THE BISHOP’S COLUMN | CAMP ALLEN | PROFILES
Diolog
JUNE 2012
VOLUME 2
NUMBER 2
The Texas Episcopalian
HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN page 08
BATTER UP! EPISCOPAL NIGHT AT THE BALLPARK page 35
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www.epicenter.org
Diolog: The Texas Episcopalian (since 1874) is an official publication of the Episcopal Diocese of Texas.
Our mission is to bring you the wealth of stories from the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion, to inform and inspire you and to deepen your spiritual life. PUBLISHER:
The Rt. Rev. C. Andrew Doyle
EDITOR: Carol E. Barnwell, cbarnwell@epicenter.org DESIGNER:
LaShane K. Eaglin, leaglin@epicenter.org
STAFF WRITER:
Luke Blount, lblount@epicenter.org
Diolog: The Texas Episcopalian (PE# USPS 10965, ISSN# 1074-441X) is published quarterly (March, June, September and December) for $25 a year by the Episcopal Diocese of Texas, 1225 Texas St., Houston, TX 77002-3504. Periodical postage paid at Houston, TX. Address changes may be emailed to: txepis@epicenter.org
POSTMASTER: Address changes: Diolog: The Texas
Episcopalian, 1225 Texas St., Houston, TX 77002-3504
Š 2012 The Episcopal Diocese of Texas
The Episcopal Diocese of Texas
Contents:
JUNE 2012
In This Issue: 04 EDITOR’S LETTER Carol E. Barnwell
06
FAITH & HEALING 07 Bishop’s Column 08 How the Light Gets In 11 God Was Nowhere and Everywhere
FAITH & HEALING In life, there sometimes comes a moment when you know things will never be the same. Where is your faith then?
12 Glory in the Midst 14 Receiving Care Can Be Grace Filled 16 Grief & Wonder Trilogy 18 Perfect in Every Way 20 Hope and Healing
PROFILES
Luminary, Mark Gwin page 23
26
The Arts, Houston’s Homeless page 26 Advocate, Project Safety Net page 28 Congregation, St. Luke’s Hospital page 30
HOUSTON HOMELESS
33 CAMP ALLEN
Every month, homeless men and women meet at The Beacon
34 BISHOP’S CALENDAR & PEOPLE
in Houston to find their creative spark.
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EDITOR’S LETTER
Brokenness Made New Getting my arms around this issue has been a challenge because the subject is so broad. I first heard Angela Blanchard speak at St. Martin’s during a series on faith and wellness. I knew that particular subject would interest a lot of people, so a version of Angela’s presentation became the 30,000-foot view and anchor for other articles in this month’s issue of Diolog. Angela is CEO of Neighborhood Centers Inc., a social service agency in Houston that helps more than 250,000 people annually. After working globally with people who had lived through natural disasters, she noticed a pattern many went through while recovering from these catastrophes. The same can be said for people following a cancer diagnosis, divorce, death of a loved one or many other life-changing situations—all bring a feeling of loss, a recognition that things will never be the same. So, in this issue are a number of articles that examine how people have responded to crises and how they have experienced grace and extraordinary generosity from others who have helped them begin to recover and move forward. In the newspaper, Lalor Cadley saw a tsunami victim who became an unknowing icon for prayer (page 11). The Rev. Jimmy Grace finds God manifested in each small success of his son James who has autism (page 18). Jamie Coats learned how grief and wonder intertwine following his sister’s suicide (page 16), and Michele Prince
remembers her son through her Stephen’s ministry (page 14). The symbiotic relationship between wellness and faith is underscored by articles on St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital in a profile on page 30 and the work of Episcopal Health Charities on page 28. This relationship is so important that St. Martin’s, Houston, is building The Hope and Healing Center to provide resources for families and individuals at all stages of life to reclaim peace of mind and sound emotional, mental, physical and spiritual health. Read more in the Rev. Russell Levenson’s article on page 20. Lindsay Hardin Freeman wrestled with a breast cancer diagnosis until Jesus calmed the sea for her, literally. The staff at Ubi Caritas in Beaumont help to carry the burdens of many of the patients they see, bringing Christ’s love to a hurting world. These stories and many more are online this month at www.epicenter.org/comm. Crises and natural disasters can be defined by what they reveal, in us and in others. When something significant is lost, many times it paves the way for profound change. That change begins with the first new question we ask ourselves. What questions do you ask at the twists and turns of your life? What graceful moments have you experienced when profound adversity caused you to head in an unforeseen direction? Let us hear from you at www. facebook.com/TexasDiocese or email me at cbarnwell@ epicenter.org. Blessings,
Carol E. Barnwell
Editor
cbarnwell@epicenter.org
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THE GENERAL CONVENTION
Photo: Gus Salinnas
of the Episcopal Church
Up-To-The-Minute Coverage at www.epicenter.org
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A L CONV ER E EN
N • 2012 • TIO N
COLLABORATION WITH POET HELPS DEACON THROUGH GRIEF
IN
DIA
NAPOL
IS
The Rev. Senitila McKinley turned to painting and poetry as a way to work through her grief after her husband passed away. Read more at tinyurl.com/ sweetgrief
July 5–12, 2012 • Indianapolis, Indiana
COMMENTARY: YOUNG OCCUPIERS ARE VICTIMS OF “BAIT AND SWITCH” The Rt. Rev. George Packard has been a voice within the Episcopal Church for the Occupy movement. He argues young people especially need our prayers. Read more at tinyurl.com/studentsdebt
Caroline Ratliff
edot gallery Features Episcopal Artist
UBI CARITAS: HELPING TO CARRY ANOTHER’S BURDEN Lauren Rahe, medical office manager, tells the story of how Ubi Caritas helps others in their time of need. Read more at tinyurl.com/ubicaritas2
Caroline Ratliff Through June 30 EDOT Gallery is located in the Diocesan Center in downtown Houston and is open from 9-5, M-F. Call 713.520.6444 for group tours.
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FAITH & HEALING
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THE WOUNDS OF HEALING GRACE by the Rt. Rev. C. Andrew Doyle “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified … that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God” (I Cor 2:2, 5) These words of Paul speak to the importance of being with one another in our woundedness. Human beings harbor real woundedness inside their souls, just as they experience physical wounds in their bodies. Often times the physical wound is easier to deal with. It is real, visible and clearly in need of healing. Our response to this physical illness or brokenness is compassion. Somehow it is easier to be sympathetic and empathetic with the visible injury. Yet psychological and spiritual woundedness is no less real. While it is difficult to hide our physical manifestations of illness we humans are experts in hiding our psycho/spiritual
woundedness. As with a more physical wound, the spiritual wound is just as in need of the healing balm of Gilead. Jesus taught us to be present to both kinds of woundedness. He dealt with the woman at the well, and he dealt with the man at the pool of Siloam. His own suffering of psychological shame at the hands of the soldiers and then his physical suffering that ended upon the cross are images of his compassion for both conditions and the nature of human suffering. Archbishop Rowan Williams reminds us, “To want to escape the ‘nigh’ and the costly struggles with doubt and vacuity is to seek another God from the one who speaks in and as Jesus crucified. Crux probat omnia. There is no other touchstone.” (Wound of Knowledge, p. 191) It is only in being in a
mature Christian community with one another that we discover the woundedness of the other, and likewise are able to be real with one another. In being our true wounded selves with one another we discover the very real grace of Christ, and we share not only in his suffering but in his deliverance. In being our true wounded selves, we discover Christ’s love despite our wounds and are therefore able to love others. The stories in this issue speak to us of healing. They speak to us of the discovery of the wounds internally and externally through which we are able (miraculously) to receive grace from God and from one another. The wounds of healing grace are those wherein we discover what it means to be mortal and human, and also what it means to be loved by God and one another.
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FAITH AND HEALING
HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN by Angela Blanchard
“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” —Leonard Cohen
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About seven years ago I began collecting stories from people who survived disasters. I began to notice that the wisdom and deep learning that resulted from these cataclysmic events had relevance not just for Category 4 hurricanes but for all the storms that make landfall in our lives – financial loss, illness, divorce, death. What is most precious to us is often what we can least control; and when the real winds of destruction start to blow through our lives, we begin by being frightened, angry and lost. As I listened to those who survived, it became evident there are discernable stages—identifiable milestones on this journey from disaster to a new beginning. Their wisdom reminds us that many have made this trip, confronted these questions,
know we cannot stay there, that what has happened must be faced. But first we need that refuge. We may be troubled by a sense of unreality as we try to grasp the enormity of our situation.
done this work and made a way out of no way at all.
