This Little Light of Mine

This is a story of how a little inconvenience and prayer made for what I call a "God situation."

Two weeks ago my beautiful and entertaining new roommate Katie came home one day from running errands around town because she couldn't seem to find her wallet. After searching the house and her car she just couldn't seem to find it. So I did what my mother used to do with me, I sat her down and had her walk me through the last time she can remember having the wallet in her hand. Your mama ever do that with you?

After reliving her day she came to the conclusion that when she went to get gas the night before, in haste she put the wallet on the top of her car and forgot about it when she got back in the car (at least it wasn't a baby, right?!?! seriously, that has happened). 

Hopeful she went back to the gas station to see if it was still there.

Nope. Life can't ever be that simple.

Discouraged, we prayed that someone responsible and honest would find the wallet and return it seeing as it had all her cards in it (student id, brand new license and debit card), her brand new check book, pictures, gift cards, her whole life, etc. You get the point. The situation sucked big time.

You know that feeling you have when you're missing something but just can't seem to find it? Well that pretty much is what Katie faced for the next day and a half. I joked with her one evening that I felt like things were going to start showing up one card at a time. She didn't find that too humorous. Well thanks to the wonderful world of Facebook someone contacted Katie and told her that they had found her Liberty University ID. As she jumped around I just smiled and said "one card at a time."

She quickly called the man back and explained that she had already ordered a new one but thanked him for contacting her. She found out that he had found the card on the busy road near the gas station Katie had lost her wallet at.

Trying to be a good roommate I volunteered to go search the road with her. We walked up and down the side of the road where we thought he had found the card but found nothing and returned home defeated.

I was washing the dishes when I heard the doorbell ring. Katie and I looked at each other as if to say did you invite someone over? I laughed and said "hey wouldn't it be funny if your wallet was at the door?" (Ok so maybe I'm not the funniest person ever).

Funny thing, it was the man that had originally found her LU ID. He had found her checkbook and wanted to drop it off! She graciously thanked him and got a better location of where the items were found.

Long story short we decided to head back out to roam the open road and see if we could find anything else. It was dark and I had to get up early the next morning to drive home but if it was me I would want someone with me so I volunteered to go with her again. This time I tackled one side and she tackled the grassy median. Two minutes in despite not seeing well she found a business card (she knew it was hers because it was from back home, MA). She held it up in the air like she had won the lottery and yelled for me. I decided to play Frogger (I'm sure mom would have freaked if she saw us running about the street at nine o'clock at night- don't worry we played safe!) and went for the center. Here was two white girls climbing around in the median at 9:30 at night with cars racing around us. I heard someone else's voice so I looked up and there was this older woman coming at us with this intensely large metal flashlight. Offering her flashlight services she began searching with us.

Thirty minutes later all three of us had walked up and down Timberlake road just talking briefly and finding cards ever so often. 

At the end of the night we had found almost everything, minus the wallet, debit card, and license (ok the big things but at least we found some important things!). Katie and I hugged Brenda and thanked her for her time. She gave us her number and said she would love to have us over sometime, seeing as we both are far from home she could be like our adopted grandmother.

Katie and I got in the car and I couldn't help but smile. Unbeknownst to Katie I had prayed to God a few days prior to her loosing her wallet that this summer He would help me establish relationships with complete strangers with the goal in mind that the majority would be non-Christians so that they could see Christ through me. Some may not see it this way but I believe Brenda was the beginning of the answer to that prayer.

Was loosing her wallet an inconvenience for Katie? Heck yes. But even Katie said had she not lost it, had Pete not found the card and contacted her, had we not gone back out in the pitch dark we would not have met Brenda. Brenda is this vivacious sixty something year old who cracked me up when she explained that she kept the heavy duty flashlight in her van in case someone tried to attack her because in her words: "I'm a nice Christian lady but if someone attacks me and its between me or them unfortunately I'm going to whoop them." We got a glimpse into her life that was centered on God and her grandchildren. In the brief minutes we talked she opened up about loosing her oldest son, 39 and frankly it just sounded like she needed some people in her life to talk to. Brenda's flashlight shed a whole new light on the situation in a sense.

Do I believe that God sent Brenda into our lives for a reason? You better believe it. I don't know exactly all the reasons why right now but God doesn't always give us the whys. Sometimes He just gives us opportunities, especially if we pray for them. 

I'm not so sure who reads this but if you are I'm going to challenge you to pray boldly for God to give you the opportunity to ------ (you fill in the blank). You'd be surprised at how God answers when we're willing. What's your God situation going to look like? 

Can You Take the Pressure?

You better believe I can! One of the first things we learned in nursing school clinically was how to take a blood pressure manually. It's funny how a year and a half ago taking a blood pressure was so "hard." Placing the cuff and listening for the sounds took all my focus. Now I could do it with my eyes shut and music blaring. Ahem, that MIGHT be an exaggeration ;) [Below I am sitting in my super cute uniform -that also might be an exaggeration -studying before clinical at the beginning of the semester.]

