After my mother helped me memorize the Lord’s Prayer, she decided it was time for me to learn other prayers. Everyday prayers, where you sit and talk to God, tell Him your problems, ask for help, or pray for someone. She would pray for friends or family and have me repeat after her, in order to show me how to do it. Eventually she asked me if I had anyone or anything I wanted to pray for, which I did. I had a handle on it pretty fast.

I realized how important this was and that, even though we may not see it right away, it helps. It helps us, those we pray for, and those we don’t even know about. Fine—got it. What I didn’t understand is the fact that my mother ended EVERY prayer with these words, “And God bless a saw.”

What the what? I mean I went with it, after every prayer I recited the same words, God bless a saw. I remember my mom telling me that, even though we may not know what to pray for exactly, God understands our heart. He knows what we are saying. Well that’s great but why are we throwing a random saw into the mix? Even if you weren’t sure what to pray for, couldn’t you have picked something else? Why in the world would we need to bless a saw?

I imagined one of those round circle saws. Those were pretty dangerous; a friend of ours almost lost his fingers once. The best I could come up with was, we were praying for the saw not to hurt people. It was a stretch but that’s all I had. Apparently this was an important topic because we said it after every prayer. I was a kid, what did I know? If mom was praying for it, there had to be a reason.

If you’ve read my previous blog, The Lord’s Prayer, you’ll recall that I was a CHILD with a hearing impairment and my mother had a thick southern accent. Well, here we are just a little while after my confusion with the Lord’s Prayer, blessing a saw.

Finally, I couldn’t take the not knowing. After our prayer, just after blessing that saw, I turned to my mom.

“Momma, why do we have to bless a saw?”

“Bless a what?” She replied confused.

“Bless a saw, why do we do it?”

“What are you talking about? What saw?”

“I don’t know, you keep talking about it though.”

“When did I say anything about a saw?”

“At the end, you keep saying God bless a saw!”

“I didn’t say God bless a saw. I said God bless us all!”

Ah…. My poor mother. 

Compassion Fatigue in the rescue field is defined as emotional exhaustion, caused by the stress of caring for traumatized, abused, or sick animals. 

Other names for Compassion Fatigue are burnout, secondary traumatic stress (STS), secondary victimization, vicarious traumatization, and secondary survivor. It has also been described as the ‘Cost of Caring’.

Studies are beginning to suggest that animal care professionals may be number one in vulnerability to Compassion Fatigue and Burnout.

What causes Compassion Fatigue? Here are a few items to focus on today.

• Constant exposure to trauma

Having constant exposure to animal trauma is unavoidable in this field. At any given moment you will be handed or hear about an animal that was abandoned, abused, tortured, left to die, or will be in the process of dying. Often this scenario repeats itself daily.

• Dealing with the public

The public can be ignorant of these situations. Not everyone but there is a good chunk of the population that has no idea what’s happening in the shelters; or they just don’t care. There are also people that by no fault of their own, cannot connect with how you’re feeling. They just don't understand. Maybe they never had the opportunity to know the love of an animal. There are also those who are just ungrateful.

• Facing it alone

Facing this alone is one of the worst things you can do. Unfortunately, sometimes we have to. Or at least you feel like it. There isn’t enough time in the day or there isn’t a listening ear close.

What can you do to help yourself or someone else?

• Breath

It’s okay to be sad, afraid, or discouraged. You need to acknowledge what has happened or how you feel, if you need to cry; do so. If you find that you cannot handle this task, ask another volunteer to do it for you. I believe every rescue should have a policy in place or a room to retreat to if things become overpowering. You have to have an outlet, which brings me to my next example.

• Talk to someone

Facing this alone will not help you now or later down the road. It won’t help the animals either. Find someone to talk to; a colleague, friend, family member. Tell them what’s happening and how you feel. 

To the listener, here are a few things you can do to help.

Don’t ask them if they’re okay if you don’t care. If you ask someone suffering if they’re okay, they’re probably going to spill a lot of frustration and emotion on you depending on what they’re going through. The last thing you need to do is ask if you can help with no intentions of helping.

If they do begin to talk, LISTEN. Don’t interrupt, don’t share your unrelated stories, don’t tune out, and don’t make jokes to lightening the mood. If they’re asking you to listen, that’s just what they need you to do.

