14th Century Poetry

Just sit there right now

Don't do a thing

Just rest.

For your separation from God,

From love,

Is the hardest work

In this

World.

-Hafiz

Another Night on 5 East

He called the nurse's station and asked for a nurse to come quick.
I looked around and no one was around to hear the request but me.
I knew she had been in bad shape.
Of course someone has to go check on her besides me. What if...
Hello? Anybody around? No?? Just me?? Ok, I guess I'll see if I can stall...

"We think she's stopped breathing. Has she?"
What? You're asking me? I'm just a student. There's no way I could possibly know that.
Wait yes there is...that's why I have this stethoscope around my neck.
But I can't tell if she's stopped breathing or not. Yes I can I'm 6 months from graduation. Anyone off the street could figure this out.
Ok just listen. I know what I'm doing.
Wait. I don't think I hear anything. They're all starring at me as if I'm supposed to tell them that.
The husband has tears in his eyes, the son is crouching over her face, the daughter is holding her hand...I can't tell them this. There's no way I have the credentials to determine if a person is still living or not.

Surely someone else has to be on their way. I can't possibly determine this alone.
Yes I can, listen for a heart sound.
But I can't remember where you would even hear a heart sound.
Yes, I do. Little children know what a heart sounds like through a stethoscope. Ok.
Wait..is that her heart? Is it still beating?? No. That's my own pounding through my head. Just calm down.
Feel for a pulse. Yeah that'll tell them the truth.
Wait..is that a pulse? No that's mine I can feel along with the sweat starting to form on my forehead.
I can't tell them she's dead. They are all starring at me. I have to.
I have to say it. They don't even speak English though.
That doesn't matter. Just a simple head nod will give them the sign.
IS ANYONE ELSE COMING YET????? DON'T MAKE ME SAY THIS!!

"I think...I think she's gone."

Talking with God

"I've been wronged"
"I know, I have too Megan"
"I've done wrong"
"I know"
"My world is so dark right now"
"I know"
"Why have things played out like this"
"So you could see me again"
"That's absurd"
"I know"
"I don't know if I can love like you and forgive like you"
"It's ok"
"I don't know if I can hope again"
"You will"
"I don't know how to get passed this"
"I know"
"I've spent too much time questioning if you're real"
"I know. I'm here though...and when you cry I'm there, when you drink to forget everything I'm there, and when you kiss and dream I'm there too"
"That's so hard to believe"
"I know, but look outside and look into the eyes of people...I'm there"
"Everyone left me"
"No they didn't"
"I don't know where to go from here"
"It's ok, you're not supposed to"
"I don't know who I am"
"I do"
"I don't know if I can give of myself ever again"
"I didn't think I could either"
"Why does it hurt so bad?"
"Just the way it is"
"Why is everything so messed up?"
"People mess up and get a lot of it all wrong"
"Does your heart hurt as bad as mine?"
"It always has"

The Human Heart

The human heart is clearly made of flesh. The spark of conception created cells that are solely responsible for its beat. The nerve fibers run continuously and reach every last centimeter of the human body. It never stops. It pounds against the chest wall in hopes of being noticed. And other times it does its work without a single thought.

It's utterly amazing the array of emotions that God created us to feel. We experience them fully. Happiness, sadness, joy, excitement, arousal, sorrow, loneliness, jealousy, depression, fulfillment, security, pain, and contentment.

"The human heart has eyes that the mind knows nothing of" The mind couldn't possibly know what these emotions feel like. Only the human heart can. The small, beating, aching, blood-pumping, life-giving organ.

It's probably intentional that the human heart lies behind the safety of the rib cage. The chest wall is it's fortress. The ribs are its fence. The surrounding tissues are its defenses. And the enclosed sac it lies in covers it like a baby blanket.

I can't help but think that although the heart has this God-given protection, we all still carry our hearts in the palms of our very own hands. It's fragile and made of delicate glass. A unique work of art that could not have a price.

And as we journey through our lives, we carry our hearts. Being careful not to fall, stumble, or slip. If by some chance we loose our footing, we clasp the heart so close to our chests, risking any other part of our body to be bruised except for the frail essence of our entire beings.

We walk and continue to walk. Joining the rest of humanity, who they too, are holding their beating hearts in their small soft hands. Doing only what we're doing, holding the heart while trying not to fall.

Some have their hearts in the same condition as the day they entered the world. But others are holding wounded, broken, barely beating ones. Some have left only replicas of they think a heart may look like. Others may have half of one. Some only have a vein or two left. And some lost theirs completely wondering if they could maybe borrow one.

We join arms and walk alongside each other. Trying to keep this heart safe, although these hands can not do as good of a job as the chest wall. But the person walking beside, keeps their eyes on yours. Maybe pointing out the potholes ahead, or catching it for you before it hits the ground.

Either way, the heart keeps beating. Pumping. Feeling. And if it gets broken, bruised, or damaged...there's always some left and therefore our hands still try to grasp its mysterious beauty.

This House stands for Freedom

These walls are a strong fortress and the roof is made of steel.
The floors stand firm for the flowing waters that come day in and day out.
The waters are sometimes calm and peaceful.
Other times they run full of rage and intensity.

The doors are slammed with emotion.
And the dry wall screams of passion.
The shower drain knows no difference between the running hot water and the tears cried of confusion.
The couches reek of love and the kitchen table knows nothing more than companionship.

The porch swing is filled with questions that we ask it everyday.
Swinging to the song we hear, but knowing not the melody.
Attempting to find answers in the surrounding nature.
Listening to the wind in order to see where it blows.


The pillows are soaked with desperation.
The closets attempt to give us self-worth.
And the mirrors look back at us with blank stares.
Never knowing where we're going or when we're coming back.

It's all an Illusion

I think this strength is an illusion. This courage is a mirage. And the independence is a joke. I've had so much time to think lately and it's almost like I sit down to think and just cross my fingers and squint my eyes and say to myself "alright....something happen" "do something right now" "figure something out right now" "ok...grow"
But I know I'm just kidding myself! I can begin the thought processes of what it is that I want to do, all for me, and what it is that I want to become, all for me, and where I want to go, and who I want to be around...all for me. It's a lot scarier and less comfortable and if that was the reason for all this...then fine. It happened.
I've began these thoughts. I've began to have strength, and courage, and all this fake independence I never knew I had. But again, I'm just kidding myself! I'm not that strong. I'm not that courageous. I mean I can be if I want to be. But I would rather just be weak and lay in someone's arms and cry out saying "I can't do this alone!!"

"She said stay with me, stay with me, don't leave me alone"
A cry from a song, a plead from a boy in a story, and the line my heart bleeds day in and day out.

It's not that I'm running away from facing the hard things, and it's not that I just want things to go back to how they used to be...it's just...I don't want to keep pretending that I'll be ok without him and that I'll be just fine looking out for myself. Case closed.

Professionalism, I Lack

What is professionalism? Is it hiding your emotions so the rest of the world can't see them? Is it keeping everything behind closed doors? Is it keeping from crying so loud that screams are forced out of your throat and you have to cover your mouth so that no one can hear you? Is it keeping your cool even though everything you seemed to have in your hands is quickly slipping through your fingers? Is it not putting your head down because the very place you are is the last place in the world that you want to be? Is it keeping yourself from sobbing like a child wherever you may be when someone asks how you are doing? Is it showing a fake interest in the thing you used to most care about and now you wonder if you want to even do it anymore? Is it getting out of bed even when you know that you don't have the strength to? Is it putting on your make up and doing your hair to look somewhat presentable or is it going to class in the same sweats you've worn the past 4 days that smell and your eyes are puffy from crying? Is it picking yourself up off the bathroom floor where you cried yourself to sleep? Or is it refraining from calling him so he can hear you break down there on the bathroom floor crying, and gagging, and throwing up, and crying some more? Is it knowing that he won't show up even though you did call him in this emotional state and begging him to come and he still said "No." Is it getting 4 bad evaluations in a row because your professors have noticed your lack of interest and desire in learning? Is it trying to peel away the covers to go to class even though you skipped a couple already for the day and called in "sick" to work?

