Christmas Poem, G.K. Chesterton

Christmas Poem

G.K.Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.

Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost—how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.

This world is wild as an old wife’s tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall all men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

(Gilbert Keith Chesterton)

With thanks to:

http://www.gkc.org.uk/gkc/books/christmas-poem.html

Not only do GKC and I share a name (my first name is Keith, as is my father’s), he is truly one of my great literary heroes.  If you aren’t familiar with his work, please look it up.  His biographies of St. Francis and St. Thomas are very good, and his fiction is always fun; even his serious Christian work is a pleasure.  He was a great influence on C.S. Lewis.  Oh, and he carried a sword cane and pocket pistol with which to defend his treasured wife.  Thanks, GKC, for your gifts to us!

 

Holidays and Holy Days; My Christmas Book

This is a book of columns about Christmas and Easter that I put together with the SC Baptist Courier two years ago.  It’s still available and I think you would enjoy it!

https://www.amazon.com/Holidays-Holy-Days-Grace-Sacred-ebook/dp/B00PBHEF58/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1480385263&sr=1-1&keywords=holidays+and+holy+days+edwin+leap

 

Idols All Around

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/11/14/commentary-humans-easily-deceived-idols-every-sort/93588762/

One of the consistent themes that runs all through the Bible is the theme of idolatry. And if we can learn anything from its writers down the thousands of years and hundreds of generations since they lived, it’s that humans are easily deceived by idols of every sort.
It’s arrogant for us to laugh off the idea of stone and wooden deities, and shake our heads at the fish or dragons, serpents or elephants that they represented to our ancestors. (That’s right, all of our ancestors!) Because we’re no less susceptible despite our assertions that we are modern and rational. Twenty-first century man remains a remarkably idolatrous creature.
This is rarely as evident as it is during a presidential election cycle, when we believe that vast power, and all our destinies, rest with the office and person we are electing. If only we elect him, or her, all our problems will be solved and our enemies smitten! We elevate candidates and politicians to places they were never meant to be, not by God, nor indeed by the founders of our republic, who doubtless had a much more suspicious view of human character than we do; else they would never have built in so many checks and balances.
In fact, during elections we also make idols of government in general, constitutions, courts and legislative bodies. We worship commentators and media outlets and anyone and everything connected with the process. We idolize our own opinions and spend far more time in our own personal echo-chambers than we do either worshipping God or (for the non-religious) simply pursuing secular knowledge or simple joy. Pity, as our self-adulating tirades and tantrums change few minds.
But it isn’t only politics. We all have our idols. Thanks to social media, young people take constant photos of themselves in a kind of self-worship. Social media have also allowed Americans to make an idol of the approval of others, whether in likes for one’s selfie, or agreement with one’s views. The disapproval of others is a bitter pill whose side effects include exclusion from friendly society; a kind of excommunication for heresy. How many opinions would be shared more honestly if not for the fear of being shunned or attacked en masse online?
Conservatives often idolize guns or military prowess, as if they could save us from all danger. And yet the Bible says ‘Some trust in chariots and some trust in horses, but we trust in the Lord our God.’ (Psalm 20:7) (The chariot being the main battle tank of antiquity, by the way.) And liberals make an idol of choice, as if replacing the word ‘killing’ with a euphemism makes it less like the reality of killing an unborn child, less like a modern adoration of the dark god Molech.
We idolize the freedom of sexual expression and sexual orientation, as if all that mattered in this life were who could have sex with whom. And on the other side, we idolize morality, as if our sanctimonious attitudes about sexual sin were anywhere as important as the forgivingness and redemption offered in the Bible to those who sin sexually, gay or straight. Grace matters more than moralism.
America idolizes the idea of compassion and charity without understanding the moral and spiritual underpinnings that make it reasonable and possible. And yet, we also idolize the American concept that everyone can simply succeed if they try, which is simply untrue. The deck is sometimes stacked and there are those who need our assistance, personally and through state programs. Some idolize capitalism, some idolize socialism, but both can become monstrous deities when not applied with Godly wisdom and caution.
The Decalogue begins with ‘I am the Lord your God who brought you out of slavery, out of the land of Egypt.’ And follows it immediately with ‘you shall have no other gods before me.’ And of course, after receiving the Ten Commandments, the people promptly made a Golden Calf and ignored God, the source of all their good things. You can be an atheist and still see the truth in this tale. This is the story of all mankind. The worship of those things we shouldn’t, and the rejection of those things that are truly, ultimately good.
Whether a citizen is religious or not, we can surely agree that we all have idols we should take from their altars. Maybe it’s a good time to start.