• Remember

Remembering these three things are crucial.

1. You’re trying your best with what you have.
2. All those animals you were able to save up until now.
3. All those animals will you save in the future.

Lastly, snuggle an animal. It doesn’t even matter what kind. They can all sooth the pain. My rescue friends know what I mean.

Join me next time as we dive deeper into Compassion Fatigue.
​
God Bless.

I was working the night shift in a grocery store with a friend of mine when these fellows walked it. My friend grew up in another country and there was no hiding it with his accent. He was funny and sweet but sometimes I worried about him. This particular night was slow and we were discussing a school related topic when I saw them walk in.

Three men with black army boots and trench coats walked through the doors. One had shorter hair while the other two had longer hair than mine. They carried a presence about them that gave them away as soon as they entered the door. My manager perked up and watched them walk past us towards the back of the store.

Now before we get into the ‘You’re judging them for their looks’ argument. I didn’t. Most of the kids I hung out with in school wore this same apparel and I loved them dearly, they were—in my opinion—some of the nicest kids to ever walk those halls. In all honesty I’d rather be around them than most people. What I judged was the air and presence about them; you could tell they were up to something just by the way they walked by. It doesn’t matter what they look like, its how they presented themselves.

Now that we’re clear on that..

My friend, we will call him Sam, also picked up on it and mentioned it. I told him to just stay away from them and he should be fine. I was hoping they didn’t check out through my line. A few minutes later they walked back to the front of the store and walked right out the doors. I figured they stole something and would run but they didn’t, they parked themselves right outside the front door and lit up a joint. A joint.

I caught my manager exiting the office headed towards the back. Sam followed him. It wasn’t long at all before Sam and my manager hurried back to the office, I watched as my manager made a phone call. Behind the glass I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I knew he was talking to the police. Sam trotted over to me.

“Those guys trashed the bathroom.” He said, “It’s a mess back there.”

Apparently these men had knocked over the trash cans, stopped up the toilets, threw toilet paper everywhere, and left the water running. Cute. I watched the men as I rang up customers. They stood there talking and laughing, finishing their joint. Sam went back to the bathrooms to clean up their mess. My manager was also watching them, waiting for the police to arrive.

In about fifteen minutes Sam came back.

“The cops are not here yet?” He asked.

“No not yet.” I told him.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He was headed for the doors when I stopped him.

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to go get buggies.” He said pointing outside.

“No Sam. Wait until the police get here. They may hurt you.”

“Ah you worry too much.” He told me in his thick accent, “It’ll be okay. I’ll just go get buggies and come back.”

“You better stay in here Sam.” I yelled after him.

Of course Sam didn’t listen; he smiled at me as he headed straight out the door right towards those men. What happened next was the most random thing I’d had ever seen (up until that point in my life). Sam walked by the men and smiled at them in greeting; one of them pointed to his smock and said something (of course I can’t hear it). Sam looked down at his smock and nodded his head, he seemed a bit confused, like what the man said didn’t make sense but he agreed anyway. When the guy said something else, I watched as Sam’s face flooded with panic. I could tell Sam said, “What?”

And then pandemonium erupted, whatever the man said last scared Sam enough to make him run. The three men took off after him.  I screamed thinking they’d kill him. They disappeared into the parking lot. I was just beginning to think they had caught him when he entered the front doors on the opposite side of the store. Sam came running across the front end of the store, sprinting as hard as he could with these men hot on his heels yelling, “Help me, help me!”

The terror on this kid’s face was unbelievable. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to react.

He exited out the door in front of me again, sprinting into the dark parking lot; still screaming. I looked up just in time to catch the confused look on my manager’s face. Had I not thought Sam was going to die, this would have been funny. Sam entered the opposite door for a second time, about halfway down the front end he looked at me and yelled, “Help me! Make them stop!”

Yeah, that’ll work, I thought. But desperate times call for desperate measures so I yelled, “Hey, stop!”

Brilliantly worded, I know. Don’t expect a lot from me when I’m under pressure. Sure enough, it went just about as well as I thought it would, they ignored me and chased Sam out the door again.

