During the recent orientation of my new job, customer service was really pushed. In fact, one of the top executives for the system of hospitals, spent at least an hour on detailing its importance. I thought he was overdoing it a bit. But as I continued my orientation at the hospital where I have my job, I immediately saw the effect of good customer service. As I walked down the hallways, almost every staff member would say hello. Every presenter for our various orientation sessions always introduced themselves and gave us a big welcome. I couldn't believe how much this gave me such a positive attitude right from the start. Part of this reminded me of my time spent in Burkina Faso because you would never pass someone anywhere in the village without greeting them. Also having come from an outpatient clinic where customer service was not pushed, the contrast in the employee attitudes was phenomenal.
The organization's buzz acronym is S.I.T.E. - Smile. Introduce yourself. Give Title. Explain. Now I guess I sort of did this in my previous job but I think I forgot the smile. It took me some getting used to now in 2 days on my unit, but I have noticed that the patients have really responded. Now there are some that nothing you do makes them happy, but that's the world for you! And as it is practiced in the hallways and with the patients, it rubs off onto the staff. I have never felt so welcomed in a new job as I have starting this one.
I think of the many times I have gone to the lab for blood to be drawn. It is usually full of people, you have to draw a number, wait for your number to be called to register, sit back down and wait again for your number to be called by the phlebotomy tech. I have gone there often in the last 8 months. I can't say that I remember any time that the employees have smiled or even given me their name, let alone apologize that the wait was over an hour. Therefore, I have developed a strong dislike of going to the lab, not because I am going to get poked, but because it has such an unpleasant atmosphere as the employees are rude and the patients are usually upset over the service. What a difference it would make if they would smile and say, "Hi, my name is ... and I am going to register you." or "Hi, my name is ... and is there anything else I can do for you today?"
I have to say the greeters at my church are pretty good at smiling and holding the door open for you. And they noticed when I was there for the first time. Also the church has started to have a time during the worship to get up and meet new people as a continuation of the worship. At first, I thought it was a major interruption of the service. But now I think this adds greatly to the community of the church. And I have met a few new people. On the other hand, I met a woman one day who said "Well, I just slip in late and leave right away when it's over. I don't know anybody to talk with." She does not know Jesus yet as her personal Saviour and since meeting her, I haven't seen her in church again. Guess I have a little more S.I.T.E. to do.
It all starts with one smile and a little bit of time. Wow, how the world would be different if S.I.T.E. became a routine part of life!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Again and again and again!
Last Oct, my car was sideswiped by a semi on the Ambassador bridge as I crossed from Windsor to Detroit on my way to work. Because of God's hand on me I was not injured but my car was totalled. As you can imagine, it was very difficult for me to go back on the bridge. That night, as I listened to some classical music with nature sounds in my bed, the following happened:
An open, green expanse. It is steep. The grass is green, bright, glistening in the sun. The sky is that beautiful rich blue with big, fluffy, white clouds. There is warmth yet the breeze is refreshing. Jesus and me - we are walking. The mountain peaks tower above us, the valley far below. We have walked a way along this vast slope. The sound of rushing water - a mountain stream coming down. The water sparkling in the light. The water rushing around the rocks. Fear envelops me. "Are we crossing that?" It's a long way down. The rocks are wet and slippery. "Yes." Jesus says. "Do you trust me?" I look again. The fear is great. My heart pounds in my chest. My brain screams "I can't." My heart softly says "I want to." Jesus says, "Come." He steps out confidently placing His sandaled feet on the rocks. The water rushes over them. He reaches out His hand. The nail scars are there. I gingerly take hold. His grip tightens. He is willing me to come. I can feel it as I look into His eyes. My heart now feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. My breaths are fast and shallow. I step out. His firm grip pulls me along. One step...two step... The water sprays on my shoes and pant legs. Six step...seven step... He pulls me across the final rock. My feet are back on solid ground. The relief floods through me. I am safe once more. Then Jesus says "Again." I say, "Are you kidding? Not again." He persists. "Again." I step out again. His firm hand pulling me along. Again and again and again. We go back and forth across that stream. Each time my confidence grows. Each time my fear lessens. Again and again. Then I am running across. Back and forth. Jesus stands and watches me. He is laughing. Such release.
And so, that is how I got back to crossing the bridge. Sometimes, small waves of fear come when I am coming around that same curve with a semi beside me - but I see Jesus and the fear passes. What are you afraid of doing right now? Reach out, grasp that nail scarred hand that Jesus is reaching out to you. Feel the strength of His grip. He will bring you through. Keep trusting. Soon you will find that great relief. You will feel the joy of Jesus as the relief floods your soul.
An open, green expanse. It is steep. The grass is green, bright, glistening in the sun. The sky is that beautiful rich blue with big, fluffy, white clouds. There is warmth yet the breeze is refreshing. Jesus and me - we are walking. The mountain peaks tower above us, the valley far below. We have walked a way along this vast slope. The sound of rushing water - a mountain stream coming down. The water sparkling in the light. The water rushing around the rocks. Fear envelops me. "Are we crossing that?" It's a long way down. The rocks are wet and slippery. "Yes." Jesus says. "Do you trust me?" I look again. The fear is great. My heart pounds in my chest. My brain screams "I can't." My heart softly says "I want to." Jesus says, "Come." He steps out confidently placing His sandaled feet on the rocks. The water rushes over them. He reaches out His hand. The nail scars are there. I gingerly take hold. His grip tightens. He is willing me to come. I can feel it as I look into His eyes. My heart now feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. My breaths are fast and shallow. I step out. His firm grip pulls me along. One step...two step... The water sprays on my shoes and pant legs. Six step...seven step... He pulls me across the final rock. My feet are back on solid ground. The relief floods through me. I am safe once more. Then Jesus says "Again." I say, "Are you kidding? Not again." He persists. "Again." I step out again. His firm hand pulling me along. Again and again and again. We go back and forth across that stream. Each time my confidence grows. Each time my fear lessens. Again and again. Then I am running across. Back and forth. Jesus stands and watches me. He is laughing. Such release.