UPHEAVAL
SURVIVAL When our world is turned upside down, our view of the world shrinks. Our gaze is constricted and our questions are intensely focused. Am I okay? Am I still here? Who else survived? Sometimes a life-threatening situation unfolds in slow motion—a medical diagnosis delivered in bits and pieces. Sometimes it happens instantly or we get to watch it roll in off the Gulf of Mexico headed right for us. We brace ourselves, suck in our breath and wait for impact. Once we take our first after-impact breath, we have only two questions: Am I okay? How are the people I love?
SANCTUARY When the immediate danger has passed, the terrible news has sunk in, we feel shaken and relieved. We seek the warmth of human connection, or go inward and connect with our life sustaining energy. Tears of relief and grief come and go. We relive terrible moments. We feel overwhelmed and helpless, and this helplessness is profoundly uncomfortable. We are grateful to be alive, but raw with vulnerability and need. Many times we find sanctuary in a dear friend. Other times we find ourselves depending upon the kindness of strangers, professionals or fellow survivors. Wherever we go for immediate comfort, that shelter is a temporary home. We
It does not help to be told “everything will be okay.” We cannot be reassured at this stage. The best help is patient kindness. Listening. The questions that plague us are: Is it really over? Is this the worst?
We awaken from the numbness that comes from shock. Feeling returns like a leg that has fallen asleep. First a sharp tingling and then it hurts. No matter where we look we see evidence of what was lost. Fragments of our old life intrude. A sudden smell, a glimpse of someone almost like the person we loved. We can easily get lost in this stage. We want not to feel. But if we don’t allow this pain, this mourning, the ground will be barren and there will be no way to plant a new life, imagine a new future, grow a new community. But first we have to clear the debris. After disasters, we tear out walls and sweep out the house, scraping the ground clean for what comes next. Some people do this quickly, some slowly. Movement—one step at a time—is all that’s needed. This stage is physically exhausting. Everything that should be easy is very hard, what is difficult becomes impossible. Our sense of isolation grows. Other people outside of the disaster zone go on living, and our own isolation becomes acutely painful.
LIMBO In this stage, the full magnitude of what has happened becomes clearer. The work of recovery seems more than we can possibly do. There are two beliefs that keep us struggling. One involves the desperate search for normal. Trying to remember and return to what was. Each day shows us we are living in a new world, but we cannot figure what our goal
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should be. The other belief is that this work would be easier “if only.” If only the hospital, doctors, officials, FEMA, or someone would do something different, better, faster, we could move on. We are waiting for someone stronger, smarter and more powerful to arrive to deal with this disaster. But ultimately we must face the fact that the real work is ours to do, no matter what help comes. Although we may appear to be making little progress, limbo really is a time of going inward and adjusting our expectations. It is a time of refilling our reserves, preparing for important choices we must make. We need the company of people who understand. What is most helpful is not external prodding but useful information: the disease trajectory, the length of time to put on a new roof.
RESIGNATION / ACCEPTANCE We come to a fork in the road where we must decide. In one direction is acceptance. Fully recognizing the extent of our loss, we recommit to our beliefs and find meaning in our new journey. In the other direction, resignation, we experience only the loss and see no opportunity ahead. Acceptance comes out of the work we have done to reassess our lives. We believe our radically changed lives have a purpose. We embrace the work of rebuilding our lives. If we have defined a larger purpose, then all that we have endured can come under the umbrella of our faith and purpose. But we can get mired in resentment and blame. Even if the actions of others have caused deeper pain and loss, we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that the work of recovery is still ours to do. This is a profoundly important stage because we come face to face with our one-sided bargains with God. We have worked so hard and sacrificed so much, how could this happen to us? Quite simply, it’s about examining our beliefs about the world and our capacity to live in it as it is. One powerful source of faith and reassurance comes from recognizing that we are on the same journey as millions of others. It is at this stage we rejoin the human race and recognize— though what has happened is profound and significant, we are not alone.
TAKING STOCK Loss of our homes, our possessions, our security. Loss of community, of our imagined future. It is painful to face. But we must take stock for many reasons. In this stage, we 10 |
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learn what we have to work with. We must inventory what can be saved from our old life. We take stock of our tangible resources, even as we examine our inner resources. What are our strengths and skills? What aspects of our character have allowed us to overcome difficulties in the past? We must also take note of gifts that arrive just when we need them. Support and help, knowledge and guidance come from those ahead on the path. And the daily practice of gratitude and noting every moment of grace will sustain us as we build a new future out of our own imagination.
NEW BEGINNING At some point we recognize that we have restarted our lives. We invest ourselves again in a new life, relationship, community or endeavor. Knowing that nothing will ever be the same, we are able to embrace a new way forward. Possibilities emerge that we could never have imagined. Where we felt only grief and loss we now feel hopeful. We notice new internal strengths. This does not come in a flash. And it may surprise us to see we have new reservoirs of joy, friendships that have deepened, new interests, a new respect for our own resiliency and a new relationship with God—gifts borne of our hard work.
A NEW JOURNEY: AWAKENING There is a crack in everything. A levee in every community. Every heart slightly broken. Out of every broken place comes an opportunity to turn struggle into transformation. Much of the time we strive for security. Then one way or another, a crack appears and we are stunned at our powerlessness. We have lived through a real disaster, what we lost is irreplaceable. But we are awakened to ourselves and others, alive to possibilities that are enriching beyond what we might have imagined. We know now that life is really a series of new beginnings, a series of challenges that reveal new dimensions of wisdom borne out of loss. The good news is there are remarkable moments of grace in every journey from brokenness to transformation. The light gets in— illuminating what matters most to us, and our way forward. It may be too much to ask that we welcome these experiences, but not too much that we share them and appreciate them for the gifts they bring into our lives. Blanchard is CEO of Neighborhood Centers Inc. in Houston.
God Was Nowhere and Everywhere by Lalor Cadley
Anyone who has ever felt forsaken by God in a crisis knows how good it is to look back when the crisis is passed, and see how present God was throughout— perhaps not in obvious or immediate ways, but present nonetheless. When asked to share an experience of this faithful love that cloaks itself in mystery, I thought immediately of a time 10 years ago, in the aftermath of a divorce. I had been married for 23 years to a man I loved but with whom I could no longer live in the old way. In the early years of our marriage, while he built his career and I raised the children and ran the household, our differences weren’t so apparent. But when the challenge of living together in the second half of life presented itself, we saw the great distance that had grown up between us. We tried to work things out, but it was no use. Our differences were irreconcilable, and we agreed the only true thing was to part. I moved out, rented an apartment, and was into my second month of living on my own when one day, out of the blue and for no apparent reason, I was struck by a tidal wave of anxiety that shook me to my roots and pulled me down into an underworld inside myself I never knew existed. I couldn’t eat or sleep. Simple tasks like balancing my checkbook or finding my way to a doctor’s office were beyond me. I remained in this state for four months, fighting to keep my head above water, calling out to a God who had promised to protect me and was nowhere to be found.
essential part of my spiritual journey, and that God was with me every step of the way. In the good doctors who tended me, doctors who had more than pills to offer—though the pills did come in mighty handy. In doctors who were willing to meet me not just as a patient but as a person in pain and afraid. In the love of my sister, who would take my calls night or day, in turn soothing and challenging me to visualize a future for myself. “Then go for it.” In the Psalms that became my daily bread. In the prayers of my faith community and the calls, cards, plants, meals, books, talks with friends who saw in me a strength I couldn’t access and held the rope until I had the strength to climb back up. Mother nature was another boundless source of mercy—the birds singing songs at dawn; the rustling of the trees at twilight; the feel of earth beneath my feet as I walked the grounds of a retreat center; my dog, dear Jessie, who never left me all day long and lay beside me through the night. In the ministrations of a skilled spiritual director who saw in my situation both the danger and the opportunity, and never let me doubt that there was meaning in my suffering and one day I would thrive. “You will not be lost.” I could go on and on. It’s over now and I am in a new place. If I am called to die again—and won’t we all be?—I’d like to think I’ll be less tempted to flail around, more willing to sit still and listen for the whisper of love all around me. Cadley is a spiritual director in Atlanta.
