Faith Works 6-13-15

[Getting ahead for summer vacation time! Pax, jbg]

Faith Works 6-13-15

Jeff Gill

 

So many important people, so little time

___

 

Snark is not my natural rhythm, and I don't really want to get proficient at it, as a Christian, a pastor, or a person.

 

Sometimes, though, it's the only response I can think of.

 

Because I do marvel at just how many important, critically needed, vitally significant people live here in Licking County. Maybe there are this many people on a mission elsewhere, but I can only report on what I bemusedly witness.

 

I refer to the fact that a significant number of our fellow residents are engaged in activities through the day that make it impossible for them to slow, let alone stop for a funeral procession. They are so in demand that it is incumbent upon many of our friends and neighbors to swerve in and out of lines of cars, all with lights on and those charming little orange or purple flags magnetically attached to each of them atop the roof, making it clear this is not just a bunch of people following each other to find their next stop, but something different.

 

The funeral coach with the coffin in it at the front of the line is kind of a dead give away.

 

Honestly, I'm being snarky because it's better than being unpleasant, but I have to admit to having a few unpleasant thoughts as I see fellow Licking Countians zoom out to cut off a family in grief, following their loved one's remains, almost not slowing in time to avoid a collision with someone who clearly cannot be expected to arrive at their destination two minutes later (and that's an overestimation, in my experience).

 

Passing on the left in a multi-lane context is legal, if tacky (if tacky is the right word); passing a funeral procession on the right, especially when it's on the shoulder – c'mon. Seriously.

 

If you see a funeral procession coming towards you on a two-lane road, turn on your lights, ease over, and where you safely can, come to a stop until the last car or truck with flags and lights on passes you. If it's a four lane, at least get over, no? And four lane divided highways certainly don't require oncoming traffic to stop, but I'd commend a gentle slowing and that acknowledging salute of your lights on as a simple message to the family and friends in the cortege that you see, you acknowledge, you understand.

 

If you're coming up behind a procession on a road, two, four, divided, whatever: think carefully about why or whether you think you should pass these people. They've almost without exception just been to a memorial service for someone they care about, at a church or funeral home, and are now going to a cemetery or mausoleum or sacred place of some sort to conduct the wrenching act of leaving there the earthly remains of that person they are mourning.

 

Do you really have to zip past them? You can keep your eyes fixed straight ahead, certainly communicating clearly your indifference to their plight; you can try to guiltily glance and jerkily nod your head, especially to the next of kin in the first few vehicles, and the funeral director and clergy in the lead coach, which really makes everyone feel uncomfortable.

 

Honestly, I don't want to say you should never, under any circumstance, along every type of roadway, ever pass a funeral procession. But you surely should always ask yourself "is this pass necessary?"

 

Or you might end up like the benighted, agitated tool who leapt around a long line of cars at the first opportunity on a two lane, curving rural road, and of course couldn't pass the entire procession before an oncoming truck forced them back over and now into the sad parade. Where they were stuck until the turn-off for the cemetery. Good job!

 

Snark aside, I'd like to close with this. Those of you who stop when you could have sped up, who slide onto the shoulder and stop and take off a cap when the hearse goes by, who turn on headlights and nod even three lanes over as oncoming traffic along a highway: to all of you, I want you to know that the family notices, and appreciates the gesture. They really do; on a hard day, it means something gentle and warm and real, even if they can't quite see your face and will never know who you are.

 

But they know what you did, and it means something to them.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's ridden in quite a few hearses lately. Tell him your funeral procession story at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes From My Knapsack 6-18-15

[Getting ahead for the summer schedule! Pax, jbg]

Notes From My Knapsack 6-18-15

Jeff Gill

 

Light in the east, wind in the west

___

 

In a few days, the sunlight will be as long and high and bright as it will be for another year.

 

Call it a summer solstice or "midsummer's night" or even St. John's Day, but there's a quality to this season that endures in the memory long after the sun starts moving at sunrise back to the south.

