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