To this day I don’t fully understand what happened. But I do know without a doubt that this experience was an
PRAYING SOUL TO SOUL IN THE AFTERMATH In 2005, Lalor Cadley felt compelled to pray for a tsunami victim she saw in the newspaper. She cut out the picture, placed it on her prayer table and began to “kythe” with the unnamed woman. According to Cadley, kything is “slightly different from traditional intercessory prayers that are a part of so many faith traditions. It doesn’t require any elaborate training or special skill, just a loving heart and a desire to care for the world’s people on God’s behalf.” To read more about Cadley’s experience, visit tinyurl.com/ lalorcadley. REUTERS/ASAHI SHIMBUN
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FAITH AND HEALING
Glory in the Midst by Hugh Welsh Ramona Shields was at home recuperating from a round of radiation the afternoon of Sunday, May 22. She’d had a recurrence of breast cancer. Her husband, Hugh, had been away Sunday attending a graduation party and picking up the Rev. Frank Sierra (St. Philip’s rector) and his wife, Debi, from the airport. Ramona had given her husband explicit instructions: “Don’t dillydally; there’s bad weather coming.” When the first siren aired, he wasn’t home yet. Ramona slipped on her shoes, grabbed her purse and pillows and ushered the pets into the newly remodeled bathroom. It was the only room left standing. Ramona didn’t underestimate the initial siren. The sky wasn’t right, and it was deathly quiet. She heard the car door slam shut; Hugh was home. The sirens blared again. Ramona urged Hugh toward the bathroom as he peered out the window. He wanted to see it. “A mass of brownish black.” Ramona stared at the wall; she didn’t dare look at what sounded like an oncoming freight train. The splintering of trees was Hugh’s cue: take cover. Ramona’s ears popped like she was scaling a mountaintop. “I had to swallow twice,” she said. Minutes were hours as the Shieldses’ home came apart around them. “I thought it would never end,” Ramona said. If not for the remodeled bathroom, Ramona and Hugh wouldn’t have survived. The west end of their house was gone, as if the subject of a disappearing act. Block after block of broken homes. Trees, which once insulated one house from another, were no more. Their neighborhood was a debris field. St. John’s Medical Center sat dark; usually, a brief period passed before the emergency generators powered on. Not this night. On the horizon, the blazing St. Mary’s Elementary School looked like a smokestack. Strewn among the ruins nearby was the body of a man who worked at McDonald’s and jogged daily by their house. They veiled
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his remains and prayed. A neighbor was bleeding to death. A family of nine emerged from a closet; they’d clung to their father in the hopes he’d defy the mighty updraft. The able bodied formed search-and-rescue teams, which combed the wreckage for anyone alive. In their yard was half a canoe with the words “serenity” etched onto it. All the while, it was raining. Incessant rain. Most of their neighbors and friends survived. That’s the miracle: most lived. The Shieldses lost their home, their vehicles and all six rental properties they owned in Joplin. Two of their four cats fled in the storm’s wake, never to return. St. Philip’s responded: fellow parishioners volunteered their homes to the Shieldses; and Hugh’s cousin, who lives in Neosho, proffered a car, his 1988 Mercury Marquis. A youth group from Golden City, Missouri salvaged the Shieldses’ World War II memorabilia. Ramona and Hugh took heed in the tale of Job, a believer no matter the circumstances. They adopted a rule: goodwill ought to be paid forward. “The Shieldses are among the most selfless people I’ve ever met,” Sierra said. “They’ll do anything for anybody.” They devoted long hours to fellow Joplinites caught in the twister’s path, whether it was cleaning up or spiritual counsel. They made grocery runs for needy elderly, one of whom suffered vertebrae damage in the storm. They donated land for rebuilding. They fought and won a case of renter’s insurance injustice for a beleaguered neighbor. The neighborhood rebuilding process is underway. Ramona notices a lot of the older homes were left standing. “There’s a difference between a nail that’s hammered in vs. one nailed with a gun,” she said. Homes can be rebuilt and trees planted, but the neighborhood will never be the same. Ramona’s grandparents moved there in 1919, building the house the Shieldses called home in 1921. The trees were like old souls
“For Ramona, it’s about what the twister didn’t take, not what it did.... Miracles rise from adversity.”
Photos: Melodie Woerman
Ramona Shields salvages what she can days after the Joplin tornado destroyed her home.
to her, vanquished. Since July, they’ve lived in a rental house acquired from the parents of children Ramona taught. Ramona happened upon them while at the bank. It’s in the older, unscathed section of town. Every night, she sets food out for her two lost cats, which will likely never return home. For Ramona, it’s about what the
twister didn’t take, not what it did. Her faith never splintered, and her health has taken a turn for the better after six weeks of hives following the tornado. The cancer hasn’t spread. Miracles rise from adversity. She’s heard a lot of survivors say they saw butterflies as the tornado bore down upon them. One story involves a boy playing in the yard when the tornado approached. The boy’s father draped his body over him, clenching the
grass. The twister tore the father’s shoes from his feet; it slashed his clothing and pelted him with flecks of debris. Something kept him anchored. The boy said butterflies held them down. “The Lord does work in our lives all the time,” Ramona said. “His work in Joplin is not done.” The Shieldses are members of St. Philips, Joplin.
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FAITH AND HEALING
Receiving Care Can Be Grace Filled by Michele Prince After my 12-year-old son Will died, I was never afraid to come to church. Some days, I was afraid to go to the bus stop or the grocery store. Most days, I was afraid to go to my son Alex’s school. I felt like there was a flashing neon sign above my head, announcing my bereaved status. But I always felt okay at church, as if the sign were off. I learned right away that you want to be where you find comfort, and you won’t know which places will be comforting until you’re in the thick of grief. Being comforted was a big part of my process of receiving care during Will’s illness as well. My husband Brice and I let everyone know about his cancer and became open to accepting care from many people in many different ways. Part of it was practical; we needed help with the parts of our lives that didn’t involve being in the hospital with Will. Part of it was emotional and spiritual; we needed love, support and prayers. Will’s cancer was a life-changer for sure, whether he went into remission and recovered or not. Some people might shut down and circle the wagons—I called for reinforcements.
the past when people spoke of being “held up in prayer,” I hadn’t given it much thought. Now I knew what it meant. Literally, I felt held up. Not as if I were falling and people were supporting me from behind, but as if I were being pushed closer to God by the hands of so many. The feeling was intense during Will’s illness, and though it has since passed, I still carry a sense of it with me each day. At one point, I remember that Will asked us, “Why are all these people being so nice to me? Why are they doing all these things for us?” As I explained to him and Alex, this is what you do when something bad happens to someone in your community; this is how you show you care. When you can’t provide the cure, you provide the care that eases the burden of those who suffer. After Will’s funeral in April 2009, I felt like I had a very real and immediate choice to make—stay open and connected or shut down. Will and I had talked a lot about what was in his or our control and what was not. During that first spring without him, I thought about the same idea. If I spent my time asking “Why?” I suspected I would become angry and resentful. There will be no answer to that question in my lifetime. Instead I have tried to focus (not always successfully) on “What now?” in the hope that I can stay connected to my family and friends and be open to all the love that is still around me.