If all these things define professionalism...then yes, that is what I lack right now.

Something to Believe In

"I believe in my strength and my resilience and my capacity to do hard things. I believe in my vision and my dreams and my ability to do whatever I choose to do. I believe in my very bright mind, my loving heart, and my woman soul. I believe in the clarity of my perceptions...and the astuteness of my insights. I believe in my knowing and the depth of all that life has taught me. I believe in my willingness to wait and to perceive the right time for action and the right time for letting go. I believe in my openness to my own and other's pain, facing it with neither denial, nor indulgence, but with grace and fortitude, and even acceptance. I believe that I can survive just about anything that life asks of me if I remember that I am a child of God, made in her image and held in her love. I am a woman believing in myself."

-Janet Quinn

Thanks for comforting me...
holding me while I'm crying...
being with me when I'm sad...
celebrating my birthday with me...
sitting with me while I'm upset...
complimenting my outfit...
noticing my haircut...
texting me...
calling me...
asking me how I'm doing...
giving me the attention I long for...
telling me what I need to hear...
giving me words of advice for myself...
buying me flowers and my favorite candy...
taking my mind off everything...
cuddling with me...
kissing me...
telling me it'll be alright...

....but you're not him.

Inspiration

"Cherish your solitude. Take trains by yourself to places you have never been. Sleep out alone under the stars. Learn how to drive a stick shift. Go so far away that you stop being afraid of not coming back. Say no when you don't want to do something. Say yes if your instincts are strong, even if everyone around you disagrees. Decide whether you want to be liked or admired. Decide if fitting in is more important than finding out what you're doing here. Believe in kissing."

-Eve Ensler from "I am an Emotional Creature"

Flying Alone

Today I saw a bird.
It was a lone bird.
Flying off into the sunset.

Usually this time of year you see birds flying in a V formation heading south for the winter.
They travel in groups. Looking out for one another.
The V stays together for the whole journey.
Who knows how long the trip actually takes.
It's quite possible that they stop for food together. Maybe resting for awhile together.

But this bird was alone.
It seemed ok though.
It probably knows how to take care of itself.
It stops whenever it feels like it. Eats whenever it wants. And probably has the most clearing thoughts that no other bird has flying alone.

But I can't help but wonder how much it probably wished it was in a V.
Longing to be part of it.
Wanting nothing more than to share the journey with others.

It will probably make it south whether or not it was with the V.
And maybe it'll meet up with another V along the way.
But it seemed ok for the time being.
Just ok...

I wish I was part of the V. Sharing the journey together. But for now...I'll be ok.

Clinging

I am deeply convinced that gentleness, tenderness, peacefulness, and the inner freedom to move closer to one another, or to withdraw from one another, are nurtured in solitude. Without solitude we begin to cling to each other; we begin to worry about what we think and feel about each other; we quickly become suspicious of one another or irritated with each other; and we begin, often in unconscious ways, to scrutinize each other with a tiring hypersensitivity. Without solitude shallow conflicts easily grow deep and cause painful wounds. Then "talking things out" can become a burdensome obligation and daily life becomes so self-conscious that long-term living together is virtually impossible...

With solitude, however, we learn to depend on God, by whom we are called together in love, in whom we can rest, and through whom we can enjoy and trust one another even when our ability to express ourselves to each other is limited. With solitude we are protected against the harmful effects of mutual suspicions, and our words and actions can become joyful expressions of an already existing trust rather than a subtle way of asking for proof of trustworthiness. With solitude we can experience each other as different manifestations of a love that transcends all of us.

-Henri Nouwen

Afterwards

It's harder to get up on the right side of the bed these days,
But steps in snow make me feel less alone.
In secret I'm still hoping for some kind of x-ray vision,
And I would beam into your bedroom blinds just so I knew you were alright.

Acting mature is overrated
I miss the days of keying cars
And spreading rumors on the bathroom stalls and locker room walls
Where we forgot we looked, when we were hoping no one noticed
Praying some day we'd fit into this-- mess.

It won't be long before I forget just what it felt like
To fall asleep with you breathing next to me.
It won't be long before I forget just what it felt like
To fall asleep with you breathing next me

I shut the door when you left to keep out the cold and myself
from running after you just like I saw in the movies
It's true that I have my regrets,
We never danced on rooftops
And I have found some fake words
to say when a stranger asks about our death.

It won't be long before I forget just what it felt like,
To know that I did not know anything.
It won't be long before I forget just what it felt like
To know that I did not know anything.

Its safe to say that even though we're disregarding,
I can't help but to wonder which song you're humming.
And so I sit and pretend I don't mind that I don't know you,
or what you're schedule might look like on any given Thursday afternoon.

Somebody wrote this rulebook and so we will make the effort,
To be more scarce in the social situations that we might share.

It won't be long before I forget just what it felt like,
To feel anything for you at all.
It won't be long before I forget just what it felt like,
To fell anything for you at all.

In lines at grocery stores I'm dozing off into your arms,
And I hope some days you can't help but doze off to me too.

Shame and Sorrow

My heart cried today.


I'm in the middle of OB clinicals. And for the most part it's pretty interesting. The "miracle of birth" and all is cool to watch. And its so special to see the small, helpless, very fragile beings we all once were.

But I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in the work I'm about to go into.
I hate the politics. The gossip. And yes, even the judgement.

My profession is caring for people. About people. And I can't help but feel frozen and broken when I over hear the talk that goes on.

The gasps we take when hear she's had over 200 sexual partners.
The frustration we feel when she doesn't follow the health regimen exactly as we set it out for her.
The judgement we pass when she doesn't know who the father is.
And the scough we take when we know she has STDs.
I can't help but wonder why the nurse who's taking care of the patient I'm assigned gives me all the information I need to know about her, such as her vital signs and progression of labor...and then mentions the father is bi-racial.
Why does that even matter?
Why do we talk bad about her when she doesn't want to bond with her new child right away? Maybe she doesn't know how? Her life has just changed significantly.
Why do we pass along the stories she told us about how the father of the baby threatened to kill her and don't make her feel safe and loved? Instead we say she just made a bad choice in a man.
We make jokes about how maybe she'll end up on Montel.
And when that baby tested positive for marijuana, all we do is expect her to shape up her life and guess how long it'll be before the baby gets taken away from her.

We are supposed to be the people of Compassion. Justice. and Healing.

I tell myself maybe they're just ignorant. But loving people shouldn't be this hard.

I've never felt more shame and sorrw for my profession than today.

I don't want to go through this.

No one asked me for my permission.

No one asked if I thought this would be "ok" or "the best thing right now"

I was doing what I do best...

Caring for people.

Caring for someone else.

When his heat wouldn't work...I went out and bought him space heaters just so he'd be warm.
When he wouldn't wake up on time...I'd call him.
When he was trying to figure out how to run a business....I took some weight off by counting all the money.
When he decided to take a weekend trip....I took him to the airport and picked him up.
When he was getting sick...I made him drink gallons of orange juice.

I don't know who to take care of right now since it just all doesn't seem good enough. Its like I showed up to work excited to start the day and the boss said "Forget it, just go home."