 

Rising now as far north on the eastern horizon as it will, as directly overhead at noon as it ever will get, the real astronomical quality most of us will observe is that morning begins so early, sooner than even early risers get up.

 

More of us note that as a mild inconvenience, it seems, with the real enjoyment being the long, leisurely evening stretching dangerously close to ten o' clock. Winter will come again, with dusk seeming to start about two in the afternoon, but it is a distant memory and a far-off anticipation. Let's keep it that way for now.

 

You might be surprised what an early riser gets to enjoy. Whether on a porch, a patio, or a walk to a nearby village bench, the riot of bird song with the dawn is musically thunderous. The growing light from the east starts to pick up the silvery trail of snails on stretches of pavement, glittering strings of dewdrops on spider webs, animal tracks almost as sharp on damp grass as they were in winter with snowfall.

 

Seeing a white tailed deer stroll by slowly, almost incuriously, is no longer a curiosity for village residents, since we all can see them doing that any time of day on the path up to Denison or even in our backyards. There are also raccoons and opossums and skunks peering out of burrows and hollow trees and storm sewer gratings, settling down with our morning as we do in the evening. Often great blue herons slowly beat their way across the sky overhead, their unique profile clear when you stop to look having noticed they aren't gliding on still wings like our more common turkey vultures.

 

From the earliest light, the runners fly by on a lower horizon, along the bike path or shoulders of roads or down the middle of your residential street. More of them these days are wired into their pods or widgets or whathaveyous, pacing to their own carefully selected beats. My running is sporadic and shorter, with just a small radio with an earphone and NPR, but I tend to distract myself with an audio soundtrack just as many do. It's not an activity where you're wanting to stop and say "hi," anyhow.

 

There are also many walkers, though they're more the second shift. Not as driven, not half so compulsive, often happy to not only say hello but to stop and talk about the weather and the light and the state of the world in general. Along Newark-Granville Road are many clumps of walkers who make good time, but a great deal of conversation. If you're on your way to work or whatever in a car, you pass them marveling at the amount of hand gestures it takes to talk to a group…and wonder if the aerobic benefit of the arm-waving along with the power walking has a cardiovascular bonus.

 

If you don't have to get off early to work, or aren't putting your exercise routine before your leisure first thing in the day, one thing is for certain: no coffee, no matter how sourced, how roasted, how made, can match a cup of coffee drunk early in the morning, as the sun rises, while sitting somewhere that asks nothing of you other than an appreciation of morning new born, long to endure.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him about your mornings at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

 

Faith Works 6-6-15

Faith Works 6-6-15

Jeff Gill

 

Some climbs are steeper than others

___

 

There's always more to say about mental health in general and behavioral health care options in the community.

 

Last week I was talking about pastors in particular, and more to all of us about being willing to discuss, to recommend, to commend getting help when a mental health challenge is in front of us.

 

We need to admit our need for help to ourselves, just as you know you're gonna have to get that ankle looked at when it can't support your weight, or get a few stitches when the cut is not going to heal with some butterfly bandages and some first aid tape.

 

Most of us, and generally families can tell when the quick-stop medical check or even the emergency department visit is called for. Some things you tend to at home, and other things you go, whether you really look forward to the trip or not, to have a professional look in and add their care to your basic needs.

 

So talking about behavioral health the same way we do medical health is a smart, helpful, healing way to look at ourselves. Some of that is reactive, knowing when to get that help in the moment; a great deal of it will have to be proactive, being supportive and understanding of why such help is on hand, and used by others.

 

This is where we hear talk of "reducing stigma," which is a fancy way of saying "get over yourself." Stigma is saying "you don't need a shrink" or "why would talking to someone who doesn't know me do any good?" It comes from the culture, it can come within our own families, it can have deep roots in our own assumptions that need pulling at and eradicating.

 

That's why we have groups like Mental Health America at work in Licking County, sharing information, telling stories, promoting hope. The Main Place is both reactive in being there to help people living with mental health challenges, and proactive in allowing those people to tell their own stories and participate in their own successful treatment.