Our church gave us care in a myriad of ways from the minute one of the priests showed up at Will’s bedside on Sunday, Dec. 7, 2008, less than 24 hours after he was admitted to the hospital. We had learned the night before that doctors suspected the mass in his chest was lymphoma. Because it was a weekend, we’d barely begun the I don’t think my reaction was unique; I just needed conversations about staging, surgery and treatment plans. to find the right thing for me to do. Will was kind and But Rose was there with a smile and kind words of comfort. generous, but he went about things quietly and gently. To There were cards from both boys’ Sunday School classes, a me, he epitomizes Wordsworth’s lines from “Tintern Abbey” moving prayer service with my Mothers’ Group friends just “that best portion of a good man’s life,/ His little, nameless, before Christmas, dinners left on our porch, cards in the unremembered acts/ Of kindness and of love.” I wanted to mail, a special Ash Wednesday visit from our rector, and a find something to do that would complement my strengths thoughtful bookmark for parishioners to use in prayer and but also be consistent with Will’s way of living. to access our CaringBridge site. These concrete acts and As I moved back into the routine of my life after Will’s gestures were very meaningful and helpful, especially in the long hospitalization and death—making dinner again, early days of adjusting to our life in the hospital. taking Alex to soccer practice, getting back into the rhythm For me, spiritual things were happening as well. In of my part-time job for a medical journal—I thought often 14 |
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Michelle Prince and her son Will.
about how I could be a source of comfort to others in the wake of my own family crisis. I continued to show up at church week after week because I found comfort there and because I wanted Alex’s connection with the church to grow as well. I knew there were lots of activities at church, but I wasn’t sure which would be right for me. I was in a holding pattern, watching and waiting for something to come my way. One Sunday last January I heard an announcement about the Stephen Ministry program. I got that funny feeling I get when something I’m supposed to do is being revealed. After I completed the forms, I learned that six people were needed to hold the training and mine was the sixth application. Another reinforcement that I was doing the right thing. The Stephen Ministry classes
Photo: Brice Prince
included 50 hours of training, so I spent many evenings at church with the other trainees and a number of Stephen leaders. It was an amazing experience. I met new people and the classes were thought-provoking. My master’s degree program included courses in areas covered in the Stephen Ministry materials, so the ideas were familiar. But framing them in terms of Christian caregiving was new. Beyond that, my experience in receiving care reinforced for me the value of being a caring presence for others. Now I am part of a powerful nationwide— ministry. I hope that I will be a source of comfort for others in our parish who need it. Care receiving means being open to having another person in your life at your most vulnerable times and fragile places. Caregiving means being with the other person wherever they are—vulnerable and fragile. God’s
grace allows this miracle of human connection, but we have to be open to the process. My son let this happen every day of his illness. While it was obvious that Will was a receiver of care from many, especially as his illness progressed, I was witness to him as a giver of care as well. He thanked everyone who left his room, even after painful or humiliating medical treatments. He considered others’ feelings, even while in pain or discomfort. He made connections with nurses and doctors and other hospital staff, even when he was desperate to go home. So with his example as my guide, I am moving forward in this new life I didn’t plan for, trying to be open to both receiving and giving care. Prince is a member of St. Columba’s, Washington, D.C. Her story first appeared in the church’s newsletter and is reprinted here with permission. Diolog
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FAITH AND HEALING Emma Coats with her niece Alexandra.
GRIEF & WONDER TRILOGY: WONDER? WONDER, WONDERFUL by Jamie Coats In 2010 my kind, 49-year-old sister, Emma, killed herself. Just before I flew from Boston to England to organize the cremation and remembrance services, Brother Curtis called me. I work for a religious order of Episcopal monks, the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, and Curtis had been my boss for four years. He said, “I have been praying for a word for you to take with you, the word ‘wonder’ keeps coming to me.” I thanked him, feeling it would be a long time before I ever felt wonder again. The year before Emma died she wrote a long poem that described a detailed walk through a wood in Devon, England. After the services I went with seven of Emma’s friends, my ex-wife and my 10-year-old daughter to Devon. We read the poem and figured out where Emma had been when she wrote every verse. At one point my daughter called out, “Daddy, how much more of the poem have we got to go?” And I began to feel wonder again. Were we in the woods or in the poem?
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The next day, on what would have been Emma’s 50th birthday, we gathered where she had described sitting on a mossy seat at the river’s edge. We read the whole poem, then friends produced poems and read them. I waded into the river and poured Emma’s ashes into the river, into her poem. At that moment I was flooded with wonder. The “Grief & Wonder Trilogy” revolves around this moment of pouring my sister’s ashes into the greater cycle of love and of accepting the outpouring of love that I received from friends and strangers that holds me to this day. You can read about Emma, her friends’ love for her and see some of her art at emmacoats.wordpress.com, and you can read some of my writings at wingedboots.com. The SSJE Brothers give out words every day to help us all at ssje.org/ word. Coats is the director of Friends of The Society of Saint John the Evangelist, Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA
Wonderful Wonder? edy. We all have trag Will it hold us on And we pass it
O
Tragically? Or can we let us ur friends hold
n tragedy So hold our ow like ash And then let it stream Spread into the e cycle Returning to th Of a greater love wonder? And experience
There is nothing more wonderful Than to have ones way Blocked by an angel, Holding a gift from God A practice when received Let’s us feel God’s love. Blind We bump into the angel. “Get out of my way” But the angel does not move If we fight we lose like Jacob If we turn the angel moves around. Fear comes to attack But sees a man confronted by an angel Receiving a gift from God. Fear can not confront As the angel is in the way
ounding Tiger B , er d n o W , er d n o W
a tiger Awoke to find By my bedside. your day “Resolve to pray sister. I’m from your ve you courage I am here to gi d to have.” No fear you nee asks eep well?” she “At night you sl mes my reply. der my bed,” co n u s lie at h w “I fear says, She nuzzles me, demon lines “My eyes catch th. dark undernea In the swirling d them tight.? I catch and hol
And its wings wrap the man in love. He lets the angel Place his broken heart In a nest of feathered love Where broken pieces come To lie and heal To rest in wonder, And the Angel says, “Know in your church of friends You can place your hurt heart on the altar And know there will be no hole in your chest But a space filled with the heart That God gave Jesus.”
www.wingedboots.com Diolog
| 17 | JUNE 2012
PERFECT IN EVERY WAY by the Rev. Jimmy Grace
James Grace contemplates a butterfly.
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Photo: Andrew Kuhn
The other day I was riding down a street in our neighborhood on a bike next to my sixyear-old son, who had just learned to ride a two-wheel “big boy bike” all by himself. Riding down the street, the two of us smiled as the wind blew past our faces. This was certainly not an unusual sight in our neighborhood—but it was for me. I never thought my son would ever ride a bike. My son, James, has autism. Autism for James means that his challenges involve those things that we take for granted daily—conversation, eye contact, concentration, empathy. For James’ first four years, he spoke very little, and my wife Marla and wondered if he would ever speak. Speech has come for James, thanks to a lot of early intervention and schooling. His curiosity about the world never ceases to surprise me. It is remarkable to me how far James has come in only the first six years of his life. Before he was born, my wife and I went in for a twenty-week ultrasound to learn if we were going to have a boy or girl. During the ultrasound, the radiologist spent what seemed to us a lot of time looking at James— especially his brain. As I remember that day, another doctor came in and examined the images on the screen, and then began to explain to us what we already knew: something was not right. A part of James’ brain called the cerebellar vermis, the doctor explained, was below the average size of a typical child’s cerebellar vermis at this point. Although the doctor was unable to tell us to what extent this might affect him, both my wife and I were absolutely devastated at
JOURNEY TO WHOLENESS the news. The vision of a perfect birth of our first-born immediately was snatched from our midst that day, replaced with a hollow anxiety and dread to fill a now empty space. I remember days later at some point we were counseled to consider abortion. At this time I was finishing my final semester of seminary, and it is hard to remember a time when I felt more alone and frightened. I prayed. Our community at seminary came over on Monday evenings to our home and they prayed with us and for us and James. It was odd that during a time of great anxiety and chaos that I felt so comforted by the Holy Spirit in a way that I never had before. Something beyond all reason informed me that all things would be well. James was born a week or so after I graduated seminary, and soon after we moved back to Houston to begin work at Epiphany, Houston. Since then we have welcomed two other boys into our family, both of whom are typically developing (i.e., rambunctious!). I have heard it said before that there is no such thing as a blessing without some blood being shed. I believe that to be true. In many ways James has blessed my life—he has certainly taught me more about love, humility and the nature of God than any priest, bishop, or seminary professor. James’ entry into my life forced my heart to break and open in uncomfortable ways. But as I think about this experience, I wonder about God. It wouldn’t surprise me if God has autism. Or Down Syndrome. Or multiple sclerosis. James is a sacrament of a paradox I was unaware of until his birth—that disability often seems to be God’s greatest strength. Grace is canon for Christian formation at Christ Church Cathedral, Houston.
by Larry E. Simons and Carmen DiNino Alspach, LPC, LCDC
Journey to Wholeness offers a road map for your life, focusing on hope and faith. Learn how to rise above the worst tragedies of your life, and start to heal your broken heart. Now available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and at your favorite bookseller.