"But wait, I only planned to work today. I have nothing else to do. What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't worry about it. Just go."

But wait...I.....care.

I'll say it again....I....don't....want...to....do...this.

Greener Grass

Everyone dreams of the "greener grass."

Admit it. We all do.
Whatever situation you might be in...you're thinking of a better one.

If you're in school...you wish you were out. If you work all the time...you wish you didn't. If you're hanging out with friends...you wish you could just have some time alone to think. And if you're alone...you wish somebody was near. If you're carrying a couple extra pounds...you wish you could get rid of them. And if you're living your life exactly the way you want...you still at least dream about moving to a different city.

Why does this desire lie at the core of every human being? Is it a manifestation of our childhood imagination that has just simply matured? Maybe it is a drive to keep us going...living life...striving to become something better than what we are. I don't really know what the explanation is.

Whether this aspect of our humanity is beneficial or detrimental is the question. Maybe this just leads to constant state of dissatisfaction. Or maybe it keeps us aware of what we could be achieving. Maybe being drawn to the "greener grass" makes us open to change. Or does it set us up for disappointment?

And the hardest question of all is knowing what to do with the images of just how green that grass could be. Do we chase after it? Or do we know better? Or do we lock them up in the back of our minds? Or try to find out if the grass actually feels smoother, smells fresher, and really is just more green.

I don't ever want to grow content with the things in my life. But I'm wondering if there's a line to draw in wishing for the things that we actually know couldn't get any better...but still wishing they were.

Dreaming

I can't stop dreaming lately. I dream in bed at night. I dream during class. I dream while driving. I dream when I'm with friends. I dream when I'm doing homework. There's so many dreams in my head...I just feel anxious to make them all become reality.

My dreams somewhat contradict each other...but I'm ok with that.

One dream is me as a big city girl walking along a downtown sidewalk with trendy boots clicking to the sound of independence. I just left my flat where my small dog keeps me company. I'm walking to a coffee shop to read for a bit, maybe write...then I'm off to explore a market for fresh fruits and vegetables.

Another is traveling to unknown places, partaking in customs and traditions I've never known before. I'm nervous at first but then the locals take me in as their own. We share life experiences and connect deeper than any differences or prejudices may take us. I may pick up an accent or local words outsiders don't recognize...keeping this experience with me for life.

More include my bare feet running in an open field of wheat during the sunset simply enjoying nature. I'm watching the sunset and feeling the cool earth beneath my feet. I know my body and my body thanks me for taking care of it. Everything is in balance...my emotions, spirituality, energy and the like.

Another is me coming home to a big house full of a community of people. I'm happy to come home and we all chat about ourselves and connect in all sorts of levels. Nothing gets in the way like t.v. or the internet. Just laughing and talking and tasting food we made together. Maybe gathering around a bonfire when the night gets cool.

I hope I never stop dreaming.

meg

Four long years

em-pow-er

to equip or supply with an ability; enable


To be empowered is maybe one of the best feelings to experience. The light feeling in your chest, deep breathing through your nose to take it all in, the sudden strength your abs can hold, the sparkle that reflects from bright wide eyes, and the feeling your blood is pumping so fast and hard as though you could take off running.

This past week I was empowered. I felt these feelings and felt unstoppable.

I was at the hospital this past week in clinicals, defined as a 'student' experiencing the fears of being in the way, questioning whether I'm doing anything right, and if my work is in anyway beneficial. It was then, someone came around the corner and said "Hey, you wanna start an IV?"

"Me?" Um..."I've done it on a dummy before, so I think I could"

But with a little reassurance and patience...I got it!!! Such a small moment but I felt amazing. As if the training wheels just came off, or my curfew got moved back a little.

It was later my professor looked at me and said..."You're ready to do this." And those feelings of tears were at the threshold of my eyelids and every nerve in my body agreed with her.

She was the same professor that was with me as a sophomore, when I had just put on my blue scrubs for maybe the first or second time, nervous to go talk to patients because I felt so small and couldn't figure out how to get the plastic covering over the thermometer. We laughed about that and she just stared at me and said "yeah, you're ready."

I'm not sure how many professors look at their students and say that. But mine did and she has no idea the feelings I left the hospital with that day.

And the funny thing about being empowered is that you just want to give the feeling away to others.

meg

Big Hill, Little Girl

I love walking back to my house. It's just off campus behind a really big hill. And walking towards the hill you can see my house. And while I'm walking home I see my house in plain sight and I begin to think through the things that have been on my mind all day such as the homework that needs to get done, the food I need to fix for myself, the relaxation I hope to experience before I end the day, the chores that need to be done, and the organization I do before starting tomorrow.

My mind makes lists and my drive to living is checking them off. But about this time in the walk when I've made all the lists and assigned a clock to monitor the time to complete the lists, the sidewalk I'm walking on goes to the side of that big hill. And suddenly I can't see my house anymore. And I can't help but notice how small I feel walking beside the big hill. I can't see anything on the other side of it. It's just me and the hill. And when its dark, its just me. I smile at the fact that this hill has made me feel so small. Like a little girl. And then I forget about the lists. And if I were as small as I feel then I wouldn't worry about the homework, I would just play. And little girls don't think about bills or a time schedule.

I'm thankful for the hill by my house. It reminds me I'm not as old as I try to think sometimes.

meg

Surround Me

2nd week of school. I'm already overwhelmed, which is incredibly ridiculous because I sat out this year with a mindset to enjoy the ride and take it one day at a time. And on the 6th day of class...Yeah 6th...I cried...In class even. So dumb.

I'm the queen at getting myself worked up over nothing. And I know that I'll be able to get everything done like I always do, but man. Within the very first week of school I was assigned 2 group projects, a 15 page paper due by October, and 12 page journal, and the first test is coming up in a couple days with....12 chapters on it! All for one class by the way. It was all I could do to sit in class and try to pay attention. Oh. And I'm in the exact same classroom...same teacher...some students...same desk all day. That's enough to drive a person crazy. It eat breakfast, lunch, and some snacks all in the same desk. My mind races with ''I need to get started on all this! I need to see what my friends are up to! I need to rest! I need to be involved on campus! I need to sleep! I need to invest in relationships! I need to eat! I need to enjoy the weather!'' All so overwhelming. (and I'll admit I do it all to myself)

Every year the school of Nursing has beginning of the year breakfast convocation and this year the Dean spoke about taking care of yourself through all this mess we call education. I've tried so hard to be conscious of this, especially last year, but then she went into explaining that its not just eating right and sleeping occasionally to take care of yourself...

...It's letting people help take care of you.

It seemed to resonate with the whole room full of people who's life career goal is dedicated to helping and caring for others. My spirit was silent and alert to what she was saying.

There's people surrounded around me that are willing to care for me and its just me who needs to recognize that they are full of the capability to care for me when I need it most. Whether that be a hug, going to get coffee, making dinner, or just listening to how its going.

So I have a plan to ask those certain people I have closest to me to help take care of me this year. Help calm my mind. Remind me life is full. Give me a breath of reassurance. And refill my desires when they seem to be drained.

If you're reading this, you're probably one of those people. Most likely I'll need your help and I've never really known how to ask for that before now.

meg

Talking to Pictures

I begin a new school year. And once again, the beginning of something new is fresh and exciting and I feel ready for battle. I love getting a new schedule. I kind of enjoy getting up to start the day, eating breakfast, and packing a backpack.
I only wish my mom was around to take my picture by the front door before I left for the first day, like she has for my whole life until I left for college. I like looking back through those pictures to see that big bright smile and bag on my shoulders, having no idea what I was going to encounter that year. If I could only tell that picture of outdated clothes and funny bangs what she'd be challeneged with and and what to be be aware of to learn so she doesn't miss the moment. Along with enjoying the ride and things to avoid. Things to no get so upset over and other things to take hold of by the reins. And to truly take advantage of the paths that cross because she'll eventually keep moving and so do they.