We All Have to Face Evil

Dear reader, 

This is my column in today’s Greenville News.  I wasn’t sure if it was the right column for this week, but I’d been thinking about it for a while.  Ironically, I really lost track of the date and wasn’t thinking about the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks.  But maybe it was appropriate as we consider what evils were inflicted that day.  Anyway, here it is.  May God deliver you and yours from temptation and evil.

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/readers/2016/09/11/commentary-we-all-have-face-evil/90004264/

‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.’ So goes the last sentence of the Lord’s Prayer. (Well, unless you count the later addition, ‘For thine is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory, forever and ever, amen.’)
The more I think about it as I get older, the more important the ideas of temptation and evil seem. As a husband, as a father, as a physician, I am fully convinced of the moral and spiritual dangers of this world. And yet, those words,’temptation’ and ‘evil’ fall on skeptical ears in a modern, scientific world. Do we believe in such a thing as temptation? Do we believe in evil? And how do we learn about these things in a time when virtue itself seems all too relative? And are they really relative as we search everywhere for virtuous leaders?
The word ‘temptation’ is dismissed as laughable. Rather than seeing it as a thing to be resisted, an assault on our character, a fork in the road of life, (or worst of all, the actions of Temptation should be embraced, as it invariably leads to fun and to liberty.
And ‘evil’ is even worse. Evil is only evil in the eye of those condemning it. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure; one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. One man’s campaign contribution is another man’s bribe. Evil is passe’. It’s a yawn, a hoax passed down from an irrelevant church through silly preachers and uptight believers. Evil isn’t a thing for modern, educated people. Right?
Personally, I hold with the stark reality of temptation and evil. Reflecting on my own life I realize that I have experienced any number of temptations. Some of which I regrettably embraced.
Media and popular culture, being the principal moral guide-posts of generations, teach us that it’s funny to laugh about temptation, especially when it occurs in youth, and relates to sex, drugs and alcohol. But it quickly turns serious when we realize that temptation also eads people to use ever more powerful, ever more addictive and lethal drugs. Temptation leads men and women to cheat on their spouses, abuse children, embezzle, lie, engage in shady business deals, abuse public office, commit acts of terror, oppress, torment, rape or murder. It causes coups and wars, genocides and crushing poverty, loneliness, broken homes, broken hearts.
It’s common to suggest that such activities are merely the result of mental illness or caused by the frustrations of poverty or oppression. While sometimes true, the news doesn’t bear that out. Many very sane, very capable, very educated and financially sound people fall prey to temptation, a thing which ruins their own lives and those of others.Temptation, then, is the trail-head down evil paths. Evil, that old church bugaboo, that joke perpetuated on children, by ignorant religious folks, in order to manipulate them! But we all, every man, woman and child, believe fully in evil. We just have different words for it. We may disagree about the source. Is it something spiritual? Is it mental, financial or social? But without doubt, we know that there are dangerous forces and wrong things in the world.
Even the most convinced and brilliant atheist (and there are many) will reasonably condemn certain actions and applaud others. We use words like ‘unfair.’ We say we ‘ought to’ or ‘ought not to’ do certain things. We believe ‘that’s just wrong’ about a host of behaviors. Slavery? Bad. Murder? Bad. Greed? Bad. Human trafficking? Bad. Environmental destruction? Bad. Intolerance? Oppression? Tyranny? Hatred? Abuse of political power? Bad, bad, bad. And, to those of us with a more theistic inclination, evil.
And yet we live out a strange duality, in which we reject the idea of temptation’s perils and the reality of evil, even as we want to see virtue blossom. We find ourselves surrounded by crime, war, racism and sexism. We rail against big business, misleading ministers and lying politicians. We desire that our leaders be ‘good’ and ‘just’ even as we vacillate over virtue for ourselves, and can’t help laughing at things like ‘temptation’ and ‘evil.’
We may have to find different words to speak a common language here. But suffice it to say, I still pray that God will lead me not into temptation, and will deliver me from evil. And all those I love. For in a dangerous world, temptation and evil are real. And I’m just too weak to face it alone.