On November 14, 2007, my world shattered. My precious daughter Cammie committed suicide. I could not function. I thought her death might kill me. In our book Journey to Wholeness my therapist and I write about my journey back. By working through the grief, by doing the hard work that it takes to return to wholeness, I have become a different person. I am able to look at life in a totally different way. My values have changed. My character has changed. My priorities have changed. At first I was angry at God because Cammie was taken away, but out of my great grief I came to an understanding that life is a gift. I now understand that everything in life is a gift, and I am only a steward. Cammie was an incredible gift. God graciously gave her to me for a season, but I never possessed her, she was a gift. I came to a point of great gratitude in my life. I am now able to give thanks to God for sharing her with me and allowing me to be her earthly father. She has returned to the loving arms of her heavenly Father, and I know I will see her again. Simons is a member of St. Matthew’s Austin. VETERANS PROVIDE LESSON IN FAITH Carmen DiNino Alspach is a psychologist who works with veterans after they return from active duty. Read more at tinyurl.com/vetsfaith
Diolog
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FAITH AND HEALING
Hope and Healing by the Rev. Russell Levenson, Jr. When James wrote his epistle to the early Christians, one of his concerns was that they had become a bit too focused on the soul, over and above the day-to-day needs of those around them. “What good is it ... if one claims to have faith, but has no deeds? ... Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, ‘Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” (James 2:14). This verse alone has been the inspiration for many of the outreach initiatives of the Church and certainly many within the diocese. But it was not just the needs of the body, but the overall health and wholeness of the body to which Jesus extended his ministry of healing and hope. His desire was that our love for God would extend from heart ... soul ... mind and strength, (Mark 12:28-31; Matthew 22:34-40). But it is difficult to love with these facets of human life if one, or all, are in some way in need of healing. No doubt, that is why we see Jesus sometimes focusing his healing ministry upon the soul, other times upon the mind, still others the emotions, and often last comes the body—as he often showed that physical sickness can have its roots in the unphysical or metaphysical aspects of our human nature. The world of science and medicine is increasingly recognizing the connection between overall health and the experience of faith. The Church, however, has been a bit slow to respond with an equal connection or receptivity. One might wonder if James’ message speaks to the Church of the 21st Century. Our pews are filled with people not just with hungry souls, but with brokenness as it is experienced in every age of the life cycle affecting every facet of human life. For instance, one in eight people is addicted to drugs or alcohol, and 40 percent of those have a dual diagnosis where their addiction is connected to a mental or nervous disorder.1 The average age today when a youth tries alcohol is between
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11 and 13, and the average age when Americans begin drinking is 15. Teens who begin drinking before age 15 are five times more likely to develop alcohol dependence than those who begin at age 21. Two of the leading causes of death related to persons between the ages of 15 and 24 are automobile accidents and suicide—and alcohol is the leading factor in both.2 Depression continues to be a growing problem in our modern culture. Seven percent of people suffer depression after the age of 18; one out of every 33 children and one out of every eight adolescents. Suicide is the third leading cause of death for those between the ages of 10 and 24.3 25 percent of all cancer patients experience depression; one-third of all heart attack survivors and half of all Parkinson’s patients experience depression. By 2020, depression will be the second most common health problem in the world.4 We all know that married couples have a hard time staying together. About half end in divorce in America; 67 percent of all second marriages and 74 percent of all third also fail. One half of American children will see the breakup of their parents’ marriage—40 percent of U.S. children today are being raised without a father.5 Children from broken families are nearly five times more likely to suffer damaging mental troubles than those whose parents stay together. Family studies author Patricia Morgan says, “Broken families … produce homes full of conflict and chaos and they are terrible for children …”6 The breaking apart of families because of divorce—as they have to do sometimes for the better of all—does not diminish the impact in the overall mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health of family members who need support and care after the divorce. I have worked in the Church for well over two decades now, and I confess that while we have often led the way in
Ministry to Body, Mind, Heart and Soul helping people “pick up the pieces,” (recovery and support groups, for instance) we have not been leaders in providing preventative care, education and insight in providing the building blocks for a comprehensive understanding of what it means to live a healthy life. One may be healthy in heart and soul, but sick in mind and body; and vice versa—one sick place, often, if not always, impacts the others. This challenge was one of the embryonic wombs that has brought to life St. Martin’s new Hope and Healing Center, (HHC). An outgrowth of a year-long study of the membership of St. Martin’s was the clear desire to increasingly be known as a parish the helps those “broken by life’s
circumstances.” St. Martin’s appointed Dr. Scott Basinger as the Founding Director of the HHC and its teaching companion, the Hope and Healing Institute (HHI). A nationally recognized leader in issues of recovery and mental health, Basinger believes the HHI “will draw on experts in psychology and counseling to offer seminars, speaking engagements and programs, as well as to author articles for Chrysalis, its quarterly journal.” The more than 13,000-square-foot, state-of-the-art facility includes classrooms, offices and recovery meeting rooms, as well as a teaching auditorium that can seat more than 100 people. Finally, an exterior meditation garden is also
being designed as an integral part of the Center. Scheduled to open in the fall of 2012, the HHC will immediately house more than a dozen recovery and support groups that already regularly meet at St. Martin’s. In addition, it will begin to spread its ministry across the city of Houston and the greater diocese through a wide variety of seminars and workshops that fulfill its mission of offering hope and healing to those making their way through the river of life. Levenson is rector of St. Martin’s, Houston. For more information on the HHC or HHI, visit www. hopeandhealingcenter.org.
U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. U S Department of Health and Human Services, The Surgeon General’s Call to Action to Prevention and Reduce Underage Drinking, Office of the Surgeon General, 2007. 3 DepressionHelpSpot.com, 2006-2011. 4 Ibid. 5 Forest Institute of Professional Psychology, Springfield, Mo. 6 Steve Doughty, “Broken Home Children,” UK Online, 21 October, 2008. Diolog | 21 | JUNE 2012 1
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PROFILE: LUMINARY
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Fire Opens Possibilities Mark Gwin is a member of Calvary, Bastrop. He joined fellow firefighters last year to help bring a historic wildfire under control. Gwin’s family has experienced a number of changes in the last months as well as profound grace. Mark Gwin
make it impossible to give up. I’m currently assistant editor at the Austin American-Statesman.
CEB: Many people in the Episcopal Church didn’t start there. Where does your faith story begin?
MG: I was actually baptized in the Episcopal Church, but raised Catholic. I backed away from organized religion, though I kept some curiosity and fundamental belief about spirituality and the validity of all religions so long as they pointed to kindness, respect and thankfulness. I sometimes attended church, particularly when I was with my family and after my wife and I were married (a fun ceremony—there were three celebrants —an Episcopal priest, a Catholic monseigneur and a Grade-A hippie). We knew we wanted to raise our children in a community of faith and when Jennifer joined the choir at Calvary Episcopal Church in Bastrop, I slowly began attending services. These days I feel like something is missing if I miss Mother Lisa’s (Hines) sermon, trying to listen while corralling the children. Mother Lisa has been an incredible inspiration to me, and this was true well before the fire. Her calmness and grace gave me the freedom to explore
CEB: Can you give us a brief snapshot of Mark Gwin?
the church and its teachings and I was confirmed in February of this year.
MG: I grew up in San Antonio and have been fortunate in
CEB: As a child, was there someone who helped to shape
both upbringing and circumstance. I’ve hiked, hitchhiked,
your faith?
hopped a freight train, lived off my bicycle and lived on the streets for the joy and freedom of it all. I worked odd jobs along the way but that began to change when I met my Jennifer. We married and have been blessed with three beautiful boys—Oliver, 5; Lincoln, 3; and Forest, 1. They are the biggest challenge I have ever faced, but they have also carried our family through many tough patches—they
MG: I was fortunate growing up in that my family lived close to my mother’s parents. Every Saturday night we had the same ritual — we would go to five o’clock mass, then go to Luby’s for dinner where I would order tapioca pudding to be just like my grandfather McD. After church, my sister and I would get to go spend the night with them and our
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| 23 | JUNE 2012
parents would pick us up on Sunday. It was a very
and keepsakes (though we forgot most of them)
comforting, very safe space, and that regularity
—and went to the cars. As we rounded a sharp
and fun forged a positive association deep in my
turning in our driveway to a clearing, we could
heart, not only for church but also for family.
see the huge pillar of smoke and flames right
CEB: You are a volunteer fire fighter in Bastrop.
there.
