Tuesday, February 18, 2014

The good, the bad, and the ugly… and how God uses all of it.

It is February, 2014. I am 22 years old and I am about to graduate with a BSN. I am dating a man who loves Jesus. Though I'm not exactly sure how this all happened, I praise God it did. This is the time of my life I've always wanted to see. At this point, I've begun to make a life for myself. I have a place of my own, I pay my own bills, and I work my butt off. I don't always have time to do the things I want to do, but I make time for important things, and more than that, the people God has placed in my life.

I've become exceedingly aware of what matters and what doesn't in the past month. On February 4th, I witnessed an awful wreck. Out of respect for the victims, I'm not going to go into detail of what happened, or tell much about them, may they rest in peace…but I am going to tell how it has changed me.

That afternoon I left my clinical - weary and irritated from a long morning of less than ideal patients. I'd already been someone for a confused elderly woman to roll her eyes at as I explained her medications and the importance of finishing antibiotics. I'd already had to clean up multiple rounds of feces from different incontinent patients. I'd already felt like an idiot for blanking on what class of drug Olmesartan is (it's an ARB for hypertension, by the way). I'd basically already been a babysitter, a hand holder, and a just another student who tried to understand where the angry man, the confused woman, and everyone else I came in contact with was coming from that day.

I expected to be home in three minutes when I pulled out of the parking lot. That three minutes turned into three hours all because I heard a crash. When I saw what was making the noise, my heart sank. It was two vehicles colliding and then spinning apart. I immediately felt the need to pull over and try to help, or call 911, or something. I just knew I needed to do something, so I did all three. I dug my phone out of my backpack, pulled over, turned on my flashers, checked out the scene, and approached the vehicles. One person was alright so I went to the next vehicle. One was breathing, albeit gasping breaths, but breathing…and the other in that vehicle was not. This is where I'm not going to go into detail about what I saw because I want to show respect for the human being I saw pass away right in front of me in that intersection, and the one I tried to help, but learned that that person died as well while being transported to the hospital.

As I stood in that intersection surrounded by police, EMS, and firefighters I was still shell-shocked at the scene unfolding around me. Multiple people asked if I was okay, if I needed to talk to someone, did I need anything? Multiple people asked about my uniform that I was still wearing from clinical and what kind of nurse I wanted to be. All of these questions served to distract me from the tragedy that had just happened, and at the moment, I was fine with that. In the next few days, I realized just how greatly it had affected me. My heart was not as strong as I thought. The whole time I was there, people kept saying, "Oh, she's going to be a nurse. She works in an ER, she's seen people pass before." But when I see people pass, it's because they are already in a hospital with a problem that could potentially be fatal. I didn't see the initial event that brought about their death. When I see patients in the hospital, I know that there is a possibility that they may die. When I am driving to my home that is three minutes away, I don't expect that at all.

Thursday morning I drove to school. On my way to school I saw someone run a red light. When they ran that red-light, I was immediately back at the accident scene watching two souls live out their final moments on this earth. I cried. And for those of you who know me, I don't cry very often. That afternoon I called my mom. She talked me through what normally happens at a scene like the one I saw (she's a paramedic) because she has seen it all before. She told me I did good. She told me I did what I could, and she told me that sometimes all the medical equipment and knowledge in the world just isn't enough to save people if it's truly time for their souls to vacate this planet. I knew she was telling the truth, but it took until we did our disaster drill with the nursing school for me to realize she was right.

During our disaster drill we learned how to triage patients, how to label them as needing immediate care, delayed care, having minor injuries, and simply being dead. We learned to have the minor injuries wait, treat the worst patients first if they were viable, and leave the dead to God. Although it was a drill, I finally understood that I really did do all I could with the extremely limited resources I had. I'm still not sure exactly how God is using what I witnessed that day, but I am very grateful that He allowed me to be a peaceful presence to two souls as they passed from this world. I am very honored to have gotten to be there for those people, and it is something I will not soon forget. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, and I pray often for all involved in that accident.

