I am starting CPE tomorrow, my peeps. Clinical Pastoral Education. For 400+ hours, I will learn about pastoral care, examine what and why I do things, and minister. Minister. Walk with a family down to the morgue. Sit with someone who is dying. Or her father is. Or her child.
I am scared to death.
I am looking forward to it.
I am dreading it.
And yet ... I asked myself how I would feel if I got a phone call that it had been canceled? That I had all summer free to just laze around, read books, sway in a hammock?
I'd be dreadfully disappointed.
My minister friends call it "pastor boot camp." They say it is formative. Transformative. At the end of this summer, I will be better able to walk into a situation and minister, be there for someone who needs me.
I acknowledge all that. I'm sure that it the end of the summer, I will be grateful for the experience. But on this end of the equation ...
Well, it's kinda like someone says to you they're going to drop you in a vat of boiling acid. For 400 hours. But at the end of it, when they pull you out, you'll have the body and appearance of a supermodel!