This time, they didn’t come back. My manager ran outside to find him, only to come back in a few minutes later smiling. Sam was right behind him. Apparently the police had showed up and saved Sam. He walked over to my register panting for breath.

“What happened?” I cried looking him over.

“They wanted my smock.” He gasped.

“They—what?”

“They wanted my smock. They didn't like the color green.”

“They were chasing you for your green smock?” I asked exasperated.

 “Yes, but I didn’t want to give it to them. It was mine.” He told me.

Oh Sam, bless your heart.

Somewhere in the 2000’s I walked into the State fair with my brother. The main reason we were there was simple, he was moving away in less than a week, so we were going to take this opportunity to hang out. When he asked me what I wanted to do, I stupidly said the fair. What harm could be done there?

Oh geez…

We did the normal walk around, checked out the farm animals and paid to see the biggest rat and snake in the world.
As you might imagine, I don’t do rides. The most I’ll do is the ferris wheel and carousel. I’ve never ridden a REAL roller coaster or anything fast in my life. I don’t like the feeling of having my guts jerked around. I don’t like the thought of not being in control, especially if I’m going over the speed limit. Now we weren’t clocked on this ride but I can almost promise you, we went above and beyond the respected speed limit.

Long story short, I found myself standing in line looking up at a machine called the Chain Saw. I know what you’re saying, why in the world would you get on that? Well I’ll tell you why. Remember that brother I mentioned earlier? He’s a jerk. Knowing that I was already upset he was leaving, he pulled at the heart strings. His exact words were, “I’m leaving in a couple of days, we may never get to do anything like this again. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

He wasn’t lying. To this day, I still regret it.

To describe this ride, I would say it was your normal chainsaw set up. There was the guide bar (for those of you who don’t know, picture the metal part the blades go around). The guide bar spun in a total 360. Then attached to the guide bar was the chain of course. As the guide bar spun, the chain whirled around the guide bar in the opposite direction. Attached the chain were the carts that you ride in. There were probably around ten carts in total. So you have the guide bar spinning a complete 360, while the chain pulled the carts in the opposite direction. To put the cherry on top, the carts themselves spun 360’s once you reached enough momentum. To the person that designed this ride, you sir, or madam, need help.

I remember standing there in line, I was mulling over things I could say to get out of it. There was a woman in front of us frantically asking everyone that made eye contact with her, if they’d ride the ride with her son in her place. Her son couldn’t have been more than ten years old and apparently she had promised him he could ride this ride; she was just now learning he couldn’t ride it by himself and her husband had decided to stay home—so tag you’re it, I guess.

Her group went first and I had planned on watching her board, until these furious drunken shouts rang through the air. I looked over to find two teens about to go at it, for whatever reason. Luckily the cops were on them before they could do anything and by the time I looked back, the woman was already gone. The ride had started and so had the screams.
The fair is loud, there’s always some type of blaring noise whether it be music, laughter, or screams. The screams coming from this ride however, seemed to drown out all the other noise. Normally you can tell the difference between a happy scream and screams of horror. Well, I wasn’t hearing anything happy at this point. I heard some possible heaving—as if the funnel cakes these people just ate were going to make a surprise guest appearance; but nothing happy.

I stood there listening, watching, regretting…

The screaming and the gagging sounds were soon over and the ride was being unloaded and reloaded again. I had just made peace with the fact that I was going to have to ride this thing, when I caught a glimpse of the lady and her son. The son looked a little worse for wear; he seemed almost in shock. My heart dropped to my stomach when the lady stepped out. She was a shade of pale I never knew existed, donned with a puke green accent. She stumbled forward away from the ride, almost falling on her face as the kid wandered off in another direction. The person manning the ride was trying to keep them together.

I turned around to leave.

Oh but don’t worry, my brother made sure I got on. The next thing I know, I’m being helped into one of those carts. The man loading us in said, “Do you have any keys or phones on you? Give them to me or they’ll fly out.”

Pardon?

He slammed the door shut and I realized just how trapped I was. As we were lifted further up, I took in the layout of this prison we were now locked in. It was so small you actually sat while standing and by that I mean, when they shut the door, your backside was pressed to the back of this cart by a metal bar that stretched across the length of the door. There was a small window in the front, I supposed to look out at the world one last time. Honestly that was your only option because the cart was so small, you couldn’t do anything else. My brother and I were literally pressed up against each other. It did wonders for my claustrophobia.