How did that come about?
MG: Remembering how we came to Bastrop makes it easier to feel adrift since the fire. My wife and I scoured South Central Texas for suitable farmland to rent. We would stop in small towns and pick up a newspaper and go through the listings and we found the perfect place in between Smithville and Bastrop—within six months I was working at The Times. Smithville is where I learned about community. Having grown up in a big town, I wasn’t prepared for the depth of involvement and caring that are
neighbors. I was panicked, in a hurry—the fire was right there—and it was then I made my worst mistake. I went to each house, honking and yelling like mad. I saw two dogs looking at me, but I was already out of the driveway and onto the next house before I thought about getting them. They died in that fire because I was too hurried, too panicked. I can still remember those two faces looking at me from behind the fence. I was still tired, but I did what I could with fellow firefighters. When you are faced with a
place, and I learned more from that town than
wall of fire more than 30 feet tall, rolling through
any school I ever went to. I became a volunteer
the trees at whim, you just watch in awe and
firefighter because that’s what guys (and girls)
disbelief. You can count on a fire to “lie down” a
like—cool machines, fires, adventures, etc. The
little at night. This one didn’t. Not Sunday night.
fire department is an extended family, and one
Not Monday night. It had a forest of yaupon,
of the funniest and wackiest ones I’ve ever had.
pines and cedar—dried and dead from the
I’ve never been around such a diverse group of
drought—as a huge fuel. I was a firefighter, so I was spared the agony
well.
that 1,600 families faced, wondering for weeks if
CEB: What was your personal experience with
their home was gone. I suspected mine was gone
last fall’s wildfires, can you share how you first heard about the fire, what you did immediately, what it was like at the height of the fire?
MG: When the first fire call came, I was asleep. Just that morning I had finished the 100-mile canoe/kayak race along the Colorado River and needed to recover from 25 hours of near-
as we drove away Sunday, and I walked through a decimated forest to our land on Monday morning. There was nothing left. Not just for me—every neighbor on our street had lost their home. It was an odd sensation—just confirming the expected, and more in awe at the power and ferocity of the power than anything else.
constant paddling so I looked at the page and left
CEB: How did you manage through those first
it to my fellow volunteers.
weeks after the disaster? What kept you going?
A second page came, and my wife and
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in San Antonio while I went to evacuate
everywhere you turn in that town. It’s an amazing
people/ideas that still managed to function so
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Jennifer took the boys to the grandparents
MG: Keeping busy—both with the fire
I went outside where we could see the smoke
department and the newspapers—was helpful,
overhead, and the sun was a deep orange, like
trying to focus on the task at hand. I also learned
at sunset. Then we noticed a light raining of
the wonderful fact that our church is always
ash. We live at the end of a dead end road so we
unlocked. I had so many responsibilities that
packed some necessities, diapers, a few clothes
I wasn’t able to be with my fellow parishioners
during that time, but I would go
home to put the boys to bed, let alone
disaster change?
into the church from time to time. I
eat dinner with them.
MG: It seems too early to know how
would pray, sing the doxology, fall on my knees and cry. It was extremely
The loss of both home and job
the disaster changed me. I know our
in the community has made the world
circumstances have changed, but I can’t
seem wide. Our options seem so much
pretend I’ve arrived at any newfound
more vast. We have more questions
wisdom. It has opened my eyes to the
so we’re just praying for patience and
kindness of humanity, however. Having
clarity and giving ourselves a year to
been treated so kindly by so many, both
mull it all over. We call it our 20-minute
friends and strangers, it makes it easy
lifestyle because every 20 minutes we
to laugh at moments of despondency.
their safety, made it easy to
have a new idea of our family’s future.
You can’t cure everything with a bit
compartmentalize the loss as a material
It’s liberating but scary because we don’t
of perspective, but it helps you not
one. I put two years of love into
yet feel called in any one direction—just
take yourself too seriously, which is
building that home with my own hands,
lured and dizzy by the thoughts of a
important during a time like this. Our
but the love is still there. That it’s gone
million different directions.
losses are so small, our abundance
is hard, but that the love among our
CEB: In the months following,
so overwhelming, particularly in
cathartic, to be there and experience your small suffering in the home of the great redemptive suffering of Jesus Christ. I was free to weep, but also set free from the need to dwell in pity. Obviously my family, and
family has been blessed with additional time together makes everything else pale in comparison.
how did your relationships with your neighbors/friends change or alter as a result of the disaster?
comparison to those outside of our country, it has helped me to pray in thankfulness and pray for others to find, if not material comfort, at least
CEB: I understand you faced a job
MG: In a large sense I’ve become
change in the midst of this disaster.
extremely isolated from the friends and
That must have been salt to the wound.
neighbors I had before and just after
How did that compounded challenge
the fire. Our newspapers were a family,
affect you?
and I rarely see my former co-workers.
you?
MG: It’s funny, but the loss of our
Because I work so late and our rental
MG: Helping others is easy—virtue
house is so far away from our old home,
is its own reward, so long as you are
I don’t see my fellow firefighters much
helping by doing something that you
anymore. We still travel into Bastrop
enjoy, which was the case in both
most every Sunday for church, which
writing about the fire and fighting
has helped anchor us. And occasionally
the fire. It was a once-in-a-lifetime
we go out to our neighborhood to see
experience and I don’t want to sum
the land and visit with our neighbors.
it up as good or bad. It was both—
It’s pretty amazing—they are all
God stretched us, took us down into
rebuilding—some have already moved
loss and confusion and lifted us into
in. Part of me is very envious of that
the abundance of human kindness.
certainty. I have new friends at work,
They are both hard to believe—the
but my main focus is trying to spend
destruction wrought by the fire and
what time I do have with our family.
the overflowing of grace and kindness.
The boys are the best entertainment
I’m sad, sometimes floored, by what
ever, even if they aren’t always the most
happened, but I don’t want to regret it. I
relaxing.
want to be in awe.
home has been less disruptive than the reassignment from my the newspaper company about a month after the fire. I lived and worked in the communities I loved, publishing the Bastrop and Smithville newspapers. I could walk my son to school, pick him up in the afternoon and be home for dinner most every night. I was fortunate to get a job at the Austin American-Statesman, and I’ve had a blast. Newspaper people remind me of firefighters – ragtag, wicked smart, suspicious of everything but with an upbeat attitude. It’s an amazing and vibrant newsroom. But it’s also a daily newspaper with late deadlines. Rare indeed are the nights when I make it
God’s peace.
CEB: Did you find it different helping others and having others offer to help
CEB: How did the experience change you? Did your perception of the
Diolog
| 25 | JUNE 2012
PROFILE: THE ARTS
Houston’s Homeless Tap Their Artistic Talents by Luke Blount
On the third Saturday of each month, Houston’s homeless men
creativity,” said Coley Jones, who has taught the class since its
and women leave the streets to become artists for a day. Christ
inception in the summer of 2009. “People really enjoy their ability
Church Cathedral’s homeless day center, The Beacon, serves as
to sit down in a peaceful, relaxing environment and just express
a monthly meeting space for the Marnoble Art Project, an art
themselves.”
therapy class for the homeless. Typically, 10–15 people attend the class to gain a sense of peace through a catharsis on canvas. “It is really just a release of emotion and imagination and
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Lemuel Richardson
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The Marnoble Art Project began as a temporary project for 17-year-old Victoria Noble’s Girl Scout Gold Award. Noble found Jones, who was a volunteer coordinator at The Beacon, and the
Photos: Luke Blount
two planned a single program combining art and breakfast. Noble’s aunt, Chris Noble, offered to sponsor a permanent program, naming it after her computer business, Marnoble Computer Sales & Services, Inc. The decision to continue the class was simple, Jones said. “Chris and I were standing to the side with tears in our eyes and she said, ‘If someone would teach this, I would fund it.’ And I said, ‘Well, if someone would fund it, I would teach it.’” Jones is now an independent professional organizer, but she is also an artist with a degree in psychology. Since 2009, she has worked with other volunteers to facilitate the class using different mediums, including acrylics, oils and paper collages. To raise additional funds for supplies, the artists are given the option to donate their works to be sold anonymously or with attribution. The class means something different to every individual, and Jones noted that some projects have a tendency to spark an emotional reaction in herself as well as the homeless artists. “I really love this and art in general,” she said. “It teaches me as much as it teaches them.” When Diolog visited in March, Jones
Lemuel Richardson, has been living on the streets since 2008. “When you are out here, you’re just trying to keep your mind from going insane with what’s around you,” he said as he painted a shamrock. Richardson likes to create art as well as write, but he doesn’t carry a journal. If he writes, he just throws it away. “These people will dig in your stuff,” he said. “They’ll steal whatever
began the class by laying out the ground
is not nailed down as soon as you turn your
rules for about a dozen participants. “There
head the wrong way.”