Can you be a Christian in the ER? Grace abounds…

BOT_F

Many young physicians in training have asked me, quietly or by e-mail, ‘is it possible to be a Christian and practice emergency medicine?’  I think that they ask a good question, and likely for good reasons.

In their rotations they have witnessed, first hand, life in the ER.  They are uncertain, perhaps, because they see the frustration that boils over in the words and actions of otherwise compassionate and caring doctors and nurses. They hear the bitterness and sarcasm, the profanity, the unkind words spoken behind the glass window that separates professional from patient.

They also see, hear, touch…and often smell…the humanity that pours through the doors of trauma centers, academic emergency departments, community ER’s and all the rest.  There is suffering and loss, and the long, piercing wail of the bereaved down the hall, receiving the worst news of all.  They experience the addicted, the drug seeker who will tell any lie, contrive any store to get the pill or injection he or she so needs and desires.  They witness the poverty and need, the hungry, empty eyes of neglected children.   The may witness, or experience, the explosive violence and cruelty of the drunk, the criminal, the wounded.  In such a place, between suffering patients and suffering staff, what young, wide-eyed Christian wouldn’t ask, ‘Dr. Leap, is it possible to keep your faith and work in the emergency department?’

So here is my short epistle on the topic:

‘To the believers in the hospitals and emergency rooms, the church medical, across the land, around the world.  From your brother Edwin, who these years has fallen and gotten up over and over and who loves you and wishes to encourage you.

It is my prayer that you have strength to face the sickness and pain into which you plunge yourself every day.  All around you come victims; victims of disease and accident, victims of violence and neglect, cruelty and hatred.  The drunk and addicted, the angry and the sad, the suicidal and lost, the rejected and abused, the healthy and also the dying; and all are among the dying in the end.  Remember that all of them, and all of us, are also victims of sin, for it was in our separation from God in ancient times that all of this pain began, and in which death took hold of those originally destined for life.

Remember that the guilty and the innocent alike suffer from this, and that our Lord came to be an intercessor, high priest and atoning sacrifice for all.   Your struggle is against the infirmities of the flesh, but also against the wounds of the spirit that underly all suffering in this veil, until we reach the kingdom where death has no power…and you will be out of work for all eternity.  Amen.

Look around you each day, and consider that the emergency room, the hospital ward, the clinic, the operating room, these are places where the gospel is shown forth to you in power, a great gift from the Father so that you may understand by the example of others’ troubles what spiritual truths lie beneath it all and undergird it all.

Although we are all poor reflections, destined to one day (as the word says) ‘be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is,’ we are still his dim but ever growing likeness.   And we are His hands, feet, mouth, eyes, mind.  Like Him, we who go day in and day out among the lost, the suffering and those who (despite their willfulness) are hostages to evil.

And although we may have sin in our hearts, although we judge and are angry and frustrated, we do His work.  That is, brothers and sisters, we bring love and touch and healing and comfort to those who frequently have done nothing to deserve it, who exhibit no gratitude or intent to change, but who need our love, need the love and redemption of Jesus.  And like Him, we will show it seventy times seven, through temper tantrums thrown our way, complaints, cruel words, irresponsibility, patient satisfaction, EMR (the devil’s work) and every other difficulty.

Dear ones, in the ER, grace is at work, and a model of grace is there for you to enact and understand.  You give undeserved love and care for everyone all day, every day.  The Spirit gives you strength in hardship so that you may be bold, whether rested or tired, prepared or unprepared.  Also, remember that the spirit works in your sinful heart, to your salvation and holiness.  Those your treat are no worse than you and you no greater than them.  There is a great gift of holy humility in that truth.

One day, on that Great Day, you will see that each act, every stitch, every comforting hand, every EKG, every airway, every psychiatric commitment, each and every weary step into the same room with the same patient and same complaint, every unkind word for another physician restrained, every patient act, these were all acts of grace that molded you.   And the Father, Son and Spirit will welcome you, veteran of ten thousand daily trials.

And it is in this way that one can be a Christian in the ER, in the trauma center, clinic, operating room, delivery suite and all the rest despite the trials, temptations and bitterness that the enemy of our souls inflicts up on us in our work.

May the God of all peace guide you and strengthen you in your difficult work, and fill you with radiant, overwhelming love.

And may you have a quiet shift.

 

You’re not alone; especially in a stadium full of people like you.