Oh! If I could tell those pictures of me before EVERY school year! There might be less heartache, more joy and adventures, and way less emphasis on the things that girl has been told to care about by the world and more value placed on the things her heart desires.

And if only....ONLY! I had a picture of me on my first day of school this year...my senior year of college and I could tell her the things she's about to encounter, and learn, and feel, and be challenged...and the list goes on.

It's funny to me that every year of college I begin the year excited and ready to learn. Committed to reading the material set before me in order to engulf it all. Ready to study to excel. And happy to be in the community that I am. And when the middle of the semester comes and the end does not seem near enough, I feel like I'm drowning, ready to break, and desperate for an escape.

I wish I could tell that 21 year old, blonde hair, wide eyed girl in the picture not taken this year standing by the front door of her very own place that the drowning feeling will come, and somehow she will make it just like she always has. So if she knew that ahead of time maybe she'd enjoy one of the greatest times in her life and know that the homework will somehow always get done, the friends will never leave, and life will unfold just as it always has and still does. Then maybe her excitement and joy will remain.

meg

Sobbing and Driving

Today at work on the oncology unit...
a little old lady broke my heart.

She had been in an immense amount of pain all day long.
The kind where she just ached with the slightest movements.

But it was time for her to go downstairs for an xray and we had to move her from her bed onto a cot.

She had some visitors, maybe 5 or 6 of her friends. They were all talking up a storm and chatting away to each other since that's what visitors do.

The room suddenly became busy with the task we were trying to accomplish and maybe 3 other staff memebers were in the room, busy figuring out where to put the cart, move the IV, and the like.


The room was loud and full of people.
It was busy with everyday toils and troubles.
But in the middle of this commotion she gently reached up and touched my arm and softly said "would you just tell Jesus to come and take me already?"

Tears welled up in my eyes and my heart sank.
No one else in that caotic room heard her but me.

...Days like this make me sob on the drive home.

Truly an Honor

My very best friend got married this weekend and it was a pretty big deal for me. We've been through a lot together and what a huge milestone to be there for. I was her maid of honor, which is so special because I'm pretty sure we made a promise to each other in jr. high that we'd be each other maids of honor. And when I started thinking about...it truly is an honor (maybe that's why they call it that.) So I decided to share the speech I gave at the reception just because 1) I thought it was a pretty good speech if I do say so myself and 2) to show just how good of friends we've been.

"Lindsey and I met in Kindergarden, but our relationship started to actually developed in 2nd grade. We had our desks right beside one another and we called each other our "study buddies." Lindsey got sick for awhile and had to be in the hospital for quite sometime and it wasn't until then that I really started to miss her for some reason. I cried one day in the middle of class because I missed her so much so I was sent to the counselor's office to "talk about it." The counselor came up with an idea to help me not miss her as much and so she traced me on some posterboard and I cut it out and decorated it as if it were Lindsey. I called that my "Fake Lindsey" and sat it in the desk right next to me until she came back to school. In 4th grade, Lindsey and I figured out a way to help each other cheat on our pop quizzes. And in Jr. High she was the friend I could rely on to always tell boys when I liked them and if they liked me back. In High School, I don't know if there was ever a single class we were actually allowed to sit by each other in because we always got in trouble for talking too much. We've never missed one another's birthday. One year, Lindsey actually waited to have her own birthday party just so I could come to it. I've spent more nights at her house than I have my own, and I'm pretty sure my parents owe her parents money for the groceries I've ate. When it came time to go to college, we sadly had to go to different schools. But, there were definitely phone calls to help ease the difficult transition. We've even made the long drive a couple time just to cry to each other when things are hard and we still make lunch dates just to catch up.

I share all these small details about Lindsey and I's relationship for a couple of reasons. Mainly, it's because I just don't want to share her.
But she's an amazing person who could help you out with whatever you need. You can trust her with anything, whether it be a secret or a big decision and....she'll never leave your side."

As you can see, Lindsey means a whole lot to me and I love that God gives us friends like this that just aren't there for the big day, but everything that leads up to it and all the rest that follows.

meg

Wrestling for Peace

Today I feel peace.

...and i'm not really sure why. But it feels fantastic.

Actually it's because someone told me the truth yesterday. That:

"The wrestling is all a part of it"

This kind of truth no one has ever really spoken to me before. Not my parents. Not any past experiences. Not even Disney or those silly romantic comedies.

Why has no one spread this truth around?? Better yet, what's the lie I've believed for 21 years! That the wrestling is uncalled for or some kind of sign that something is very wrong here.

The wrestling seems to be what makes it all worth it. And I feel at peace with that.

Here's a quote that I came across as well:
"Part of the beauty of life is the reirth of peace following turmoil and pain" -Lee Ann Hoff

So I guess if I just expect times to wrestle the rest of my life...then they'll be times of peace to follow.

meg

Absolutes

Living a life of absolutes. Is that what we long for? A foundation to stand our feet on, a structure to lean against, or just a general idea to know where we're going?

I was trying to think if the awkwardness experienced in middle school/jr. high was better or worse than the sense of awkwardness I feel in this period of life right now: A lack of general direction. Uneasiness as to what path to walk down. Hesitation that any or all of the decisions I make may be wrong or not the best.

I know in a couple of years I'll be past this stage and looking back upset if I don't embrace this time. Everything just seems so uncertain. The most stable thing I have right now is that my lease lasts for one entire year. But anything past that is one big ???

I've always lived a life of absolutes. My dad has always had the same job. I've lived in the same house. Gone to the same school for all 13 years. I've always known I want to be a nurse. And the biggest decision I ever had to make was whether to keep playing flute or quit the volleyball team. Ha. How silly that seems now but I'm pretty sure I cried over it.

I think I'm beginning to realize that the more I try to sit down and figure this all out I just waste time and make myself anxious. So I'm making a pledge to love it right now and honor the mystery.

That's probably why I get urges such as jumping in a car and driving to Boston. I hope that never fades, nor the unique person who brings that out in me.

meg

Independence Day

July 4th. A day that will forever be ingrained in us as Americans to celebrate or at least recognize. We can't even really help it. Businesses are closed. Grocery stores are packed with people. And even if you tried to live in a shell...you'd at least hear the fireworks. But for what?? Our "Independence"? Our "Freedom"? The lie we tell ourselves that we're no longer "suffering"?

This holiday gets sillier and sillier the older I get. And it's simply because I'm slowly realizing that we're not as independent as we think we are. We're not "free" in ways we wish we could be. And suffering? Take a look around.

June has been a month of brokenness for me. A heartbreak. A reality check. A refocus on my life perspective. And I've had it so programmed in me to not share any of it. So that I appear "independent." And to have pride that I "figured it out" on my own. But this 4th of July, I hit rock bottom and thought that this whole theory is a lie someone told our country and we fight everyday to try and believe it.

I hate being weak. I hate even more to have people see me at my weakest. No one likes to "seem" helpless or cry out for help in moments of desperation. It's the American way-to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and keep trudging through this hard knock life. But something inside me has wondered if this way is really working for all of us. It's not for me. And that's a confession.