 

A new voice in the field in Licking County is Postpartum Progress, a group addressing postpartum depression (PPD). The medical field tells us that one in seven women deal with some level of depression following childbirth, making it the most common complication today. Postpartum Progress is at work across the nation because they know that mood and anxiety disorders like PPD can be dealt with effectively if the mother is willing to accept professional help and support…and fathers need to support that acceptance, as well!

 

Locally, Postpartum Progress is participating in a very interesting awareness event called "Climb Out of the Darkness," at Infirmary Mound Park on June 20^th at 10:00 am. That date is no coincidence: their plan around the world is for communities to have such an event on a day close to the longest day of the year, the summer solstice. They want to "shine the most possible light on maternal mental illness."

 

This is the third year globally for this event, and the first year "Warrior Moms" from Newark and Licking County will hold their own "Climb Out of the Darkness." Christina Boeshart is coordinating our local walk, and you can contact her at momsforlife43055@gmail.com, or check out their Facebook page "mothersofferingsupport" for info on how to register or sponsor.

 

The key is that when women and men in general, and mothers in particular, are aware of the reality of PPD, and seek help, the overwhelming majority are helped. Or as is said throughout the mental and behavioral health care community: "Treatment helps, recovery happens."

 

And again, if you have concerns or questions, call our 211 hotline in Licking County; if you have an immediate concern for someone's life or safety, don't hesitate to call 911 or go directly to an emergency room. But there are answers, and there is help. As we like to say in the faith community, the first step is finding hope. My faith says that God wants us to use all the hope and help available around us, so that Good News may abound. Making use of mental health services may not just be good news for you, but it might be a witness that opens a door for good news to someone else that you don't even know is watching.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him where your help comes from at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

Notes From My Knapsack 6-4-15

Notes From My Knapsack 6-4-15

Jeff Gill

 

Having My Say, So To Speak

___

 

Thank you to all the people who've told me they enjoyed the 1815 tale of Granville, "A Body in the Well." Great literature (or reliable history) it wasn't, but it was a fun story to develop and tell.

 

This column, from when it was in the Booster to the years it's been here in the Sentinel, I consider both an opportunity and a responsibility. It's an opportunity to share stories and start conversations; and I see it as a responsibility to tell stories that build up our community, with a similar obligation to provoke conversations that bring people together, more than reinforcing divisions.

 

Of course, interesting narratives often start big disputes: intriguing conversations flame up and keep burning because of differences brought out into the light of the campfire. You can have a storyteller keeping the village up late into the night with an epic tale, or you can end up with someone getting burned.

 

Adam Weinberg up on top of College Hill likes to talk about "working across difference." That doesn't mean avoiding differences, whether of race, culture, or ideology, but it certainly isn't yelling across a chasm either. You could call it a dance or a process or an ethos, but it's always going to entail a certain amount of work (even though it's often quite fun). If the point of a community is to simply reassert and reaffirm and expand what we've already got in common, pumping it full of lukewarm balloon juice and calling that growth, you'll at best end up with a tepid gas bag with no ability to fly. Mix things up a little, using your head and your heart to add just the right amount of combustion and inspiration, and you might just soar.

 

Has this column helped our community soar? I'm not fishing, I'm just thinking out loud, and reading back reflectively over my own back numbers. I've made up stories about our past from the point of view of twelve year olds, looked at inscriptions and natural phenomena, raised a few points of controversy and hoisted more than a few commonplace sentiments up the flagpole to see if anyone salutes.

 

Why do I write this? I guess if you really wanted to know (and you've read this far), I'd have to tell you that my goals are actually fairly small and my expectations low. I'd like to encourage more of my fellow residents to spend a bit more time out of doors, appreciating what they see and smell and hear as they stroll and saunter. I hope to spark a love of literature to the point where anyone realizes that everyone can produce some, even if it's just a handwritten thank you note to a friend. I want to promote meals and meetings where we see each other face to face, frankly disagreeing and fully enjoying the experience of having done so, right down to the fight over paying the check.