Not Alonehttp://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/04/24/ed-leap-reminder-youre-not-alone/83295392/

When I was a resident in training, I spent a day working as a physician at the Indianapolis 500 race, with my lovely bride accompanying me. It was an impressive spectacle. In fact, at least then, it was the largest single day sporting event in the world, with some 300,000 attendees. (And coming around again next month by the way!)
Although I admit to never attending a NASCAR race, I’m sure it’s a similar feeling. The press of humanity, the sound of engines, the smell of gasoline, the rivers of soft-drinks and beer. The inappropriate clothing…but I digress. The whole thing was simultaneously exhilarating and overwhelming.
I sometimes reflect on the enormity of that place. And then I think, oddly enough, about loneliness and isolation, as if in stark contrast to the race. One of the worst things in the world is isolation, actual or perceived. Many people suffer enormously because they feel utterly alone in life. And worse, they feel alone in times of trial.
I wonder what would happen to the hearts and minds of those people if we had special days when everyone with similar problems could meet in a vast stadium for a day. If, from every small neighborhood and farm community, every big city, every subdivision, people could come together with others who shared their trials. Can you imagine? In order to help envision it, I’ve done a little research.
According to the CDC, about 3.5% of American adults suffer from Major Depression. Since we have about 314 million persons in the US, that comes to almost 11 million adults. (I’m not even counting children and adolescents afflicted with the same). If the Indianapolis Motor Speedway holds 250,000 persons (50,000 more in the infield), it would take 43 stadiums to get all of those folks into stadiums to come together.
How about that endless specter, cancer? The National Cancer Institute of NIH reports that in 2014 there were 14.5 million people living beyond their cancer diagnosis. They also report that it is estimated that in the US there will be some 1,685,000 new cases in 2016. That would require 138 stadiums the size of Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor to get the survivors together; many of whom still suffer anxiety and side effects of their treatments.
The Partnership for Drug Free Kids website says that there are, in America today, 22 million individuals addicted to drugs or alcohol. Since Clemson’s Death Valley only holds some 81,500 Tigers and other species, it would take a lot of similarly sized facilities to manage all of those with addiction issues. In fact, it would take 269 such stadiums, to be precise.
Sadly, about 800,000 persons are widowed each year in the United States, of which 700,000 are women, the remainder men. (From the website widowshope.org. ) While it would take fewer stadiums, it would still require the equivalent of eight versions of LSU’s Tiger Stadium.
In 2012, 1.25 million American adults and children had type 1, insulin dependent, diabetes. This from the American Diabetes Association, who should know such things after all. Getting them together for some low-carb food and fun would require 13 stadiums the size of Wembley in London. (For all of those fans of the ‘other’ football…)
It sounds like I’m trying to bring everyone down. But I’m not. My point is exactly the opposite. For all of the loneliness that all of these people may feel, the larger reality is that they are part of much larger groups. It’s all too easy, alone in the hospital, the doctor’s office, the same chair at home, the same lonely church pew, to feel completely alone.
This is, of course, the reason for support groups. It is also point of friendship, love and outreach. While we may not share all the same afflictions as others, we can certainly be with them, listen to them, comfort them in their trials. And to the extent that we have the same problems, we can be even greater reassurance. This is why we were instructed by St. Paul to ‘rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.’
We mean something entirely different when we quip, ‘misery loves company.’ But the truth is that it does. It craves company. Those in pain and loss, those struggling or afraid, need to know they aren’t alone.
And it needn’t take a trip to the Indy 500 to make that a reality.

 

Instrument of torture as wearable art; Jesus mocks the cross…

Old weathered wooden cross with blood and tie ropes representative of the cross that was used during the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

Old weathered wooden cross with blood and tie ropes representative of the cross that was used during the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

 

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/03/26/jesus-turned-cross-into-symbol-victory/82160182/

My wife has a new cross necklace, given to her by some dear friends of ours. It’s a beautiful bit of silver-work, with flowing lines, flowers and a fish symbol. In fact, our house has a lot of crosses on the walls. People have remarked at the number and artistry of them. We smile and say, ‘every entrance faces one; keeps out the vampires.’ 