Every shower I've taken in the past month, I've sat on the floor crying for 20 minutes or so hoping no one can hear. I hold back my tears when I'm with friends. And when people ask me how I'm doing I'll just mention that I've been working a lot. I struggle wanting to be in Anderson because its a place that is making me stay in this weak state for the moment being, so I'll constantly make plans with friends in other cities to get away. And this July 4th was the epitome of it all: maybe the weakest I've been yet. 11 people stayed at my house for the weekend celebration...and not one of them probably knew that I cried myself to sleep or left the parade early to be alone. And the next day when I laid in my bed for literally 6 hours I decided to run away. I went crazy. I got in my car and drove to the interstate, not having a clue what I was doing. I knew I had snapped. I knew that I was weak.

I was headed toward Louisville, only because I saw a sign and an hour and half into it I stopped to think how crazy I actually was. My phone rang and it was my grandpa who I rarely talk to and he said he was just wondering what I was doing. I had to lie and said I was with friends. But it hit me that there was no need to keep pretending like I was this independent. I was alone and scared and missing out on a cookout simply because I don't let people see me when I'm weak.

I'm a perfectionist by nature and it's always driven me to the grave. How in the world did I get this idea in my head that it's all got to be together? Don't let anyone see me like this? Get the wrinkles ironed out so no one notices?

It's with this realization that I pray our relationship grows from dependence...not just on each other but from the support around us. The conversations I've had in the past month have been the most meaningful that I'm sure they ever could have been without this bump in the road. And for the people who are watching, reconciliation is happening before your very eyes. I want to thank every single one of you for the support you've given...whether you know it or not. It's huge. Life marking. Needed. For both of us.

I made it back to Anderson just in time for the fireworks. And I watched them burst in delight thinking that I tried to run away but ended back home. My home of support...of growth...and of freedom to learn how to mend the broken pieces back together. 

meg

Lost

Everyone knows that feeling when you've lost something. You dissect your entire brain with some hopes you'll remember where you had it last. When I was 8, I was playing in the yard and I noticed that one of my favorite necklaces had fallen off. I got so sad because it was my favorite necklace at the time and not many 8 year olds have jewelry so it meant a lot to me. I was crying and looking all over my big back yard for it, thinking it would just jump out at me. I was on my hands and knees, feeling all around in the grass and finally my mom had to tell me that its really hard to ever find jewelry in the grass since it could be anywhere, so I should probably just realize that it was gone. I didn't want to accept that so I retraced my steps. Every step. I looked in the sandbox because I had been there before. I went to the front yard, even though I had only been in the back yard...but you never know. I looked in my room. Back outside. Back in my room. Back in the sandbox. Nowhere.

That necklace had no significance in my life at all as an eight year old. In fact, I can't even remember what it looked like. But I do remember the search I spent trying to find it. And I've been like that ever since. Maybe everybody is. There just seems to be some kind of deep hope that maybe...just maybe...it'll turn up.

That search to find something you've lost. The desperation felt that hopefully its not gone forever. The frantic panic of hoping its not too late to get it back. The hope that it will be found and everything will go back to normal as it was before.

These feelings come out of me when I lose my favorite pen, the big green water bottle I keep with me, my really pretty pearl earrings, and one of the greatest friends I've ever shared my life with.

These Flowers

These flowers represent grace.

They represent friendship and love.

Most of all, they represent hope and forgiveness.

What do we do when we feel like a rug has been pulled right from under our feet? My mom tells me that's all life really is--Just going along believing everything is shimmering in the sunlight...then suddenly you're on the floor, dirt under your nails, and a big bruise you didn't ask for. And you somehow know that whatever that was is going to hurt tomorrow.

I've been searching, asking, and even crying out for guidance. I've asked all around for a story I could relate to and follow the steps exactly...to know what to do next. But there is none, or at least I haven't found it yet...secretly I'm thankful because that means I get to write it myself. But where do I go from here??

To guard one's heart or to give it up to love...hurt...break...bleed...heal...and bleed some more. That's the question. The decision. The risk. The fear.

There's a sacredness in questioning everything, but sometimes the process of it leaves us in a fog that seems to take a lifetime to clear. The gut wrenching part of it is when you're the one who's being questioned. Your purpose is put on trial. Your contributes are being weighed.

This suddenly has become my story...from partnership to a fine examination. And as I felt anger swell up inside me to be against this very thing that is beyond my control, these flowers remind me...and remind him...that there's grace in the end. And grace translates to "it's ok."

-meg

The Greatest of These is Love

He taught me to let go of my cares

He taught me to embrace spontaneity

He taught me my unrealistic expectations

He taught me not to be bound by others

He taught me the power in accomplishments

He taught me to dream the unheard of

He taught me the past is just a foundation

He taught me to correct my mistakes

He taught me that the world is in the palm of my hands

He taught me to share

He taught me to be vulnerable

He taught me to persue

He taught me my emotions

He taught me the beauty of sharing struggles

He taught me sacrifice

He taught me perseverance

He taught me to give grace as well as accept it

He taught me the ugly side of me

He taught me the beautiful side of me

He taught me acceptance

He taught me justice

He taught me intolerance for the things this world tolerates

He taught me to explore

Most of all...He taught me how to love

Our Greatest Weakness

I've returned from Calcutta, India and my eyes are tired. My brain is overwhelmed. And I wonder how this life connects with the one I had there.

I could go on and on about all the luxuries we have here that aren't a necessity there, but I knew that before I got there. I could explain the pollution, the heat, or even my mission for going but I'm sure there's numerous books that have all been written touching on these.

I'd rather explain the uncomfortable, not at ease, restless and vulnerable state I spent the whole trip trying to run from.

I realized here in America we do everything we possibly can to feel safe, secure, and comfortable. We have our car alarms, city police, seatbelts, laws, research to tell us we're doing it right, sidewalks, personal space, health codes, traffic rules, big soft beds, and machines to do most of our work for us. All of these things can't be found in India.

I was prepared for a degree of culture shock, but I just wasn't ready to have my safe and secure feelings of comfortability to be constantly invaded. I'm not even talking about physical comfortability anymore. Sure, it was freakin hot (in the low 100s) and my bed was really hard and it sucked doing laundry by hand. But what I experienced was the invasion into my being.

I first had these feelings when I noticed I was being stared at like I had a deformity. White skin and blonde hair stand out without a doubt, a feeling that's foreign to me. Here in America we're used to looking at staring eyes and after contact is made they look away real fast to pretend as if they didn't exist. In India, the staring eyes just keeps staring and the facial expression remains neutral.

My personal bubble was also continually invaded considering that the streets are lined with beggars that flock to see what tourists have to give. They grab your hand, hang on to your bag, and find their way to your line of your vision so you conciously make the decision to keep walking.

As the trip went on we became aware of the scam artists. One wanted our picture at the ATM to steal our credit card number, another wanted us to buy them food so they could just sell it back and keep the money, the cab drivers charged us more than the meters, the little kid kept pointing out his cuts and scrapes so we would give him money, mothers would introduce us to their babies that may or may not have even been theirs, and some of the beggars are known to be working for someone else.

Who were you supposed to trust when you're this vulnerable? It definitely wasn't the drunk homeless man who forced himself on me and gave me an unexpected kiss on the street or even the man driving the auto rickshaw who tried to see how far he could get his hand up my leg. I felt my innocence robbed and more than personal space was invaded.

I spent the rest of the trip just trying to escape these vulnerabilities. Usually in America we can find shelter somewhere close by. But I looked and looked and exhausted myself trying to find it.

The goal of any trip outside the country is to experience culture, live like the locals, and understand the people. It was this thought that I found the connection between the two worlds.