Once the ride was fully loaded our cart somehow ended up back at the bottom. I heard this engine kick on and I remember my brother saying, “Okay it’s starting.”

Thanks for the news flash. I opened my mouth to either say something witty or harsh to him (Can’t really remember at this point) when we were thrust upward so fast the back of my head slammed against the back of my seat. There was no time to scream, beg, argue- all my ‘what if’s’ went out that front window as we hurtled violently back towards the ground as we completed our first lap. Unfortunately, my common sense, dignity, and what little will to live I had left, followed the ‘what if’s’ right out that window.

When we were slung back up in our second trip around the sun, my stomach slid down to the tip of my toes to check out what color I had painted my toe nails that day. But it didn’t come back up. But with everything that was happening, I still wasn’t panicked because I had come to a brilliantly reassuring conclusion. My brother had been on numerous rides, he had gone bungee jumping and everything else. If this ride wasn’t affecting him then I should make it out of this fairly unscathed. And just like that, as if fate itself was waiting to be queued, we shot down towards the earth on our third round and the jolt knocked the wind out of him; making him curse.

I resigned myself then that I was going to die.

It took a little while to figure out that the loud obnoxious screams were coming from me. I remember crying out, “I’m going to throw up.”

But the problem with that was, I couldn’t. The food I ate earlier that day couldn’t figure out which way was up, so it just made disoriented circles in my stomach. I don’t remember what round we were on but we were being catapulted back up when I felt myself slipping. I managed a desperate, “I’m going to pass out.”

To which he replied, “No you’re not.” AND HE SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE—THE FACE!

If I hadn’t been so terrified at this point, I would have tried to retaliate. However my hands were gripping the bars on the front of this cart with a vengeance. I couldn’t have let go if I wanted to.

Finally, the ride came to a stop and our cart was once again at the bottom. I remember breathing heavily, trying to regain my bearings. It was over, we had survived. I remember my brother reaching over and patting my back reassuringly. He said, “You’re doing good. Now we just have to go backwards and the ride will be over.”

I remember screaming, “What!” Just as this ride shot off again, this time from the opposite direction. Instead of slinging me back into my seat, it plastered me up against the door. The door that, I prayed was secured tightly as I literally rode on it as we were thrust back up toward the sky. Coming down wasn’t much fun either. When we went up, I was stuck to the door, when we went down I was shot back up against my seat. How my brother managed not to be flung around like I was is beyond me. The worst part was, we seemed to be going faster than we did to begin with. Looking out the window I remember seeing a blur of lights but eventually the lights were gone and all I saw was the moon and then the patch of grass we were standing on before loading. That’s how fast we were going. The moon, the grass, the moon, the grass…

I had to get off this ride. The only person I could think of that could help me get off this ride, or had any power to get me off this ride, was Jesus Christ himself. In my mind I knew I had to ask for help, to pray, to talk to Him. But no words were coming to mind, everything was happening so fast I couldn’t process a single thought. So, in sheer panic and distress, the only prayer I could think of was one my dear mother taught me, the Lord’s Prayer. Now when you pray, you don’t have to pray aloud, you can just talk to God in your mind if you want. However, this time, I just wanted to make sure He heard me. At the top of my lungs I began screaming and shouting the Lord’s Prayer.

Our Father, who art in Heaven…

Another round thrust me back into the doors, I’m staring straight out the window through the bars, watching the ground
hurtle violently towards me. Or me to it.

Hallowed be thy name…

I remember the moon was full, if the cart turned just right it looked like you might just be able to touch it when you lapped over.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven…

At this point, I was pretty sure that’s where I was headed.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

My brother came to mind.

And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil…

I remember my dad telling me not to let him get me on any of those rides.

For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory forever and ever…

The ride came to a clunky stop, leaving us swinging at the bottom.

Amen.

Now for those of you who think I’m making fun, I wasn’t. In my time of despair that’s who I turn to, God. That probably wasn’t the best prayer to pray during that time but that’s the only thing I could think of.