It’s odd, though, that the cross became a thing of decoration to Christians. There were pre-Christian cross symbols and pre-Roman crucifixions, but the Roman penchant for this particular form of suffering, and the very execution of Jesus, would seem to have put an end to any illusions about the symbol being a thing of beauty.
And yet, it was first used to represent Christianity as early as the third century AD. At that point, the cross was still being used as a form of execution! (Indeed it probably continued for a few hundred years more and still is used in parts of the world.) Then, as now, wearing a cross was rather like wearing a necklace with an electric chair charm, and decorating with one is akin to having a wall hanging with a noose in the center; rather macabre.
For some, crosses of silver and gold, wood or stone, are nothing more than cultural decorations of minor historical interest. However, to those who really understand and keep Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, to those who take the time to study, pray and reflect, the cross is a treasure of unfathomable power and beauty.
We could say, for instance, that the death of Christ on a cross was the ultimate act of social justice. You see, Roman crucifixion was for the ‘outsiders.’ The only Roman citizens executed on the cross were army deserters. Others were exempt from its brutality. Whether or not you believe in the divinity of Jesus, his death was the death of the stranger, the immigrant, the slave, the criminal. He died with the kind of people he touched, healed, comforted, taught and came to redeem. He was not ‘connected’ or possessed of earthly power.
His cross, blood soaked, embedded with scourged skin, was a symbol of the rebellion of love and non-violence against earthly power and its vanities. He did not resist. He said to his enemies, in essence, ‘fine, have it your way. Even here I work for your good. Hate me, kill me and I will love you through my death.’ Unlike most of history’s rebels, he said of his tormentors, from the crushing height of the cross, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.’
All of these things make us seen the cross as compelling, even with its stains and jagged edges, ropes and nails. But the reason, in my opinion, that it became a thing we see as beautiful is that on it, Christ finally ended the tyranny of sin and death. It’s beautiful because it is empty; because finally someone died on a cross (with all of its condemnation and misery) but lived once more.
In the ancient world death lurked everywhere, but without even the staying hand of modern science, medicine, hygiene and law. And on that cross Jesus, by dying and returning, put the power of death to sleep forever, and showed mankind that although we would die as well, we could also live again like him. The message is precious to the sick and grieving; that is, all of us in the end.
There’s more; because now as then, guilt and remorse, evil and worry, sorrow, loss and brokenness were everywhere. Christians call it ‘sin,’ as unpalatable as the word is today.
The power of sin, the devastation of the entrenched separation of man from God and all that it wrought, also ended on that hill outside the walls of Jerusalem.
Finally, we could say with joy that Christ mocked the cross and all it stood for by defying its power and the power of those who used it. The old rugged cross, dark god of death, became a thing for necklaces and wall hangings, covered in flowers and rimmed in silver. The wooden torture device liberated and turned to good, like everything Jesus touched.
Easter is a time of flowers, pastels and so many beautiful things. But none as beautiful as the cross and the one who died on it and triumphed over it.

 

Beautiful cross made from flowers

Beautiful cross made from flowers

Church helps bring us together

My column in today’s Greenville News.  You don’t have to be a believer to see that, for all its flaws, the church has had, and continues to have, great benefit for those who attend.  And to the extent that it unites rather than divides, benefits for society at large.

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/03/12/church-helps-bring-us-together/81575156/