The people of India are vulnerable. Looking for security. Longing to be comfortable. Seeking shelter. And what I experienced was just a small glimpse into their lives.

I was ready to come back to the states, yet I didn't want to leave. I wanted to give my mind a rest in constantly evaluating what was safe and what wasn't. I longed for my personal bubble to be returned. Yet, I wanted to keep learning what its like to live in a constant state of vulnerability...probably our greatest weakness yet our greatest moments of learning and seeing more than we ever thought we could.

-meg

I want to be your Partner

part.ner.ship (n.)
a cooperative relationship between people or groups who agree to share responsibility for achieving some specific goal.

A definition I should have taped to my forehead for the whole month of April. This word didn't even come to me until it was all said and done.

But I want to be a partner.

There may be a better word...A more classy or sophisticated one, but this just seems to fit.

The whole month of April was a whirlwind. One hot mess. Maybe one of the hardest months to get through. But somehow its May now and it all just seems like a blur.

I struggled more than I ever have.
Struggled for attention...Yet I wanted to be supportive.
Begged for a time out so we could have just a breather...but there just was no room for it.

I didn't want to be forgotten in the all the mass of responsibilities, but I also wanted to do whatever I could to be the one that could be counted on.
I wanted to be a strong framework that could take it all and hold up ok, but sometimes I just cracked. And it wasn't fair. But I did. I found myself unable to adjust to the lacking time commitment, attention span, and in the peripheral vision for the moment being.

Let's just say I got a small glimpse into the life any person who supports the one they love in their trail to success. Many came to mind such as my mother and even the boss I worked for in high school. A support system that I began to understand incredibly more so than ever. Strength on the outside. Desperation on the inside.

Opportunities are what we all keep our eye out for and when one lands in our lap, it's stupid not to take it. But saying the word "yes" sometimes brings much more than we could ever imagine. The stress, the lost sleep, the nights we stay up worried sick, the blinded sight of knowing what's to come. Many times I wanted to quit. Throw in the towel. Not be responsible.

I'm not sure how much more detail to go into. I just wanted to share the thought that I've fought a month long battle of selfishness and selflessness. Crying to not be forgotten...and being a #1 fan.

I actually remember driving one day in one of the deepest moments of this struggle and I found my stress level to be almost twice as high. And when I wondered why, it seemed to be because I took on another's stress along with MY normal amount. So my thought was...I don't want this. I have enough on my own so why double it? It'd be way easier to just deal with my own and delete the extra. Why would anyone sign up for this? Commit to it? Trudge through it until the end of time?

And I realized that this was probably the main point of it all. To be a partner.

Maybe we need each other, and just maybe this is what its like to take a vow.

Even though it seemed like hell through it all, I thank God for The Flop. It probably will make me a better adult than I ever thought it would.

-meg

I've been Eaten

"Nurses eat their young"

A little saying known in the health care field...I've always wondered what this means but let me tell you what it means:

It means crushing a small spirit that's trying to grow.

It means snatching the joy right out of some one's heart.

It means snickering at another just to make them feel belittled.

It means having no remorse for the little girl who's crying in the bathroom.

Worst day of my life today. That's an exaggerated saying, but really. This someone was me and you could go so far to say that today I was eaten by my very own kind.

I had clinicals in the ICU today and I was feeling a little intimidated just walking in. It'd been a week or two since I'd been here so its like trying to remember what it feels like to tie shoe strings when you've had velcro shoes for a couple of years. You don't actually forget...its just weird for awhile.

To add to my intimidation and uneasiness I got assigned to the worst nurse on the planet. I guess I'll give her some credit...but not much. I had watched her on the floor before today and I was scared of her not even having her as my assigned nurse. She's terrible rude and unapproachable, stuck in her ways, and maybe even holds her nose a little higher than everyone else. (that's my opinion anyways)

I worked up the courage to introduce myself to her and she barely looked at me twice. She told me I wouldn't have much to do during the day...immediately shooting me down. Most nurses let you follow them or show you stuff as they go about their day. This one didn't care if I sat in the corner all morning.

So I tried to continue on with positive thoughts and did the things I knew how to and then it came for me to give my patient her morning meds at 9 am but this nurse already did it at 7:30. Shot down. No opportunity for me.

I tried to keep myself busy and look around for stuff to get in on, but I just kept feeling in the way and unimportant. I kept telling myself that I was important and then all of sudden I began believing that I wasn't.

The ICU seemed so big. The halls were so long. And I was so small.

I tried to ask my nurse a question later and again, shot down. I was just in her way. Again, my patient wanted to talk to her so I said I would go find her for them and when I got her attention she was annoyed and asked what it is that she could possibly be needed for that I couldn't just do myself.

By 10 am, the doctor had ordered a new medicine for my patient and got excited that it was finally time to BE something of importance and have some kind of worth. But I had to wait on my professor and by the time the nurse saw I was still waiting on my professor (maybe a 15 min. wait) the nurse said "I'll just do it" and ripped the medicine right out of my hand and ran into the room to do it with no regard of anything that she just destroyed in me.

I wanted to cry. But I held back. I tried to still watch. But nothing inside me wanted to be in the hospital anymore. I didn't even want to have my scrubs anymore. I'll turn in my badge. I'll hand you anything you need to let me go. I don't want this anymore.

I spent awhile crying in the bathroom. And I spent more hours today debating on whether I should actually be a nurse. One of my most truest passions.

But then my professor saw me and took me to a quiet room and sat down in a chair beside me and just let me vent. She talked with me and calmed me down and then looked me in the eye and said "You're gonna be a good nurse."

So I believed her.

I dried my eyes and thought...I hope I have a student follow me someday and when I do...I hope I make them feel on top of the world. Not like shit. I deserved better. Human beings deserve better.

My professor said I still learned things today. Maybe I did. She's probably right.

meg

Here's My Apple

Homeless and beggars BREAK my heart. They've always broken my heart. And the fact of the matter is that it should always continue to break my heart.



I remember a time when I was little (like maybe 7) and me and my family were driving to go get our Christmas pictures...so it was sometime in November. And we drove by a corner and there was a homeless man in a wheelchair with no legs past his knees. He was holding a sign that said HUNGRY WILL WORK FOR FOOD. And as a 7 year old I just couldn't understand how this man didn't have food! I have food whenever I want it...so why can't he? So I did the natural 7 year old girl thing and I just started crying. And my parents in the front of the van were so confused. They had no idea what triggered my break down but I could barely even speak. I just kept crying and breathing really hard and snot running down my face. WE JUST DROVE BY A MAN WHO DOESN'T HAVE ANY FOOD! AND THE WORST THING IS THAT HE'D EVEN SAID HE'D WORK AND HE HAS NO LEGS!!!!!!



My parents spent a great deal of time trying to calm me down and they said we could buy him some food on our way home...I just needed to stop crying so we could take the pictures. But I didn't want to! I needed to get food to that man! Eventually my soul calmed and I couldn't wait to give get back to him. But after the pictures were done, we drove by that corner again... and he wasn't even there anymore.



Don't even think that story will ever leave me.



Fast forward to today. I'm 21 and still just as confused as to what to do for those people. I spent a lot of time Freshman year hanging out homeless people on Friday nights and I got to know some real well. I've had both positive and negative experiences stick with me, but I'm constantly trying to refine my perspective and my actions in the present.



Yet I have the same worry of what do I do?? I've been weary about being a young single woman and yet wanting to show nothing but compassion. But I've been warned to be on my guard and that's always in the back of my mind. This is my dilemma.



