone else would in the same situation. I just hope that the night is quiet, and his charge nurse can handle most of the tougher cases. I can't imagine making the kind of decisions he makes every day, much less making them after being up for 24 hours.

NICU Reunion

One of my many hats is that of Board Member for the NICU Family Support Network of Baton Rouge. It's a group of parents of NICU graduates who have come together to offer support to current NICU parents and to advise Woman's Hospital when they need parent input. Sunday was the annual NICU Reunion, and several of the network members and our babies ("babies" being, of course, a somewhat inaccurate term in our case) gathered for a photo.

It's so cool to see all the babies thriving and doing well.

Improv Everywhere

Improv Everywhere is the group you might have seen on the news a couple of months ago. They did an event at Grand Central Station where all the participants, called "Agents" within the group, simultaneously froze for several minutes.

Their latest event was at a Little League baseball game. I've got to admit that I cringed when I read about it; I've seen so many stunts that humiliate kids -- or worse, humiliate one kid for the entertainment of other kids -- but this one not only entertained me, it also warmed my heart. These kids will NEVER forget this day!

Bishops I Have Known

In the United Methodist Church, the office of Bishop is the highest hierarchical position. A bishop presides over a Conference, which is usually the size of a small-to-mid-sized state, so most members of the church never get to meet a bishop.

The picture to the right is of me with at least three bishops. The three children are my sisters and myself (I'm the tallest one) and the three men in the photo are, left to right, Bishop Paul Galloway, Bishop O. E. Slater, and Bishop Paul Martin. At least that's who we think they are. This photo was taken about 1966 at Mt. Sequoyah in Fayetteville, Arkansas. I was about 8.

I don't remember much of the trip, but I do remember that my grandfather was in lots of meetings, and we got to spend time with my grandmother. She liked to go out onto the grounds and paint. I have a moment frozen in my memory of her easel set up on a grassy area that gave her a good view of the mountains, and my sisters and I were playing around her.

Fifteen or twenty years later, Bishop Kenneth Shamblin presided when my grandparents renewed their vows on their 50th wedding anniversary. I don't remember much about that meeting either, since we were hostessing the reception right after the ceremony. From the photo at left, you can tell that in addition to hostessing, I was photographer, and did a pretty poor job of it. Or maybe I could blame it on my cheap camera. Thank goodness my skills, not to mention the technology, have made great strides since then.

There was one other Bishop -- he was the father of a high school classmate, but he didn't become bishop until way after we had graduated and lost touch. My friend was Bruce Hearn, and his dad was Bishop Woody Hearn.

What brought all this on was that I was looking in the UMC newspaper a couple of weeks ago, and saw one of my college classmates in a group of people being considered for election to Bishop at General Conference this summer. His name is Tim Bruster, and he's the senior pastor at First UMC in Fort Worth, Texas. (I'd put up his picture, but I'd hate to steal FUMC's bandwidth with my incredibly high-traffic blog)

I remember much more about Tim than any of those other guys. Most of all, I remember our 7 AM Greek class our senior year ... a class I attended less frequently than I should have. You'd think the fact that the class was made up of me and 7 male classmates would have overridden the 7AM starting time, but that demonstrates just how much of a morning person I'm not.

I also remember that he worked as a "Dorm Daddy" at James Dorm. The doors were locked at midnight, but a male student was paid to spend the night on a cot in the lobby to let residents in and out. On Tim's Dorm Daddy night (I think it was Tuesday, but my memory may be failing me), several of the Church Careers students would often end up in the lobby of the dorm studying until the wee hours of the morning.

Tim was always one of my favorite classmates, and I'm just so impressed that he's being considered. I just think that's really cool.

The Internet as Community

I play this game online called Kingdom of Loathing. It's a spoof of online adventure games, with lots of humor and obscure pop culture references. Last week we found out that one of the players suffered the greatest loss imaginable; her young child was murdered by his father. I had never met her, in person or online. I had never heard her in-game name before it became connected with this event.

Once the news became known, several people and clans (groups of players who band together to reach common goals) started raising money by donating and selling in-game and real-life items. At least a couple of thousand real-life dollars have been donated that I'm aware of.

The internet has changed the way we relate to information, but it's also changed the way we relate to other people. This tragedy struck a woman who lives several states away from me, a woman I'd never have met except through this, and yet I find myself wanting to do something for her. I feel like I share in her loss in a tangible way. She's a part of my world, more than some family members. And it seems odd to me when I remember that we really don't know each other at all.

Kerygma Bible Study

I started a new Bible study tonight ... the series is called Kerygma, and we're starting with the Gospel of Mark. I haven't done a Bible Study in a long time. I won't say how long it's been, but I think last time was for credit for my degree.

Which I got in 1981.

Anyway, it's almost like starting over. I remember the high points, but it's been a loooooooong time.

1. A Really Cool Thing

The class is being led by the woman who actually wrote the study, Dr. Carol Miller. How cool is that? She's retired now, and she and her husband Rick, both UMC ministers, decided to land here. (I'm not sure I understand why, because I'd actually like to land somewhere where, 7 months out of the year, daytime highs in the 90's are not considered a cool spell.) I admire her ability to express strong opinions without them becoming personal. That's not a skill I ever managed to develop, so I'm impressed when I see it in other people.

2. A Somewhat Anxiety-Producing Thing

If you drew a line and labeled one end "Fundamentalist" you could pretty much draw a picture of me hanging off the other end of the line, listing to starboard. I believe strongly in everyone's right to meet God wherever they are, and in God's ability to be there, no matter what. But fundamentalists scare me. I always fear that they're waiting for me to say something that they can pounce on and use to announce to the world that I'm doomed to spend eternity in Hell. And living in Louisiana, wedged between the Baptists and the Catholics, being theologically liberal is asking for trouble. Rather than run that risk, I usually just keep my mouth shut, and avoid situations where it might come up (which explains why I haven't done a Bible Study since I left college). I'm still not sure I'll be able to take the risk of speaking out. Even if I don't, it'll be interesting to watch Carol do it. Maybe I'll learn from her.

Fundamentalism

One of my recently-discovered favorite spirituality blogs is called Following Frodo. It's written by a United Church of Canada minister, and s/he recently did a series called "Why I'm Not a Fundamentalist." It's worth looking into.

Why I'm Not a Fundamentalist, Part 1, Scripture
Why I'm Not a Fundamentalist, Part 2, Virgin Birth
Why I'm Not a Fundamentalist, Part 3, Atonement
Why I'm Not a Fundamentalist, Part 4, (Bodily) Resurrection
Why I'm Not a Fundamentalist, Part 5, Jesus' Return