 

I'd hope that I've given residents old and new a more vivid and deeply resonant sense that they live in a place that's interesting; for what it has been, and what it is becoming. As long as Grand Marshal Charles is willing, I think I'm not done yet submitting columns to try to fulfill those modest aims.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him what you think a column is for at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Faith Works 5-30-15

Faith Works 5-30-15

Jeff Gill

 

Treatment works, Recovery happens

___

 

 

In this space some years back, I mentioned that I've had a few colonoscopies.

 

Yeah, I'm sure you were waiting for me to get back to that subject.

 

No details, right? Right. But it was a necessary subject because, among other things, my doctor conducting the colonoscopy (is that right? do they conduct them? perform doesn't sound quite correct…) had read the column, and afterwards asked me if I would write about the experience. That it wasn't so bad, very tolerable, and oh yeah – they save lives, so go get them when your doctor calls for one, please?

 

Happy to oblige. A colonoscopy is a basic procedure, a minor inconvenience, and a lifesaving part of staying healthy, especially when you have a family history of colon cancer. Why not share that I've had more than one, and they're just not a big deal. People have assumptions and concerns and fears that make them put off colonoscopies, so anything I can do to reduce fears and encourage use of them when needed is a public service.

 

Well.

 

Folks seem to have some of the same issues around mental health care; fears and misconceptions around behavioral health services keep people from making use of the services that are available, or to give up when they're waiting for the ones that take some time to access. They see mental health issues as being a label you wear forever, because the problem sticks around and the treatment is either pills that make you dopey or you're spending decades laying for a 50 minute hour on a sofa telling a shrink about your childhood. In other words, people have some assumptions and anxieties that are largely based in stereotypes and confusions and frankly outdated images of what behavioral health care is, and does.

 

So may I note that I've made use of behavioral health in my life? Details aren't important; if you really have to know, get ahold of me, and we can talk, but I may tell you about my colonoscopy first.

 

But I have, both in college and after, made use of mental health resources to help deal with life and circumstances that were leaving me out of step and turning in circles in my life. I needed a solid, dispassionate listener who also could make practical, evidence-based suggestions about practices I could engage in and new patterns I could follow that would change how I responded to difficulties.

 

Or as the phrase in behavioral health goes: Treatment works, recovery happens. The biggest barrier I've noticed as a pastor is that even very smart people are somewhat stupid about what counseling and psychology and treatment or recovery are. They really do get stuck in movie stereotypes and old cartoon pictures of therapy.

 

If you think that mental health is just a life sentence of "crazy" and that treatment is no more than oppressive medications or mysterious conversations with someone sitting out of sight as you lie there answering questions, it makes sense to avoid pursuing treatment. But today, mental health care is complex and flexible and adaptive. It's very similar to talking about chemotherapy, which used to be largely one kind of awful experience, but now is many, many approaches with much more going on to make it tolerable – and successful! – than once was the case.

 

Starting with our community's invaluable 2-1-1 hotline, you have access to behavioral health supports in this community that can address a variety of issues, from depression to anxiety to addiction to major mental health problems. And pretty much all of them have effective, proven treatment strategies that work. You can talk to your family doctor, you can call Mental Health America, you can call 2-1-1 even if you're just wondering how to help a loved one, a family member, a friend, and say "help!"

 

And help is out there.

 

Odds are, that help won't be something you'll need for a lifetime. But if you do, keep in mind that an illness of the mind is really no different than any other chronic medical condition: if you walk with a limp, you walk with a limp. Get your physical therapy, and life goes on. The same goes for mental health hiccups that we all, at one point or another, can have.

 

For men who won't see a doctor about anything, that's an entirely different column! But if you need mental health care, make the call. Accept the support. It's there for you, and it works. Bless you.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's used mental health care services and doesn't care who knows it. Tell him what you don't care who knows at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.