The past couple of weeks I've seen the same homeless man at the interstate exit and I just sit there at the light and think...I can't do anything. Little money, fear of being taken advantage of, and doubt that anything I do CHANGES anything.



3 weeks have gone by with this pit in my stomach because of the guilt I feel of not being able to do anything. And then here came the 4th week just this past Monday where I had to take this dreaded exit and see the same eye stare in my car and feel the same feeling. The feeling that I have everything and can't think of anything I could do for this man. I was waiting at the light and then I looked down and I saw an apple I had in my cup holder. Then it hit me. GIVE THIS AWAY. And I got so excited.



I looked on the floor of the passenger seat and I also had a bag of chips I didn't eat at lunch. Oh! And a rice krispie in the back seat!!! I rolled down my window so anxiously, this time hoping the light would actually NOT change soon and yelled "Hey! Do you want my apple?!?"



This is a long story for a real simple ending. But it changed something inside of me. I saw that I had something to "do" that was right under my nose (sitting in my cup holder) the whole time!

And I drove away thinking "I wonder how many people have "apples" right under their noses and just don't know what to do with them."

God is Alive

Vacations are a necessity. How often is it that we give our minds a break from the billion miles per hour they go a day? There's always something. Vacation is a chance for us to catch up on just random things. For example, I read a magazine for the sole benefit of escaping reality. I put my ipod in to just fall asleep to something other than a list of things to do the next day running through my head. I painted my nails to take the time of caring for myself. And I spent time with friends to remember that I don't live this life just for me.

I just got back from a vacation to Gulf Shores, Alabama with 6 other girls. A nice vacation and time to just think.

Just. Think.

And observe.

And witness.

And be.

I took my "dream morning" one morning. And by "dream morning" I mean this is what I would do if I could start every morning like this. I woke up at 7 and took a morning jog on the beach. The sun was rising. Only a small amount of people existed. And the waves seemed to smell fresher than they do a noon. I took my ipod with me and got on my jogging shoes while everyone else was still asleep in the condo and when I got down to the beach I didn't even want my ipod. The world was only following the sound of the morning waves.

As I started running, I didn't even care how fast or how far I was going. And the people I passed every now and then made eye contact and I either got a smile or a "Good Mornin'."

And it was this sense of morning happiness, with the sea air in my lungs, that I wondered...why can't all day be like this? The people. The atmosphere. The ambition. This isn't the world that we live in. The agendas, the hurry, and the strict schedules we're forced to follow. This world was free. God existed in this world.

I felt God in each eye contact, smile, and Good Mornin' I got. And this led me to seek God through the rest of the vacation. Hanging around 7 girls can bring rough waters at times and I felt like God told me, in this world I was jogging in, to look past the quarrels and different personalities and to see that God exists in every person.

And I would like to say I did see Him. Even in times I didn't expect it. In girls I didn't expect to show it in times that they did. Little talks here and there, sharing a song together, a cry or a frustration together, even a story or a simple laugh together. God shines through all those instances in every person and its just up to us to see Him. Even when people are at their worst.

I went back to sleep after my morning run. Mainly because everyone else in the condo was still asleep and I didn't want to wake anyone up that early. But I feel back asleep with a smile on my face because I knew I just experienced a gift. A gift I wouldn't get if I lived on the coast, or went running on the beach everyday like I wished.

A gift to see what it really means when God said he made us in His image.

And that he is still alive.

meg

I'm Tired

I'm tired of these thoughts. Memories. They seem to haunt me. Every time I'm alone they seem to creep up on me. I thought that cutting off this part of my life would help, but it hasn't. This post may be a bit ambiguous but just go with me. Or as warning maybe you should stop. Either way...I'm tired.

I'm tried of remembering the times I felt manipulated. The times I was so blindly controlled and followed in trusting faithfulness. I'm tired of the memories I have of him. Every comment. Every action. Every moment I spent with him out of fear of not.

I'm tired of remembering every flaw he pointed out in me. The vein in the back of my leg, the extra flab on the back of my arms, my inherited lovehandles, the extra weight I might have put on, all of which I obviously knew. All these things have been said to me. How about the times I remember of always having to pay attention to him and if anyone else grabbed it then he made sure I didn't forget about him. This includes the times he made me rub his back, or his sore elbow, or his head. The times he would call me away from something else I enjoyed doing to remember that my devotion was required.

I'm tired of remembering the times that I should have had control. The times I laid in his bed and wanted to get up because I felt the most uncomfortable I've ever felt but I was forced to stay. Or the times I hated being tickled in places that didn't seem ticklish to me. Or the time I went to college and was called out for not "keeping in touch." Who knew one human being could place such shame over another that easy.

But this was ok right? I was led to believe a lie of trust and authority. Why didn't anyone ever teach me that it wasn't? Why did people watch this happen and not warn me? At least tell me that I was this blind? Why couldn't I get out of this sooner??

I hate the times I would open up to someone in confidence and it would get back to him. I hate that he determined how I lived my life, the values I had, the friends I kept or dismissed, the music I listened to, the way my family functioned, the boys I dated, and the approval I sought from him.

I'm tired of taking compliments and laughing them off as he didn't really mean to say that. Or show my uncomfortable laugh as cry for help screaming from the inside out.

I'm tired of agreeing. I'm tired of conforming. I'm tired of remembering.

Man. I'm so tired.

meg

Those Eyes

One time over the summer while I was working at the hospital, I took care of a little old man named Eli. He was probably 80 or so, pretty skinny and really wrinkly. He was dying of cancer. The longest most drawn out kind of all deaths. He had been in and out of the hospital and this was just one of his usual visits since he was going down hill. My job was to ask him all the long medical questions that get asked when you first get there and he pretty much knew the drill since he had been in and out. His wife was helping answer some of the questions and they were joking around the whole time, giving stupid answers to just make me laugh. When I asked if he lived at home with his wife, she said "he better." And when I asked if he used tobacco or alcohol his wife said "not a one...never cussed either. He's been a pastor all his life."

Later on that day I walked into his room once and his whole extended family was in a circle around his bed praying together in tears for Eli.

Eli was so incredibly weak. His little body could barely do anything for himself. His wife was by his side the whole time...I didn't really do anything for him. While I was working through the night, 7pm to 7am, and I was called in to Eli's room because he had to go to the bathroom. Eli liked to sleep naked so I only went into his room when he needed something important (I was warned before hand) So to accomplish this task it took both me and his wife to get his incredibly weak body just a couple inches to the side of the bed.

Me and Eli's wife stood by his side and it was in this moment that the universe all made sense for just a couple of minutes. I put my hand on Eli's bare back, which was so shaky and frail. He looked up at me and his eyes were big and sad. I'll never forget the eye contact we had in this moment. It was 4 in the morning and just single light was on in the corner of the room.

It was in that moment that I looked into those more than physically tired eyes and I felt as if God was looking at me himself. I spent all summer questioning where God could possibly be in the midst of dying cancer patients. Let alone, my role in being placed to help take care of them. I bounced from angry, to frustrated, to sad, to this moment when I felt like God lived in this man and maybe, just maybe, I was taking care of Him.

My very very simple work of just putting my hand on a bare naked, frail dying elderly man seemed incredibly more meaningful than anything else I had ever done in my life. And my perspective changed. My work seemed important when I could see God in those eyes.

I still think about Eli today. Those eyes and that intimate moment might just stay with me forever. I hope so anyways. Or else I'll just be doing meaningless work for the rest of my life. But lately I've been wondering what my "work" will amount to. And really I wish I could just wake up every morning and have Eli beside me so I knew that there was point to the work I fret over, stress about, and get so anxious that I drive myself crazy.