In all seriousness, I am sitting at the end of my junior year thinking back over the last two years and it's kinda crazy how far we've come. Many days it doesn't feel like I have learned a thing and then I think back to some of the first things I did and how scary they seemed (i.e. walking into a patient's room and introducing myself).

I should be studying for my pharm final tomorrow evening but I decided to take a break and reminisce a little bit. It helps keep my mind off the fact that people are leaving to go home and I will be stuck here for another three weeks taking a summer class....

I remember standing in my patient's room sophomore year getting ready to slide the bed pan under her when she asked me what her name was. I said "Miss Soandso" to which she replied "NO, what is my first name?" I could not remember what her chart said (granted when we do our patient profiles we only get initials and room numbers - I say that trying to give myself an excuse) for the life of me. I stood there slightly embarrassed and tried to guess based off her initial (can't say I didn't try, right?!?). What I learned that day was the importance of knowing my patient's name. They are people, not just a room number, and the decent thing to do is know their name!

This past year I was checking in on patients on my hall during lunch. You know making sure they were all sitting up and didn't need help opening anything. Well I poked my head into an elderly man's room (there is just something about elderly people that I find so darn cute so I love checking on them). I asked him if he needed anything to which he replied with "oh that was very nice of you. I think I'm just fine." As I went to leave he said in his sweet old man voice "actually darling if you don't mind handing me the phone and telling me the cafeteria's phone number I'd like to order dessert." Without thinking I handed him the phone and spouted off the number. Ten minutes (or so it seemed) later I saw the woman from nutrition services come up with his piece of cake. I finished what I was doing and then went in his room to check on him. The nurse was already in there asking him how he'd gotten the cake. Don't worry she wasn't yelling at him, rather astonished that this 90 year old had gotten around the system (me and the dietary services) and had himself some cake. You see he is a diabetic and was on a no concentrated sweet diet. What I learned that day was I should always check a patient's diet before becoming an accomplice and sending them into shock! Luckily his blood sugar was fine. Sneaky old man! I have a weak spot for cake so I totally understood and I couldn't help but smile as he flashed a big grin as I left the room.

I learned people can throw up feces. Yes you read that right, feces. My assessment skills told me that the foul smelling brown chunky stuff I was catching in my hands (don't worry they were gloved) was not typical throw up. I did not know what it was until a charge nurse came in to help the poor old woman who was in respiratory distress and looked at me and said "you know what that is right?" My eyes must have said it all because she responded quickly with "feces" and called for back up. My heart went out to the 94 year old who was on her way out of this world. My shift had ended but I couldn't leave her throwing this stuff up by herself so I stayed until the real deals came in and took over. I'm not sure what happened to this sweet woman who apologized to me for having to clean her up. I kept reassuring her that it was not her fault as I tried to hide my gagging. My heart broke for her though - can you imagine? Throw up is bad enough but fecal matter coming up through your mouth?!?!

I realized that I have been in school way to long and need a break when I told a story about my friend and referred to her as my patient. Or when I look at my electric mixer box I always translate "bowl rest" as bowel rest. Or when someone is talking about going to the bathroom and instinctually I want to ask the color (ha, I know gross). Or I start to tell a story at the dinner table only to realize it probably isn't much of a dinner table story. Or I wash my hands before going to the bathroom (even at home!). Or how about when I look at a member of the opposite sex I immediately look at their arms and check out their veins! (God gave men some great arm veins, that's all I'm sayin'!!!) My list could go on but I really should get back to studying. All I know is that I am READY for summer.

I'll leave you with this; one of my professors used the ever so quoted Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" on the first day of class this semester. I wrote it down on a notecard and hung it on my missionary prayer board even though I thought it was a little cliche. I cannot tell you how many times I laid down at night starring at that silly notecard this last year repeating to myself that I could get through this because God had my back. Such a comforting thought eh?

Happily Ever After...

Behind each patient in a bed is a person who has a story. That story varies from pleasant, to adventurous, to sad and every combination in between. I'm the listening ear at the bedside who gets to enter their world (if only for a few hours) and step outside of mine.

While taking vital signs in the Outpatient wing at Virginia Baptist I came in contact with a man in his late 40's who was wheelchair bound due to a left leg amputation. This man was rough, both in his demeanor and speech. Can't say I blame him. Nonetheless I put on a smile and went about my business, ignoring his cynicism. As I prepared to walk out of the room he looked me in the eyes and said "Let me tell you something. I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, and I didn't do drugs. Yet I am the one who ended up in this chair without a leg." Being completely caught off guard and not knowing how to respond I tried to hide my shocked face and quietly said my goodbye as I entered the hallway. Aside from diabetes (the disease that unfortunately took his leg) this man was healthy but he most definitely was not in good spirits. No matter how kind I was the fact that he was very frustrated and angry with his current situation was NOT going to change. His life had not worked out the way he had planned and he most definitely was not going to get the "happily ever after" he wanted...

My roommates and I sat around the other day (ok when I say the other day it can literally mean the other day OR more times than not it means a while ago, anyways moving on...) watching trailers for four movies that will be coming out (or recently have); Valentines Day, Letters to Juliet, The Last Song, and Dear John. Those last two are based on Nicholas Sparks books p.s.. Naturally we got sucked into them because there is a romantic element in each of them and in movies you can ALWAYS count on happy endings.