By way of full disclosure, I’m a preacher’s kid. So, when I write about all of the benefits that accrue from church attendance, I’m speaking from both experience and from a slight bias. But before anyone gets angry and accuses me of all the standard Christian ‘crimes against humanity’ (shoving religion down your throat, intolerance, wanting a theocracy, hating people who are different, being ‘judgmental,’ being a right wing extremist, etc.), let me say that I’m going to talk about the benefits of church without getting into theology at all. That’s right. I’ll try not to even invoke the names of the particular deity that I worship. (I’ll save that for Easter Sunday.)
When I grew up, given that my father was a pastor, church was just what we did. Sunday morning church attendance wasn’t a negotiable (although other services were as I grew older). We got up, mom made breakfast, dad matched ties, polished his shoes and went over his sermon. Then we piled into the car and went to whichever church he was leading at the time. (We were semi-migratory United Methodists.)
In church, we children were herded into Sunday School classes where we were taught and mentored by kind men and women who knew us and our families. From them we learned the stories of our faith, many of which are idiomatic to Western culture at large. And we made dear friends. Some of them are still my friends decades later.
After Sunday School we went to the main church service. There we learned the value of decorum, respect and reverence. We witnessed and participated in the ancient traditions that our fellow believers have followed for two thousand years, and which help anchor believers in difficult times.
In the summer we had Vacation Bible School, that classic church activity held (now as then) in what was surely the hottest, muggiest time of the year, during which we did crafts, heard stories, sang songs, played dodge-ball in the basement and drank our total individual fluid volume in grape Kool-Aid,. We were nourished by sugar cookies and potato chips.
We later dated people we went to church with, although it turns out you aren’t allowed to make out with your girlfriend during church services. (A friend of mine discovered this in a fairly unpleasant manner). We went to camp and on other summer adventures with our friends. And we became adults together, moving slowly out of youth groups into adult classes and adult behavior.
We also learned music. Although these are days of microphones, amplifiers and Power-Point in church (nothing wrong with that), we not only sang in youth choirs and later with adults, we learned to read music and follow along. We appreciated melody and harmony. We read the beautiful lyrics written by great church composers, poetry filled with depth, wonder and hope. Those works are etched deeply in my memory. Many of those beautiful songs are lost to recent generations. It’s a pity. Even Christopher Hitchens, noted and brilliant atheist, suggested the value of reading the King James Bible. I feel the same way about great hymns.
In church, from childhood on, we saw sad, hurt people come to the altar to confess or lay out their troubles. There, friends and family surrounded them in love, in shared tears, touched them with compassion and prayed by their sides. It’s hard to witness that sort of fellowship and not learn to feel sorrow for the struggles of others.
We watched baptisms and took communion (and snuck extra communion wafers), even when we were still learning to fully understand their meaning. These became bits of our identities.
As time passed we enjoyed the delight of weddings. We also went to funerals. We learned with clarity that a group of people who spend so much time knowing and loving one another have to pass through both joy and the sorrow with them. And that death can be celebrated as surely as grieved.
I understand that many people take issue with Christianity. But church gave me great gifts: a community of fellow believers, meeting in love and sharing values and stories that were both culture foundations and individually inspiring. I continue to enjoy that every week.
And in these times of dissension, alienation and isolation, when the only thing we have in common seems to be division, I think we could use a little more church.

A Visit From Balthazar; a guest post by Dr. Rob Lindeman

This is a beautiful post by my friend, Dr. Rob Lindeman, a fellow emergency physician and pediatrician, long-time blogger and now ‘baby-toddler coach.’

Link to his site can be found at the end of this piece, and in my links section.  Please have a look!

I loved working in the Emergency Department on Christmas. I mean I really loved it.

I’m Jewish, and for me Christmas had always meant Chinese food and a movie. This got dull by my teen years. In the days before the internet, there was literally nothing for us Jews to do on Christmas. We sat around and talked to one another. I know: how horrible is that?

Jewish health care professionals, on the other hand, work on Christmas. Virtually everyone who can get the holiday off does take it off, and that leaves the Members of the Tribe, as we sometimes call ourselves, to pick up Christmas shifts.

Now for those who’ve never seen the inside of a hospital on Christmas, I recommend visiting at least once, if only to spread cheer for those who can’t be home. Christmas is just different from every hospital holiday. Everyone is in a good mood, there’s all the Santa hats, the food in the cafeteria is free (or it used to be, anyway), and the hospital is relatively quiet because there are no elective procedures scheduled for the entire week.

Well, that’s not entirely true: the hospital is not completely quiet on Christmas. The Emergency Department is busy. It’s very busy. When I’ve worked Christmas, I’ve usually worked in the ED, and it’s been non-stop for the entire day. One earns his salary picking up the ED on Christmas.

The waiting room is full, triage is hopping, and every room is full. I remember the first Christmas I worked, my head fairly spinning looking at the board full of names, humming “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” tune from the 80’s (let’s just say there have been better Christmas songs.)

There are several reasons why the ED is so crowded on Christmas, not all of them so jolly. There are the cold and flu sufferers, the stomach bugs, the motor vehicle accidents. But one group made me particularly sad: the people who were in the ED because they just didn’t want to be with family. There was nothing wrong with these patients. They were not really sick. They were not injured. They wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else than at home. That’s one reason for the big crowds.

By nightfall, the census remains high. Now families are falling asleep in the waiting room and in the patient rooms, waiting to be seen.

I peer into a dark patient room. A young mother and her 2-year old son are laying on the exam table, both fast asleep. The boy is audibly wheezing. The board says “asthma” next to his name.

I knock gently and clear my throat. Mom springs up and hurriedly sweeps away the hair that has stuck to her face. She smiles embarrassedly introduces herself.