are only two rules in this class,” she said. “One: be positive. Two: don’t be negative.” In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, the artists
Richardson, like many of the other artists, once had a stable life. He was an Air Force electrician, but a series of unfortunate
had to paint in monochrome. They were
events landed him on the streets. As a kid,
given only green paint along with black
he loved comic books and taught himself
and white. Soothing music played in the
how to draw, and as an adult, he took art
background as the artists created original
classes.
paintings. Some painted abstract pieces and others worked on St. Patrick’s Day themes. One of the regular participants,
“Now I’m trying to do my best to get a meal from day to day,” he said. “(Being on the streets) teaches you a lot about life. One
thing it teaches you about is the love of God.” But Richardson doesn’t go to a church. “I just read the book. It’s about the relationship with him,” he said as he pointed skyward. “It’s not about other people. People will forsake you. It says in the Bible that a mother will forget her own suckling child.” He paused for a second before adding, “I don’t depend on people.” Another artist, Kelly Brown, visited for the first time and expressed her enthusiasm about returning. She also participates in poetry readings around town, reciting her original works. During the art class, she painted a picture of a tree with dollar signs all around and the word “money” written underneath. “This one is called ‘money is on the way,’” she said. “It’s the power of positive thinking.”
To view more paintings from the Marnoble Art Project visit tinyurl.com/marnoble. Diolog
| 27 | JUNE 2012
PROFILE: ADVOCACY
Web Portal Fills Information Gap in Medical Care Dr. Aijiz Ali Khowaja of the Ibn Sina Foundation was sitting in his office on Bissonnet when he heard a banging on the front door. It was a young mother—in her late teens or early 20s—crying as she held her small, sick son and begged for someone to help him. She said she was referred to the Foundation’s community medical clinic from an area hospital through Project Safety Net (PSN), an interactive Web portal designed by St. Luke’s Episcopal Health Charities that provides free healthcare access information. This young mother had only enough money to take a bus to the corporate office, not the clinic, so a staff member drove her and her child to the clinic, where the child received quality care at no cost. Another staff member helped them get home. The Charities has provided grant funding for the Ibn Sina Foundation
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Community Medical Clinic, which is one of the only healthcare centers in Houston that offers comprehensive medical care to uninsured families. Project Safety Net has led more than 1,000 patients to this clinic.
“We are so grateful to St. Luke’s for its funding and partnership throughout the years,” Khowaja said. “And we’re thankful (to the Charities and PSN) for its presence and commitment to serve low-income, uninsured patients.”
Photo: LaShane K. Eaglin
Project Safety Net allows health planners to layer safety net locations over sub-county maps that show the uninsured population. This uninsured data resource was developed by the Charities through a unique estimation model. Together, these tools enable planners to prioritize and identify, with greater specificity, underserved areas where there is insufficient capacity and to determine expansion potential. Currently, the PSN portal provides a comprehensive list of primary care physicians at community-based health clinics within the greater Houston area. The clinics include city and county health clinics, faith-based and school-based clinics and Federally Qualified Healthcare Centers. The clinics offer health services to underinsured or uninsured patients and Medicaid, Medicare or CHIP enrollees. The Charities, in collaboration with the Texas A&M
Health Science Center, School of Rural Public Health, is working to expand PSN to the 57 counties in the Episcopal Diocese of Texas, and philanthropy will be needed to make that happen. “As the Charities’ vision continues to evolve in innovative ways consistent with the original mission, our philanthropic partners will play a vital role in our efforts to improve the health and healthcare of the nation’s most vulnerable populations,” said Patricia Gail Bray, PhD, executive director of the Charities. “The expansion of Project Safety Net throughout the Diocese will allow us to help even more of the state’s underserved, giving them access to convenient and affordable care they might not otherwise have known about.” For more information on PSN, visit www.slehc.org.
Diolog
| 29 | JUNE 2012
PROFILE: CONGREGATION
Faithful, Loving Care Walking through the doors of a St. Luke’s Episcopal Health
and today includes St. Luke’s The Woodlands Hospital, Lakeside
System clinic or hospital, one realizes a vision that originated
Hospital, St. Luke’s Sugar Land Hospital and, more recently, St.
more than 60 years ago. When a small group of Houston
Luke’s Hospital at the Vintage in Northwest Houston as well as St.
physicians and community leaders approached Bishop Clinton
Luke’s Patients Medical Center in Pasadena. Each facility shares a
Quin, they proposed a facility that would be an Episcopal
common commitment to outstanding, compassionate patient care
hospital focused on the patient’s physical, emotional and
and the healing power of faith.
spiritual needs. In 1954, St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital opened its doors in the
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Although St. Luke’s has grown, it has retained the original belief that a hospital should care for all of God’s children—body,
heart of the small but growing Texas Medical Center. What started
mind and spirit. Chaplains are integral members of the St. Luke’s
as a 180-bed nonprofit general hospital has grown into a health
clinical care teams. These skilled professionals allow every
system—a comprehensive network of hospitals and area clinics.
patient and family member to draw on their beliefs for strength
The system expanded from the single location in central Houston
and support. There also are chapels throughout the system that
epicenter.org
Photo: Gustavo M. Salinas
welcome patients of all faiths. While these
accompanied the donor to the operating
its 15th anniversary, SLEHC has awarded
efforts may be seen at other hospitals, it
room asked for a moment of silence
more than $85 million through grants
is St. Luke’s dedication to continually
before the start of the procedure. They
to nonprofit health service programs
integrate faith and healing into every
wanted to allow everyone in the room the
throughout the Diocese of Texas.
aspect of care that sets it apart from other
opportunity for prayer and silent reflection
healthcare institutions.
to honor the donor for the remarkable gifts.
A few months ago, St. Luke’s at the Vintage participated with LifeGift—a not-for-profit organization working with hospitals to recover organs and tissue for transplants—in the donation of two kidneys and two livers. A patient at the
LifeGift had never seen this simple tribute before but has now decided to encourage hospitals to incorporate this opportunity to honor the donor and the gift at all recoveries. In 1997, the Episcopal Diocese of
St. Luke’s employees are proud to be a part of a healthcare system that cares for some of the most critically ill patients in the region, has created programs that are world renowned and understands the importance of community outreach. These efforts go far beyond the walls of a single institution—they impact the entire region.
hospital had died but had made the
Texas expanded the healing ministry
This is what Faithful, Loving Care® means
generous decision to become an organ
of St. Luke’s through the creation of
to those who work for St. Luke’s.
donor to bring new hope to a small
St. Luke’s Episcopal Health Charities
number of the more than 113,000 men,
(SLEHC). A grant-making public charity,
women and children across the country
SLEHC extends its reach to underserved
who are desperately waiting for a lifesaving
communities and partners with St. Luke’s
transplant.
as it fulfills its charity care obligations
The ICU nurse and priest who
TALES OF HEALING Bishop High shared his stories from St. Luke’s Hospital online. Read them at tinyurl.com/bishophigh.
