When I taught Children’s Church, way back in the day, I made it a point to make time for the kids to pray. They prayed for themselves, their friends, their family, and anything that was bothering them or worrying them. I did this for a few reasons, to teach them how to pray, why we pray, and to show them that it really does help.

On this particular morning I asked the class if they had anything they wanted to pray about. One of my girls hand shot straight up, she waved it around urgently.

“What would you like to pray about?” I asked.

“I want to pray for my friend Dora,” she told me, “She needs help and I want God to protect her.”

Can do. I wasn’t sure who her friend was but if she needed help and protection then that’s what we will pray for. I planned to ask details later on the little girl, maybe she knew her from school.

So I began my prayer, asking God to be with her, help her, keep her safe, and provide whatever she needed to get through her trails.

I remember hearing the little girl at the table saying, “Yes, yes,” every time I asked for guidance and protection for her friend. She was really intent on getting the message to God about her friend.  

Soon the prayer was over and it was snack time. Our room was connected to the nursery and during snack time we would share our snack with the nursery. That day my sister and her friend had the nursery. I opened to the door to deliver the snacks only to find my sister and her friend, lying on the floor, tears streaming from their eyes as they tried their best to control their laughter. They covered their mouths to stifle their laughs so they wouldn’t disturbed the congregation right outside their door.

“What’s so funny?” I asked confused.

After my sister finally got herself under control, she explained that Dora was indeed the little girl’s friend but she was also best friends with millions of little girls around the world- because she was a cartoon.

Y’all, I prayed for Dora the Explorer.

​Eh—The heart of a child.

I was working in the pharmacy when one of our elderly customers, whom we had known for some time now, came in to introduce us to his new wife. It was a surprise to us because we hadn’t realized he was dating.

He deserved happiness though; he had lost a lot in his life and had been through some painful stuff. We all rushed down to meet the blushing bride, she was sweet and a little shy at first. She actually turned out to be very good for him in the long run. There were lots of questions after the initial hello. Where did you meet? How long have you been dating? When did you get married?

Turns out they had met just a few weeks ago and gotten married the previous week, they were just getting back into town. He was so excited to tell us all about the wedding and it was obvious he was in love. He beamed with pride over his new bride. Finally my pharmacist friend asked, where did you go on your honeymoon?

With a little more exuberance than necessary he shouted, “Straight to bed!”
​
Did you know that when sweet tea passes through your nostrils, it burns just like any other beverage?  

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.
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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.

Compassion Fatigue in the rescue field is defined as emotional exhaustion, caused by the stress of caring for traumatized, abused, or sick animals. To give you an idea of the epidemic that is now sweeping this nation, the average suicide rate in America is 1.5 per 1 million in workers. The suicide rate for an animal care worker is 5.3 in 1 million (says the American Journal of Preventive Medicine). This rate is the highest and is only shared by firefighters and police officers.

Compassion Fatigue is very real and people are taking their lives because of it. As an animal rescue worker, I want to help rescuers identify Compassion Fatigue, raise awareness of how dangerous it is, and the steps you can take to save yourself, a colleague, or a loved one.  I also want to bring awareness to those who are not in the animal rescue field; I’d like explain things that you can do to help because you might just be the only one that recognizes the signs.

Some signs of Compassion Fatigue are chronic physical exhaustion, depersonalization (detaching from yourself), irritability, self contempt, guilt, weight loss, headaches, difficulty sleeping, isolation, unwanted thoughts or flashbacks, sarcasm, your humor becomes somewhat disturbing, you begin to feel that what you’re doing doesn’t matter, or you’ve picked up some self destructive habits. Compassion Fatigue is NOT PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) but you do start to take on some of its symptoms.

This is not to say that Compassion Fatigue only happens in the animal care field. Compassion Fatigue is found in all areas of care taking, like nursing home care, cancer patient care, veterinarians, school teachers and many more. In this blog and those to come, I’ll be focusing on animal rescue workers and the affect Compassion Fatigue has on them. Keep in mind, Compassion Fatigue doesn’t just affect that person, it affects their family, friends, coworkers, and more; they just don’t realize what it is.

It is detrimental to catch these signs before it’s too late.

Today’s blog will focus on one way to protect yourself from becoming overwhelmed and lost in the madness before you even start.

We will be focusing on boundaries.

Setting boundaries not only keeps the work from bombarding you with pressure and uncertainty, it also helps you learn your limits. We all have limits, no matter what anyone says. No matter what you think- you cannot take on the world, especially by yourself. Not in this field.

