Louise

I was so afraid of failing. 

It was my first season as a chaplain. It had all come together really quickly and in such dramatic fashion that I knew it was God's doing. It had been on my heart for a long time, and now, here I was, entering my first shift as a chaplain and meeting my preceptor for the first time. 

Insecure as I was, I had also recently found my voice, and so as I sat across the table from Sister Louise, I wrung my hands a little, looked down at the tabletop, and told her all of the ways that I was about to fail...and why. 

I told her that I needed her to have a little grace with me, to take it easy on me in a few very specific ways that I was most likely to fail. That I already knew my failures and shortcomings and was doing my best to overcome them, so just give me some space and don't worry too much about it. 

Sister Louise didn't say anything. 

In fact, she said very little at all over the course of the next 6 months. The truth is that as long as I worked under her, I never heard a thing. She had my assignment sheet printed out for me in the mornings, she checked on my rounding during the day, but every bit of feedback or critique that I received that semester came from my educational preceptors, not my clinical one. 

The truth is, I never knew if Sister Louise even liked me at all, and that drove me NUTS. It drove me absolutely crazy. 

I didn't know if I was doing a good job. I didn't know if she thought I was going to make it as a chaplain. I didn't know what I needed to improve on. I didn't know anything.

Don't get me wrong - our relationship was not cold. She took me over to the house where the sisters lived, invited me over to a meal with her. She greeted me warmly.

Every single day, she set an amazing example of the kind of peace and purpose and faith that I wanted to have in my own life. I was watching her like a hawk for any tiny inkling of an indication of what she actually thought of me, but in all that watching, what I saw was a life filled with faith, with grace, with confident assurance. The kind of quiet, beautiful life that I still aspire to to this day. 

At the end of the semester, as we sat around that same table for end-of-program evaluations, Sister Louise looked at me and said, "Do you remember what you said to me when we first met at this table?" Truth is, by that point, I didn't. I had completely forgotten. 

She recounted to me all of the things I had told her, all of the ways I was going to fail, all of the ways I told her she had to cut me some slack, all the grace I had asked for right up front...

...and then she told me I hadn't needed any of it. In fact, what she told me was how long a way I had come in believing in myself in those few short months...and how good of a chaplain I was. 

Sister Louise was supposed to be my preceptor in becoming a better chaplain, but she spent that entire term quietly letting me become a better me. 

I remember her fondly. 

And I wonder about the roles that I play in the lives of others. I wonder about those who have their own insecurities and who think they're just looking for a little grace when what they actually need is the space to grow some confidence. I wonder about those who are wrestling with whether or not I like them, how much feedback I am or am not giving them. I wonder about those who are watching me like a hawk for any indication that might ease their own insecurities...and what they're actually seeing when they're watching me. 

Are they seeing a life of quiet grace, faith, and confident assurance? Are they seeing enough little wry smiles as I think about all the good things they are going to do in the world? Am I an encouragement to them while they're busy beating up on themselves? 

I always said I wanted to be more like Sister Louise. I wonder if, in 12 years, I am any closer. But...I'm still trying.