and faith-based mission. As it approaches
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BAND-AIDS TO THE ER, CAMP NURSES COVER THE FIELD by Carol E. Barnwell
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epicenter.org
One of the strengths of Camp Allen’s summer camp program is often not apparent to the camper or parents, but is a vital component for a safe and healthy campus. The summer camp nursing staff works year round to plan and maintain the highest standards and practices to care for more than 1700 campers, ages 8–17, who attend camp each summer. Carol Murphy has been a nurse at Camp Allen for12 years and has served as nursing director for the past five. She attended nursing school in Oklahoma and is a retired school nurse who works as a patient surgical educator for several doctors in Bryan/ College Station. Murphy learned about Camp Allen in 2000 at a school nurse meeting when the camp was recruiting for summer camp work. “At the time, I had more than 10 years of experience in faith-based camps in Oklahoma, California, Louisiana and Texas when my children were campers,” she said. She was thrilled for the opportunity to be a camp nurse close to home. After more than a decade at Camp Allen, Murphy finds the outstanding staff and the opportunity to “teach and influence God’s children in a beautiful, natural environment,” to be highlights of her time there. “It’s like a ‘reprieve’ from the world … and gives me a boost to return better equipped to serve God and man,” she said. Many of the RNs that serve on staff throughout the summer consider the time at Camp Allen a “mini” vacation, she said, even though the
hours may be long with campsite calls in the middle of the night for ill or homesick campers. Nurses are called on for many situations. They provide medical care but also dish up ample doses of TLC for first time campers who are homesick. “We check for physical symptoms, then try to refocus the camper,” with lots of encouragement and reassurance, making sure the staff knows they need special attention. Chris Burton, RN, said there are times she touches base with a parent “to get a little more information on a camper and learn how we can encourage them to enjoy their week.” Sometimes, they are faced with broader issues like the 2010 H1N1 flu epidemic. Murphy recruited the staff chaplain and other staff members to assist the nurses with dozens of campers who came down with the flu. “We all worked together,” she said, “caring for the kids, assigning beds, calling parents, washing linens. It was rewarding to see how smoothly the medical protocols I helped develop actually functioned. It also gave us opportunities to improve our response to any future situations,” she added. As director, Murphy works with local hospitals and clinics throughout the year to set up the summer camp health care plans that are directed and overseen by Dr. Glen Lawrence, a Scott & White College Station pediatrician, who also serves as consulting camp physician. Staying in touch with parents is also under her purview. Whether it’s a broken arm, poison ivy or other difficulties—
parents are kept in the loop. “Timely communication with camper’s parents/guardians is extremely important in assuring optimal health care for campers,” Murphy acknowledged. “Whether it’s an ongoing medical need or a trip to the local ER, communication is a part of the nurses’ professional role, but also demonstrates the loving, caring way that Camp Allen nurses practice nursing ministry at summer camp,” she said. “We may be in a very relaxed setting but we need to be prepared and ready for any emergency that may occur,” Burton said. Camp President George Dehan makes sure that they have a first-class nursing staff on hand at all times. Camp Allen enjoys a high percentage of returning nurses year after year. “Mr. Dehan continues to view nurses as a vital part of the summer camp program and makes sure they are compensated above the basic rate,” Murphy said. Camp Allen has a significant faith component to their summer camping program. Murphy finds that a “blessing,” especially the opportunity to teach campers and staff that a healthy body is the first step to being prepared to serve God. Murphy loves the moments of success when she witnesses a camper realize they can handle their independence, sometimes a difficult time for them. “It gives them the groundwork for working through other problems that they may eventually encounter,” she said.
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| 33 | JUNE 2012
CALENDAR & PEOPLE Bishop Doyle’s Calendar June
2 9 a.m.
Election of Bishop Suffragan, Christ Church Cathedral, Houston
3
1 a.m.
St. Stephen’s, Houston, CF
5 p.m.
Hope, Houston, CF
People
The Rev. Jimmy Abbott accepted the call as rector of Holy Comforter, Spring. He was previously the curate at St. Alban’s, Waco.
The Rev. Dr. Israel W. Ahimbisibwe accepted the appointment as vicar of Redeemer, Houston. He also serves as college missioner to the University of Houston and as assisting priest at Holy Spirit, Houston.
The Rev. Susan Barnes accepted the call as interim assistant at Christ Church Cathedral, Houston. She was previously associate at St. Matthew’s, Austin
The Rev. Matthew Fenlon, assistant to the rector at St. John the Divine, Houston, is now canonically resident in the Diocese of Texas.
6 6 p.m.
International Community of Hope Conference, Camp Allen
10
Iona School Graduation, Camp Allen
12-13
Executive Board, Camp Allen
16 10 a.m.
Deacon Ordination, Christ Church Cathedral, Houston
The Rev. Dorothy Gremillion accepted the call as interim rector of St. Mark’s, Bay City.
17
11 a.m.
St. Thomas’, Houston, CF
24
10:30 a.m. St. Peter’s, Brenham, CF
27
7:30 p.m. St. Timothy’s, Lake Jackson, CF
The Rev. Patrick Hall accepted the appointment as campus missioner to Rice University. He was previously associate rector of Holy Spirit, Houston.
The Rev. Scotty Innes accepted the call as associate priest, Calvary, Richmond on January 15.
The Rev. John B. Johnson accepted the call as Vicar of St. John’s, Silsbee. He was previously the vicar of Trinity, Anahuac.
The Rev. Doug Lasiter is now the vicar of Emmanuel in Miles City, Montana. He most recently did interim work in the Diocese of Texas.
The Rev. Ken Malcolm accepted a call as rector of St. Mark’s, Durango, Colorado. He was formerly at St. David’s, Austin.
The Rev. Bill Phillips transferred his letters dimissory to the Diocese of Western Louisiana.
The Rev. Josephine Robertson accepted the call as assistant rector at St. Paul’s, Waco.
11 a.m.
July 1
9:30 a.m. Grace, Galveston, CF
3-12
General Convention, Indianapolis
August
9 a.m.
St. John’s, Center, CF
12
11 a.m.
Christ Church, San Augustine, CF
15
6:30 p.m. Holy Trinity, Dickinson, CF
19
10:30 a.m. St. George’s, Texas City, CF
26
10 a.m.
Trinity, Jacksonville, CF
5 p.m.
Christ Church, Jefferson, CF
A Little Homework for You When the Texas Episcopalian became a quarterly magazine, parish news relocated to the website. Sign up to receive a weekly digest of parish news and events at tinyurl. com/diologenews. And share news and photos of your summer mission trips at www.epicenter.org/share.
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Deaths
The Rev. Susie Comer’s father, the Rev. Dr. James Millen Darnell, died February 9 in Memphis, Tennessee.
Dana Danford, mother of the Rev. Chase Danford, passed away in Waco on March 3.
The Rev. Martha Frances’ mother, Frances L’Huillier, passed away Sunday, February 12 in Kerrville.
Barbara Lowrey, widow of the Rev. Jack Lowrey, died in Schulenburg on April 11.
Rob MacDonald, father of Pamela Wittmayer and father-in-law of the Rev. Kevin Wittmayer passed away in Kent, Washington.
The Rev. Milton E. McWilliams, Jr., retired, passed away at the age of 91 on March 17 in Fredericksburg.
Evelyn Platt, mother-in-law of Shirley Platt, diocesan database services manager, passed away March 8 in Houston.
Catherine B. “Kitty” Powell, widow of the Rev. George Powell, passed away February 20 in Jacksonville, Texas.
Please keep these families in your prayers.
EPISCOPAL NIGHT AT THE BALLPARK FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2012 7:05 PM ASTROS.COM/EPISCOPAL
Bishop Andy Doyle will be throwing the first pitch.
Special Pricing
Stay late... Post-Game Fireworks
Mezzanine : $16
Field Box : $26 Bullpen Boxes : $19 View Deck I : $13
A portion of the proceeds will benefit new initiatives of the Episcopal Church.
View Deck II : $11
VS.
For groups of 20 or more please contact Brent Broussard at 713.259.8316 or email broussard@astros.com. Christ Church Cathedral will host a pregame cookout. They will start serving free hotdogs with all the fixin’s and beverages at 5 p.m. Contact Melissa White with any questions: 713.590.3302.
Diolog
| 35 | JUNE 2012
The Episcopal Diocese of Texas 1225 Texas Street Houston, TX 77002-3504
BRACE YOURSELF: SUMMER CAMP IS COMING
It’s never too early to get excited about camp. The summer camp program at Camp Allen is one of the largest summer camp programs in the Episcopal Church. Plan to be part Summer 2012 with: 1720 Campers, 24 Clergy, 118 Counselors, 12 nurses, 165 Adult Volunteers, 45 College Resident Cabin Counselors and 25 Senior Staff.