For that brief hour and half I can escape reality and delve into the lives of these characters who are involved in fabulous relationships. I get to experience the highs and lows right along with them. And in the end everything works out! That's what everyone wants, a story that works out in the end. Unfortunately what we forget is that "chick-flick" movies are fiction. The character's actions and words are scripted. Now I'm not trying to sound like the stepmother from Enchanted when she refers to earth as the place where "happy endings do not exist" but I think especially as girls we get wrapped up in these fictitious men who have everything going for them and are so perfect and that's what we hold real men with imperfections up against. That's why our happy endings never look like the one's in the movies. We're holding them up against an unrealistic standard. I know I have made that mistake; wanting my life to look and feel like one scripted right out of Hollywood. But maybe, just maybe, the happy ending can be found. It may not necessarily be what WE wanted (or what we thought we wanted I should say). Maybe it's what He (God) lays out for us and I'm learning in the end that is much better. 

As nursing students despite the prognosis we are supposed to hope for the best. The reality of life is not everyone gets the happy ending they were hoping for. But God can use all circumstances for His glory. I fully realize it's a lot easier for me to sit here with both my legs and talk about how God can be glorified through my patient's pain and suffering. But my life hasn't been the fairytale I've longed for either. By no means does it compare to having suffered the loss of limb but God has taken me on a roller coaster in the last four years and not everything has been a picnic. There is a "happily ever after" and that's Heaven but until I get there I will just be living life the best way I know how; one step at a time, loving people along the way, and following God whole heartedly.

And now back to my reality which is studying for finals haha!

Rock, Paper, Scissors...shave!

Two Fridays ago during clinical my "hall buddy" (aka another nursing student assigned to the same hall as myself) and I asked the nurses what we could do to help them since our morning tasks with our patients were all wrapped up. One of the nurses got a big smile on her face and said "well we have a cardiac cath patient that needs to be prepped." [For those who don't know a cardiac catheterization is procedure where the Dr. goes in the femoral artery and advances a catheter into the heart to see how many vessels are blocked which would cause a poor functioning heart, chest pain, or inevitably a heart attack.]

Like good nursing students we nodded and collected the supplies; a razor, the electric razor holder (so that's probably not the technical name but go with me!), prep cleansing pads, and a towel. My buddy looked at me and said "rock, paper, scissor for who gets to shave the groin?"

I replied with a "well that seems fair enough, BUT how about each tackle one side?" I was NOT about to lose and shave the whole groin myself haha. When I signed up for nursing school I knew there would be gross tasks, moments where I would have to act professional when inside all I wanted to do was run in the other direction and cry or laugh, skills that would scare me, and a whole lot of body parts that you once were taught to be "private." Well I'm here to tell you that for me nothing is private anymore.

However, modesty is key when preforming any kind of procedure on a patient. I am especially aware of this when dealing with a male patient. I wonder what it's like for the guy to be laying there as two young female nurses get awfully close to his privates with a razor. I kind of felt bad for the guy. Nontheless it had to be done. So I got my professional face on, explained to the man what we would be doing, and got my shave on (not with a girly Venus razor like the one pictured above of course!, we used an electric razor the hospital keeps on hand for these very moments.) Being that it was the first time that I had to shave someone's groin I wasn't exactly sure what areas needed to be cleared of hair so unfortunately my buddy and I had to go BACK in and clean the area up some after talking with my instructor. He informed us that the design was "like boxer shorts with a mohawk." I felt really bad for the patient. He was a trooper though and just closed his eyes and tuned us out. Can't say I blamed him.

Well, that was an experience that I could mark off on my check off sheet but I was not looking forward to doing again anytime soon  and wouldn't you know I would get MORE practice because...count them... TWO more patients were going to the cath lab that day. Again like good little nursing students we got the supplies together for each and tackled them one at a time. Needless-to-say we were pros by the end of the day. Seriously.

Sometimes I think nursing is a profession for those who don't know exactly what they want to be. You get a little bit of everything and a few Fridays ago I got to be groomer/cosmetologist. Not sure I'm very qualified for the job but it was the task at hand so I did it.

Lately I've been wrestling with God persay. I feel like I'm distant and want more for my life but I'm not quite sure how to get there. I picked up Forgotten God by Francis Chan (like I have time to leisurely read) and began reading. I cannot do justice for how great the book is so pick up a copy and get your read on. Anyways, the thing I am working through right now is being sensitive to the Holy Spirit's call on my life. I'm learning its not necessarily "a ten-year-from-now" type calling but rather a day-to-day calling. What does He want from me TODAY? Who does He want me to love TODAY? Etcetera. Today is all we're promised anyways right? Who knows what He will ask me to do, all I know is that He will enable me and I should follow like a good little "Christ student" (we are suppose to be learning to be more Christ-like everyday aren't we?).

Something a nursing professor said the first week of class sophomore year was that "God doesn't call the prepared, He prepares the called."

So I will take it one day at a time; one "task" at a time, even if it's unfamiliar, uncomfortable or gross.