Our cart was going to be unloaded next and I pulled my hands away from the bars. Well, tried to anyway. I pulled again only to realize my fingers had locked themselves around those bars and I couldn’t let go.

I yelled, “I can’t let go!”

My brother reached up to test my theory.

“Geez.” He cried as he pulled my fingers off the bars.

Just then, the door was swung open. The same man that told us to give him our keys and phones stood there waiting for us to get off.

“Are you okay?” He asked me as my brother nonchalantly hopped off the ride.

My only answer was sliding off the seat like one of those cartoons characters that turn to water. My brother picked me up and took me to the nearest chair. He was laughing, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. If I had had any wits left I would have hit him. I just wanted to move on and never speak of this to anyone.

The next day at church, our Pastor stood up in front of the congregation and announced, “I was informed earlier today that there is a new evangelist here with us today. She preached to thousands last night.”

I heard my brother snicker beside me.

“You didn’t.”, was all I got out before all eyes were on me.

Funny—real funny.

On a final note, I’d like you to know that while my brother lived in Oregon all those years, he made it a point to send me pictures of that very ride—every year when the fair came to town.

When I was in high school I worked at a grocery store. This particular day, I was running a self checkout. I was bored out of my mind watching these people struggle to work the machines on their own. I simply just wanted to go home and take a nap. It was then I caught someone walking towards me in my peripheral vision.

As they got closer I noticed it was actually two people walking towards me. I was hoping they’d walk by me but they of course, stopped right beside me. I had every intention of helping them until I caught a glimpse of them.

Standing beside me was a man in his twenties holding a pamphlet of some sort and he smiled at me. It was then I realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes. With the exception of a miserable attempt at a loin cloth, this man was naked.

Now I know who you’re thinking of. It wasn’t him.

I involuntarily looked this guy up and down once before I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Can I help you?”

This was about all I could manage. I was and still am, social awkward and this sent me over the top. I simply shut down.

Without missing a beat he held out his pamphlet and said, “I am the first born man child of our fairy play. Would you like to come watch it this Saturday?”

It was then I noticed the woman standing behind him. She was wearing a sun dress and was FILMING the whole interaction. She smiled when I looked over at her. I turned back to the man child, feeling pressured to keep strict eye contact.

“I have to work.”

It was a very dry reply but it was all I had left in me.

He nodded like he understood and slipped the pamphlet onto my station.

“The address is on there if you change your mind.”

With that they turned and proceeded through the store. They were walking through the freezer section when an elderly couple caught sight of them. They nearly crashed their buggy into the frozen pies as the two passed by them.

I turned back to my screen, unsure of what had just happened. Don’t get me wrong, I gave them props for marketing but I needed some type of warning for something like that.

It was about ten minutes after my first encounter when I heard my manger yell, “Are you kidding me?”

I looked up to see him running for the door; I turned to look out the front windows to see what had him so upset.

Evidently this first born man child had decided to live life to the fullest by showing the world what he had to offer. The windows quickly filled up with onlookers as we watched him streak across the parking lot with my manager hot on his heels. It only lasted a lap however before ‘man child’ jumped into a car and sped off, leaving behind his loin cloth for us to remember him by.

I shook my head in disbelief and walked back to my station. There was no way I got paid enough for this. That was also the most random marketing campaign I had ever seen.

I was in the middle of helping a customer with one of their items when I heard another commotion outside. It had been at least twenty minutes before the last commotion. Everyone was running for the windows again when I looked up. I heard someone say, “He’s back.”

I wasn’t going towards the windows again, if it was the man child, I had seen what he had to offer and was not interested.

Some onlooker yelled, “Oh my gosh!”

Another yelled, “What is he doing?”

I wouldn’t say I was tempted to look out the window; it was more of a concern now because of customer’s reactions.

“Somebody call the cops!”

That did it. I rushed to the window again just as one of the small islands in our parking lot went up in flames. Man child was gone and my manager was stomping the ground violently trying to put it out. I couldn’t hear what he was shouting but I could imagine what he was saying.

Long story short, the cops showed up, man child disappeared, and my manager came back inside; followed by the distinct smell of burnt rubber.

To answer your question, I never attended that play. I figured if that was the opener-I probably wouldn’t survive the actual show.