On the job training

My job is wonderful because I see God’s desire for relationship with his creation every day. My job is terrible because, like a steam engine, it will take whatever you give it. Sometimes it’s easy to just keep feeding the furnace; before you realize it the train is off the tracks.

This weekend I have been trying to apply the brakes.

Two months into my counseling residency, I have come to the realization that I haven’t had a clear enough understanding, or a high enough respect, of my own limits. During the past two weeks, I have spent more than 100 hours at work. As a result, I subconsciously had turned off my emotions. So when co-workers and supervisors told me what was full-time effort, but then asked for more and responded to my “No” in a way that I interpreted meant my “No” was not acceptable, I went along with it.

I thought I could do more than I could. I was naïve. I recognized Sunday that I was suppressing a lot of anger, loneliness and fatigue.

A 5-year-old boy receiving his H1N1 vaccination brought my emotions rushing back. I joined the child in class on Friday as part of his treatment plan. Unbeknownst to me, the vaccinations were on the agenda, but I went along with the process because my job is to blend in during the school day; go along with the child, observe his behavior, be a secure attachment figure for him.

When he got in the chair to get his shot, he began to panic. I was kneeling beside him while one nurse prepared the shot and another woman tried to calm him. When the woman began to use the child’s mother as a bargaining chip – “Don’t you think it would make your Mommy happy ...” – I had had enough. I asked to give it a go, and the lady let me sit in her chair. I gently took the child’s hands, lowered my head to get to eye level. The little guy exhibits ADHD characteristics on top of this spike in anxiety, so his eyes were going everywhere. I caught his gaze, held it and said:

“You are going to do this, and I’m going to be right here with you.”

That’s when he rolled up his own sleeve and let the nurse give the shot. He screamed. Boy, did he scream. And I thought my heart was going to explode. He hugged my neck when it was over. We both cried.

For the rest of Friday and most of Saturday, my thoughts about the experience revolved around how much of an emotional mess I was going to be when I was in the chair across from a child of my blood rather than a child of my job. I didn’t get the point God was trying to get to me.

Until Sunday.

The sermon was based on John 6:32-35, 48-58. Jesus is presenting himself as the bread of life to a people who remember Moses’ manna and are longing for another spiritual leader who will literally feed them. They want to know that their physical needs will be met. Jesus drives a pretty grotesque metaphor, and he doesn’t back away from it or explain it in a more palatable way.

Because I consider myself a believer in attachment theory and its reflection of the design of a God who keeps covenant, I interpreted Jesus’ metaphor to be directing the people to find their security in Him as God. He goes deeper than physical needs, thus he meets those needs in ways that may seem mysterious.

My experience with the child and a needle came flooding back to me. I found myself in the child’s chair, my eyes darting every which way, and a counterfeit security sitting in the chair before me, manipulating me. Work more, earn more, eat more, right? Reality is work more, lose more. Lose more time with the people that matter to me personally. Lose more connection with my emotions. Lose more energy to do my job well enough to keep my job.

Reality is that I’m not hungry, or cold, or exposed physically. God has provided more than I even knew to want or ask.

So I need to have a chat with some co-workers and my supervisor starting today about where I have been and maybe explain some odd behavior.

I also need to be more proactive about connecting with guys, fellow strugglers. Rick, our pastor, found Nicki and me after church where we had squirreled away so I could process. I hugged him and the emotions came back. I hugged him hard, putting all my anger into it. I hugged him harder than I hug Nicki. I don’t want to break her, after all.