“And who’s this?” I ask, nodding toward the precious little blonde boy still asleep on the table.

“His name is Balthazar,” she replies, “he’s one of the Three Kings.”

I get it immediately. I’m not extremely well-versed in New Testament Scripture but I know the story from the Gospel of Matthew about the three wise men (or “magi” or “kings”, depending on the rendering) who visit the baby Jesus in the manger, bearing gifts.

And I feel an immediate sense of warmth toward this child and this mother. Here it was, Christmas Day, and Balthazar had come to “visit” me, a Jewish man.

This Balthazar was not particularly distressed with his asthma attack. He was sleeping, after all, and that was a good sign. A couple of nebs and a dose of prednisolone and he was on his way, improved. I had no “gifts” for him. A prescription. That was all.

Like many such stories, this one can have meaning if you want it to, or it can mean nothing at all. I’m still not sure what this episode means in my life. But it feels meaningful. I often think about Balthazar’s visit to the ED that Christmas. And I’m grateful.

http://www.essentiallyhealthychild.com

We should value each other more than politics

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/02/26/value-each-other-more-than-politics/80922306/

Allow me to spin tangentially off of politics for a bit, if you don’t mind. (I promise to bring it back around.) After all, I suspect even the most passionate political advocate would welcome some news coverage of an alien invasion or a cat that speaks French, or anything just to take our minds off of the endless drone of political conversation. I feel like Bill Murray’s character, Phil Connors, in the classic movie, Groundhog Day. ‘There’s no way… this winter (or election)…is ever going to end.’
Instead, I want to talk about perspective. Many readers and friends will recall that five short years ago my wife Jan had a metastatic throat cancer. She endured some pretty miserable radiation and chemotherapy. After that she had a large pulmonary embolus (blood clot in the lung) which put her into intensive care and scared us all.
Over time she recuperated fully and our family went back to life as before, but with some incredible perspectives on the value of life, love, health and the inevitable passage of time. She recently had her last oncology visit and was released. Like a cat tip-toeing on wet grass, the years crept up on us and the thing we hoped and prayed for arrived at last, with less fanfare and perhaps more joy than ever. This year we celebrate her 13th birthday, on February 29th, seeing her as the treasure she is.
The great insight here is that all of our battles, won or lost, illustrate an often neglected fact. Which is that however much we may care about elections or economies or all the rest, the real joy and pain of life circles around that person, or those persons, we love the very most. And anything that makes life better for them, or us, probably won’t come from any elected official of any party but will mostly be the fruit of individual effort (and insight) motivated by intimacy and love.
Indeed, those who govern us have their effects, but hour to hour, day to day, year to year, they remain (quite expectedly) unfamiliar with the unique issues of the many and varied lives of their citizens. We, who love one another year to year, hour to hour, day to day, are best suited to improve the lives of our friends and family members, simply by holding them close in life’s assaults.
Happily, this election too, shall pass. Winners and losers will rise and fall, switch places and mostly end up as impotent to steer the ship of state as all those before them. Scandals will strike, accusations fly, a few good things will result and standard political doldrums will likely set in as always. The political pendulum will pause and swing back and forth as it has for ages, with utter disregard for our messianic political prophecies.
The future will come however we fret about the present. In the end, we will (hopefully) leave behind all of our invective, our screaming, our memes, rallies, slogans and our absolute conviction that a particular candidate will end or miraculously transform life as we know it. We’ll simply move on, as all humans do, to new idols. We’ll then cast the current objects of veneration on the dust-bin of history.
Perhaps, if we are attentive, we’ll then see that the things we dread about the future rarely come to pass at all and suddenly, five years, or ten, will pass and we will still be here, expecting the worst. All the while, of course, living in what is possibly the best time to be human in the history of the world. Many of the things that seemed so immediately critical will probably fade and many of the things that really mattered will remain despite the way we ignored their value. Then we can move forward…till the next election!
Ah, but those we love! Their troubles and victories will remain. Our shared joys and struggles will go on, bonding us together as no election ever could, motivating us far more than any party. They are the arena, they are the causes and campaigns where we make the most difference. They the ‘candidates’ who need and deserve our endless, unwavering devotion and sacrifice.
In our deep need to follow, let’s never forget to follow most closely the ones entrusted to us in the daily trials and wonders of ordinary life.