But I thank God for Eli. For being Eli. And hopefully I'll get to meet him again someday.

Meg

Deliver Me. Deliver Us.

You could blame it on the mid-semester slump. Or seasonal/wintertime blues. Maybe it's just going around?? Like the flu? or a cold? It can't be. It seems impossible. But if we took a second to stop and listen in the complete silence, kinda like on a snowy day when you walk outside and just hear the sound of nothing. The streets are silent. The city is quiet. And noise does not exist. I think we could hear a small quiet whispered echo..."Deliver me." It'd be coming from each person who is in the scene. Like on the movies. When you can here the character thinking out loud but no one else in the scene can. It's what I hear anyways.

God. Our hearts are aching. They hurt. And sometimes it just doesn't make sense. How did it get like this? Was there something we could have done to prevent this? Everywhere I look I see hearts aching from a something. A broken relationship, an unhealthy relationship, a distorted view of themselves, a loss of a loved one, a struggle with alcohol/drugs/porn, questions of "Am I good enough?...will I ever be?," thoughts of harming themselves, a battle with depression, and contemplations of simple existence.

We can't take this God!! And we're crying for the sunshine to come. Or maybe spring will bring a breath of fresh air. But that's still awhile away. So what to do before then? Keep on keepin' on? Or just ride it out? Everything happens for a reason? Hope? Believe?

Today I asked myself if this prayer and cry could be answered. And I wondered if God really heard it but yet he keeps us here. All together. In the same cry. But what for? Maybe to heal together? Or learn what healing feels like? Or to fight it out and gain that much more in life after we're past this?

I guess I'll rest on those thoughts for now. A belief that we're all in this hard life together. But my heart is still crying for deliverance. For myself. For us.

meg

Here's My Story

So many of you may know my heart and my love for nursing. I've always wanted to be a nurse actually. I pretended for a couple of years that I wanted to be a teacher just so that me and my best friend Lindsey could have classrooms next to each other and have classroom pets together. (Gotta love those days of middle school)

If you look back in my mom's stash of pictures, there's a picture of me when I'm somewhere around the age of 9 or 10 and it was career day at school and of course, I'm dressed up as a nurse. (Sappy story, I know) But, it's adorable because I'm so tiny and I'm wearing scrubs and I have a fake stethoscope and a clip board (representing a patient's a chart I guess). But ever since then, I've just always dreamed of being a real live nurse who can care for anyone who needs help. Caring for people is my speciality and what better profession. I'm also in love with the human body and just how well it is made. Studying it all at the college level has only emphasized that for me because everything just works so well together! (you get hot.. you sweat, your blood pressure goes down.. your heart starts beating faster to make up for it, you're losing a lot of blood.. your body redirects it away from places that don't need it like kidneys and fingernails for the moment being) Its so cool and it just emphasizes the awe of God planning every single fiber of our beings.

Well here I am. AU Nursing School in the year 2009. It's almost surreal because its like when you're a kid and you imagine that adults are so old and you'll never be one, but then you wake up one day and you can buy alcohol, have your own checking account, and go to bed whenever you want.

So last summer I decided to get more integrated into the actual field of nursing so I applied for an internship at Ball Memorial Hospital. I didn't get to pick exactly, but I ended up on the Oncology Unit. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It's a unit full of joy and sorrow wrapped up all into one emotional packed feeling of success and failure at the same time. I learned so much over the summer and really began to feel like belonged on the floor as an actual nurse. Patients trust what I have to say to answer their questions and they watch me learn and gain confidence right in front of them. And the thing about cancer patients...they're happy to see a smiling face whether you know a lot about nursing or you're just there to refill their cup of water.

So my heart lies in the Trauma/ER, crisis/disaster field and someday I hope to be there. I dream of having my fingers in some one's gushing artery yelling out orders to GET ME 5 MG OF ATROPINE! AND YOU, I NEED 50 ML D5W STAT! That's my dream anyways. And when I interviewed for my student nurse position my manager, Dani, asked me what I wanted to do when I graduated. And when I told her that this was my dream she told me I wasn't going to necessarily get that on the cancer floor. She said "it's actually a much slower death up here."

In all reality. I love where I'm at right now. Its actually the inspiration for me starting this blog. I wanna write about the experiences I've had and the patients I've encountered. The look I've seen in their eyes and the life lessons I walk out the door and leave at the end of the day with. Some days I just come home and cry because of I try to make sense of it all. Its frustrating to see the value of life ending in front of your very own eyes and something that robs a person from continuing on. Especially when I'm the personality that wants to fix everything so it will just be better. I'm the oldest child of 5 and that's been my whole mission in life. I have 4 little ones to look out for and I would never want them to experience the pain life brings us (I'm not sure I'll be able to be a parent)

"But if we would all just accept how freaking vulnerable we are." A quote from my psychology professor. We gotta be vulnerable in this life and I think we spend our whole lives running away and covering up the most honest truth that we ARE so freaking vulnerable. It hurts to be this vulnerable. But it almost seems like we learn the most when we do open up to true vulnerability. The end of my prof's quote was "we're all just gonna die anyways."

That we are. That we are.
Meg

My Blog. My Rules.

So I've been thinking about blogging for a long time now. Maybe over a year. And its been a back and forth battle.
At first it seemed like the most modern thing to do...using a computer to write down all my thoughts would save me so much time. But I stayed true to my traditional ways. I love my journal. Its only me and my writing. Sometimes the sentences don't make sense, they run together at times and I'm jumping all over the place with thoughts. Let's not even mention the misspellings and left out words. Plus, something inside me just fills up with life when I can sit down and write and know that everything that is behind that cover is just me. I don't ever want to give that up and I don't plan to. Sometimes I think about just placing the journal I've kept for years in the lap of my future husband, like 3 days before we're married, and saying "Here, this is everything you'll even need to know about me." I've had it since junior year of High School. But publishing this? Why would I want anyone to read what goes on inside of me? I've been too self conscious of what would happen if I actually posted my thoughts and then if people don't like them then do they not like me? That's a stupid mentality but it lives inside me. And here's another thing. I've just thought I'd have to have a blog like everyone else and I question my ability to stay up with that. Politics..don't care enough. Music...I'm under-educated. News...I don't surround myself with it. Social justice...I'm nervous my level of activism is judged.
But then it hit me... there's something I really do care about. It gets my heart beating. My blood pumps uncontrollably. And there's a pressure just at the surface of my chest that wants to burst. And that's being a nurse and taking care of people. And I've been cautious of being the girl who is only obsessed with what she is doing and the adult that grows to only talk about their work. I've even gotten frustrated at the other nursing majors when its the only thing they live for and even wear their scrubs when they're not in the hospital. That's not me but here's the thing: I love it. I love what I'm doing. I'm looking forward to the experiences I'm going to get and it's what I want to write about. These are my experiences and they're teaching me a whole lot about this world and really that's all I want to share (So i guess it doesn't have to be my inner most deepest thoughts). I always knew that if I did start a blog I wouldn't tell anybody so it wouldn't feel like someone invaded my head. But I really do want to share the things I'm learning from the real hard reality I come in to contact with everyday. Its been impacting to me so far and is really shaping how I see the world. And that's all a blog is right?? So if you're reading I want you to know that my work is hard but I love it and I don't want to do anything else in this whole world. (Except take a ride in a hot air balloon). Some basic rules to get this started: I misspell a lot, I don't care about grammar, I get super proud of my clever titles (just like in my journal too), and my overall objective is to simply share my paradigm and the hurting world I'm helping take care of.