I was on-call last night, and I am tonight, also. Last night, I think I did not set the beeper correctly, which meant all hell could have broken loose and I wouldn’t have known a think. Of course, that is an exaggeration after all, but even if it were not there would have gotten through it fine without me.
I am in CPE to learn – I am a learner. As one of our fellow Episcopalians from VTS commented earlier today during our first IPR (Inter-Personal Relations) seminary, “we are the project.” Tonight, the beeper is working correctly and I could be called in to the hospital at any time, but only under certain circumstances.
The other CPE’er and I who are assigned to St. Luke’s roamed around Roosevelt hospital to familiarize ourselves with the place in case we are called-in. We spent a good amount of time in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). Man, the security is tight, but this little “Chaplain” badges get us in anywhere. These little, tiny babies – tubes, special lighting, clamps, incubators, naked, parents waiting, waiting. My goodness. So fragile. So helpless. So innocent.
Monday night while Ashton and I were walking in Chelsea after a movie, we saw a woman wondering around (I’ve seen her before), needle marks up her arm… pregnant. To think of this baby inside of her that must endure the trauma of his/her mother’s tragedy is unfathomable. What heroine is doing to the development of that helpless, fragile baby made in the image of God, I cannot imagine. Yet, so many of those crack or heroine or coke or alcohol babies make it, and miraculously many are not seriously devastated. How? God, how?
Oh, and let me expose and express my FEELINGS about…