You have to know your boundaries and your limits, learning on the fly in this field could be deadly for some. For example, which field would you handle better? Fostering healthy animals, fostering sick or injured animals, doing fospice (Fostering a hospice animal- one that is currently at the end stages of life), or could you do field work? There are many varieties of field work, which range from going out to capture stray cats for spay/neuter and then releasing them back or at the opposite end of the spectrum, going to devastated areas to rescue animals left behind.

Keep in mind, not all rescues have all of these areas. I work for a No Kill Community shelter, which means- no matter the case, they don’t put an animal down unless they have to. If it’s been abused and it is aggressive, they try to rehabilitate it. If it has an illness that will eventually be fatal but still has a good quality of life (with medications usually), they don’t put that animal down to make space. Instead, they send it to a foster home equipped to care for that animal until the time comes. If a natural disaster happens, they don’t euthanize the animals to evacuate- they send them to foster homes ready to give up space until the disaster is over. They also go into communities that do have to do this, empty their shelters and bring them here to save lives.

It isn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination, but they do it, for the animals. In situations like these, this is where you make your choice. What can you handle?

It’s okay to say no and it’s okay to be afraid.

But what if you’re already in a field you cannot cope with, what do you do then? Talk to someone, your manager, your friends or coworkers; let someone know what’s going on. Taking yourself out of the situation is the best thing you can do for you, let another volunteer take your place. There is no shame in taking a step back to regroup- in the long run it is better for everyone; including the animals.

Learning what you can and cannot mentally cope with is imperative. That’s your first step. Talking to someone is equally important. You’re not alone, you’re not at fault, you’re human- doing the best you can do with what you’ve been given.
This very brief example is one of many to come. If you have questions or areas you’d like to see covered in this series, please comment below. Join me March 24th for the next Compassion Fatigue discussion.

 If you or someone you know are having thoughts of suicide, please speak up. Know that you’re not alone.
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National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

I was about 5 years old when my mother decided it was time for me to learn how to pray. Praying as you know, is a big part of faith- or at least it is to us. She started out with the Lord’s Prayer, she would pray and I would repeat.

This went fine- I eventually memorized it. But deep down inside, something didn’t sit right with me. The Bible was a big deal, I knew that. I also knew God had it all under control- so who was I to question. Also, mom was mom; she knew what she was talking about.

However the more I said this prayer- the more it bothered me. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. We had just finished our nightly prayer beside my bed when I turned to her and asked, “Mom, where is He?”

“Where is who?” She asked confused.

“God, where is God?”

“He’s in Heaven.”

“No He’s not- you just said He wasn’t.”

I’d just like to insert here that I was FIVE, we were southern with a thick draw, and I also had a hearing problem. I eventually had to have tubes put in my ears it got so bad. (Read A Collection of Love, by Judy Camby to find out more about my surgery.)

And we’re moving on..

She looked down at me, “When did I say that?”

“At the beginning! Our Father who aren’t in Heaven.”

With her thick southern draw and my bad hearing, art had become aren’t.

“No, I didn’t say aren’t. I said art! Our Father who ART in Heaven. God is in Heaven.”

I couldn’t tell then but I imagine now she was probably stifling a laugh.

“Oh-”

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been hearing it wrong this whole time. She seemed pleased she had explained it properly and I understood. She was about to stand when I turned back to her and asked, “So what kind of art does He do?”
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KJV!!

When I was in high school, my cousin and I decided to try a new restaurant. If you think I’m an extreme introvert now, you should have seen me back then. After we waited some time for a table we were seated and I began to take in the layout of the place. It was crowded and loud, your normal restaurant feel. Waiters were scurrying about to help their guests and people talked and laughed at their own table or booth.

Most teenage girls try to look cute and keep an eye out for ‘the one’ but let’s be real, I’ve never really been one to do all that. People were lucky I wore makeup and brushed my hair. Plus, I have more important things to do; like eat. I didn’t find Mr. Perfect that day, what I did find however was my topic for my next therapy session.

They sat us at our booth, we got the one at the end and I chose the side that had a fancy little hook up attached to the back of my seat. It was a plate holder; I’m not sure why I noticed it. The thing was almost packed full of plates. I sat down and started looking through the menu.

Our order had just made it out to the table when I happened to glance over into the crowd. There was a woman walking towards our booth, she was a waitress there and she seemed to be focused on something. She was a larger woman, very beautiful-with a strong personality. She moved through the crowd intent on getting to wherever she was going. She stopped literally right beside my seat in order to let someone from the kitchen pass by with a tray full of food and for a brief moment we made eye contact. Which I try not to do for many reasons, this is one.

