Holy and Hard

When I share what I do with people there are varying responses; usually I am told “I cannot imagine doing that” or “that must be so hard”, while some are fascinated, intrigued and want to know more, others simply go “oh” and change the subject as quickly as possible. All these responses are valid and welcome. I often say that while yes, my job is the hardest thing I have ever done, it is also the holiest thing I have ever had the opportunity to experience. To be invited into people’s lives as a stranger, to be asked to hold space for people in their most vulnerable moments is truly the greatest gift and it is often sad.

Today, I am sad. I can feel anger in my chest, my heart, my veins and I can feel tears of grief stinging my eyes. Today, I feel human. I always tell people that I know something is wrong if I am unable to cry because tears connect me to my humanness, connect me to the Holy Spirit, connect me to my fellow siblings in humanity, connect me to God’s good creation all around me.

So, for the anger that burned through my veins today, I am grateful because I know it points to my grief. For the tears burning my eyes, I give thanks because my fully human Margaret essence is still inside of me going strong telling me to live with my heart.

In the line of work I find myself in I am often asked “why?” I will admit, I have asked “why?” countless times. I encourage people to ask it, I encourage people to dip their toes into the question and even completely dunk themselves in it—as long as you know you will most likely not receive an answer or you might be even left with more questions.

During my residency I grappled with the “why” questions until I was blue in the face, frustrated and definitely a little burned out. Eventually the answer became “I don’t know and will probably never know” and that is when a new question arose and it became “Where is God in this?” The change in question, changed my perspective and challenged me to see things differently and to look around me. It asked me to see more and to hope for more. And without fail, I have found God.

Today, I am sad and mad. I give thanks for that. So, I will sit here, have a cup of tea, let myself cry, let myself rage and then I am going to release it all back to God.

This past Sunday, we celebrated Easter and it is the Easter hope that strengthens me to continue on. For me to do the job I love and to faithfully answer the call I feel in my heart I cling to the hope that death is not the final say. I cling to the hope I have in a God who will cry alongside me, hold my tears as sacred signs of love, and who will never abandon me in grief.

My heart, body, and mind cannot hold all the anger, the grief, the fear, the worry, the sadness, the joy, the love, the laughter—that is why I cry to let it all out, to honor it as sacred and holy and to give thanks that I am truly alive and fully human.

Today, I feel sad. But I am going to trust that God is a God who can hold all of this and will hold me through it. So, I release it and turn my broken heart over to God who will lovingly stitch it back together somehow creating a heart that has even more room for love.