And so, that is how I got back to crossing the bridge. Sometimes, small waves of fear come when I am coming around that same curve with a semi beside me - but I see Jesus and the fear passes. What are you afraid of doing right now? Reach out, grasp that nail scarred hand that Jesus is reaching out to you. Feel the strength of His grip. He will bring you through. Keep trusting. Soon you will find that great relief. You will feel the joy of Jesus as the relief floods your soul.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Struck by Poverty
Last night I watched Diane Sawyer on 20/20 telling the stories of 3 kids growing up in the poorest town of the US, Camden, NJ. New Jersey is also the richest state. I was deeply touched by the story of Ivan, a 5yr old, who is homeless and when asked at school, could not even say the names for lunch and dinner. He has rarely eaten three meals a day and sometimes has had nothing to eat. Billy Joe, a 17yr old, trying to finish his senior year of high school, working 5 hrs every night to earn money to help his Dad feed his siblings and being constantly pressured to join a gang. Moochie, the 8yr old girl whose father is an alcoholic, and whose grades dropped as she suffered from the stresses of her young life. My heart cries out - how can this happen in the United States, a place where sports players make millions of dollars a year and a 5 yr old barely eats once a day?
I have also lived for 7 years in the 3rd poorest country in the world, Burkina Faso, West Africa. I have seen children who cannot even go to school because their parents cannot afford it. I have seen little girls, taken in by the extended family, literally working as their slave. I have seen young people who have managed to finish high school only to sit around the market because there is no chance of getting a job. I have seen and met people who have had nothing to eat for months when there is a drought and their crops have failed. They literally boiled the leaves from trees to have something to fill their stomachs. My heart cried out for them - they had no choice as to which country they could be born in.
As I have reflected on these experiences, I ask myself what is the difference in "poverty?" I have very different reactions to Camden, NJ and Burkina Faso. You see, in Burkina Faso, there are no social assistance programs - there is no money in the country. The villagers want more, know there is more out there, but they have no way of attaining it. I guess I can direct my question of this type of poverty to God. For it is He who chose for the Burkinabe to be born in this country. In Camden, NJ, these children also did not choose to be born into the situations they were born into. But they are in the United States - a country with money all over the place. I have to direct this question to Americans - how can this be that children do not have enough to eat?
In both places I have seen the incredible will and desire to survive in people. I have seen them making the best of what they have. I have seen hope that somehow one's life could change. In Camden, I see children dreaming to escape their lives. They can survive the odds. But I kind of feel depressed about Camden. Despite those that beat the odds, so many cannot because they are given no chance. I just get vibes of negativity and discontent. Whereas in Burkina Faso, despite the utter poverty, people were content, living their lives with positivity. I have had encouraging vibes. I have been challenged by these gentle people who have found a way to accept the life they have been given. It's a hard thing to put into words!
I must say that the direction of my heart has changed. I was called for a time to bring God's love and provision to the people of Burkina Faso. I learned their culture and lived amongst them. But now I feel drawn to somehow bring some help and hope to those who lack here in North America. May God give me the courage to learn and to understand the heart beat of those who live here in great poverty.
I have also lived for 7 years in the 3rd poorest country in the world, Burkina Faso, West Africa. I have seen children who cannot even go to school because their parents cannot afford it. I have seen little girls, taken in by the extended family, literally working as their slave. I have seen young people who have managed to finish high school only to sit around the market because there is no chance of getting a job. I have seen and met people who have had nothing to eat for months when there is a drought and their crops have failed. They literally boiled the leaves from trees to have something to fill their stomachs. My heart cried out for them - they had no choice as to which country they could be born in.
As I have reflected on these experiences, I ask myself what is the difference in "poverty?" I have very different reactions to Camden, NJ and Burkina Faso. You see, in Burkina Faso, there are no social assistance programs - there is no money in the country. The villagers want more, know there is more out there, but they have no way of attaining it. I guess I can direct my question of this type of poverty to God. For it is He who chose for the Burkinabe to be born in this country. In Camden, NJ, these children also did not choose to be born into the situations they were born into. But they are in the United States - a country with money all over the place. I have to direct this question to Americans - how can this be that children do not have enough to eat?
In both places I have seen the incredible will and desire to survive in people. I have seen them making the best of what they have. I have seen hope that somehow one's life could change. In Camden, I see children dreaming to escape their lives. They can survive the odds. But I kind of feel depressed about Camden. Despite those that beat the odds, so many cannot because they are given no chance. I just get vibes of negativity and discontent. Whereas in Burkina Faso, despite the utter poverty, people were content, living their lives with positivity. I have had encouraging vibes. I have been challenged by these gentle people who have found a way to accept the life they have been given. It's a hard thing to put into words!
I must say that the direction of my heart has changed. I was called for a time to bring God's love and provision to the people of Burkina Faso. I learned their culture and lived amongst them. But now I feel drawn to somehow bring some help and hope to those who lack here in North America. May God give me the courage to learn and to understand the heart beat of those who live here in great poverty.
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