While looking straight at me she said, “Excuse me honey, I need to go beat this..” (Well you know.)

So let’s stop right there for a minute. On a side note, I have never in my life fought another person, nor do I want to. I don’t like conflict, I don’t like screaming and yelling, I don’t want to be shoved or punched. In plain terms, I don’t fight. You could even go so far as to say, I can’t fight. I can’t walk without tripping and you’ve probably read my blog about the ‘one’ time I did decide to run- spoiler alert: It didn’t work out. I’m not agile in any sense of the word. I’ve seen a few fights and it seems to me you’ve got to have some pretty good hand-eye coordination, which is another thing I do not possess. So I know better, I’d get killed if I ever tried it.  I’m more of a ‘stand to the side in wide eyed disbelief as things unfold' person.

This is no secret either. I have told my family, friends, and colleagues point blank, “If you’re ever with me, don’t get into a fight. If you do, don’t expect me to get involved. I won’t. I’ll be over in the corner praying for you or calling an ambulance but that’s going to be the extent of my involvement.”

So that being said, I looked straight back at her and said, “Okay.”

I’ll admit, it was something of a bewildered ‘okay’, somewhere between ‘stranger danger’ and ‘check please’. The lady passed by me and was gone. I thought that was strange and mentioned it to my cousin who just laughed it off. I had no clue why the woman was upset and had no plans to get involved, I just hoped whoever she was going for was ready. She was MAD.

I had a mouth FULL of mashed potatoes when all those dishes I mentioned earlier came crashing over in a sudden whirlwind of hysteria. At first I thought someone had tripped and lost their food, until I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the waitress throw this other girl towards my direction.

And no, I don’t mean she pushed her in that general direction or that the girl moved willingly in the direction. This waitress THREW this stick of a woman out into the middle of the floor. In their sudden altercation they both tripped over one another and fell. So now the waitress is on top of the woman, they’re screaming and yelling; pulling hair. Then they began to roll across the floor as they hit each other, and rolled RIGHT INTO MY SEAT!

It almost seemed to go in slow motion until I realized they were about to climb into my lap. I stood up quickly in my seat at the booth as they rolled under our table and then back out again. At that point, I’m done; I’m leaving. Or at least I want to but the problem is, I can’t. I’m cornered. They’re in front of me cutting off my only escape route, if I go across the table I land in someone else’s lunch, if I go over the back of my seat I land in a pile of broken dishes and behind me is a wall that goes at least eight feet before reaching the next booth. I’ve mentioned before I can’t walk or run, would it shock you if I told you I can’t jump either?  

Standing there on my booth seat I watched as this waitress tossed this girl around like a rag doll, under our table, over it- I couldn’t believe it. I looked at my cousin who was just as stunned as I was.

I remember yelling, “We need to leave.”

Like she could do something about it.

We were both stuck there as everyone watched these girls rip each other a part. Then out of the kitchen door tore this mass of testosterone (about 5-8 male kitchen staff) they flooded over the two women in order to pull them apart.

They were screaming, “Just stop.”

 I remember thinking, that’s cute.

Of course, the women didn’t listen and continued on. The show wasn’t over though, before these guys could get them apart another herd of men (who didn’t work there), crashed through the front door. They also had about five to eight guys in their group. Sorry I didn’t get a total count during all the commotion. These guys jumped the kitchen staff and an all out brawl ensued.

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.  Dishes and trays are falling, people are getting up and moving (not me though, cause I’m stuck!)

I was in the middle of yelling, “This is ridiculous,” while simultaneously doubting my life’s decisions up until that point, when another herd of kitchen staff ran out to help the others.

One of the men that had burst through the front door yelled, “Get off her, she didn’t start it.”

So apparently these guys from outside knew one of the women and thought the whole kitchen staff had jumped her? I have no clue. I still to this day don’t know what the fight was about.

Someone somewhere had called the cops and I noticed them walk in the door. And just like that, it was over. Everyone shot in different directions and the fighting was done.

Likewise, I shot off my booth and headed for the door.  No way was I staying there another minute. There was nothing that would stop me from leaving-or so I thought-until I caught a glimpse of who was standing in the doorway. The waitress stood there holding the door open for people to walk through. I was so stunned, I accidentally made eye contact again.

Recognizing me she said, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology. Even more, I appreciate the fact that she didn’t involve me anymore than I had been.

I managed a nervous little laugh in response as I slid out the door away from her. I simply wanted to gain access to the car- where I felt safe; which I did.
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And do you know what else I gained access to from that experience? Food poisoning-I guess they were too busy with other things to cook the food properly.