Monday, December 30, 2013

At least I STARTED to clean...

I started cleaning my apartment earlier, and big surprise - I got distracted. I was going through some boxes and actually got through a couple before I found my journal from my time in Haiti. Naturally, I began to read it. I began thinking about the friends I made there, the group of people I fell in love with in less than a week's time, and the God I fell in love with even more through that trip. The following excerpt is from April 26, 2013, about a month after coming back from Haiti.

"I miss being in Haiti so much. As I sat here drawing earlier, I listened to worship music. "Healing Rain" came on, then "10,000 Reasons" came on right after. I stopped everything to try to remember all I could about being in Haiti. I was reminded that my arms can hold people - can show love to a child who normally doesn't see it. My now empty hands painted a church, took vital signs, cradled newborn children, held deathly ill children, touched a new believer's shoulder, and hugged an intern who has endured more than most can imagine. My arms were once raised high in an energetic worship service, that also happened to serve as a dance party, all to praise the Lord. Bondye bon! My feet walked through the Haitian countryside, through crops and fields of one of our translators, into the homes of many who love the Lord and many who have no understanding of His love. My legs have carried me over a rocky path, uphill and down, to pray for the sick and destitute. I have run across a field with a child on my back who giggled non-stop. I have stood on a rooftop where I watched the sun rise and fall day by day. My eyes have seen pure joy in simply knowing Jesus, total heartbreak in the eyes of a mother scorned by her peers for her lack of a husband and her dying son, and complete trust in the eyes of a child who crawled into my lap to fall asleep, safe in my arms. I don't think I've ever felt so many emotions all at the same time.
'His love is deep, His love is wide, and it covers us' (Furious by Jeremy Riddle). The love of God is so much more than I ever expected. The fact that God has seen fit to show me just a few of the things He sees moment by moment overwhelms me with joy. To think that the Creator of the universe loves me, loves those children, loves all the people in the world…it blows my mind. Even knowing that He thinks of me is overwhelming. God THINKS of me AND He loves me - ME! He LOVES me. How crazy is that?!"

So as the sun sets here in Austin, I pretend I'm back in Haiti, sitting on a rooftop praising my God, my savior for the world and people He has created and shown to me in such brilliant, living color. I am blessed. Praise the Lord for His work and faithfulness.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Babies and other things from my S1 semester

This is the quickest a semester has ever gone by for me. Constant chaos and unexpected diversions (some great...some not so great) have been the norm. I didn't think my S1 semester of nursing school was going to be very difficult, and it hasn't necessarily been the content, but the amount of content that has been trying. From pediatrics to maternity nursing, I've been stretched this semester in ways that I didn't even realize.

Going into my pediatric clinical, I was actually dreading it. All I could think about were snot-nosed children (literally and figuratively) being awful because they were sick. All I could think of was how terrible it was going to be. I was correct in some senses, but I couldn't have been more wrong in others. I spent a good amount of time on a pediatric oncology unit and fell in love with the patients. Those toddlers, those young children, those teenagers are stronger than many adults I know. Along the pediatric route I also got to spend a day in a pedi ER, and I saw things I'd only read about...and some I'd never even heard of. I never thought I'd be a nurse for anyone but adults, but I seriously started to question that career choice after spending time with the kids on those units.

My maternity clinical started after pediatrics, and I was a little more than concerned that I was going to be bored to tears...and totally grossed out. Thank goodness that wasn't the case. Don't get me wrong, there were definitely gross things, but nothing worse than things I've already seen. Although I don't necessarily want to be a labor and delivery nurse, being a part of bringing new life into this world, even if I just got to be in the room as it was happening, was absolutely incredible. Today I held a newborn. I gave it's first bath. I did other things for it that it will not remember...but it is one life that I will never forget. As I held and cared for many babies the past couple of days in my clinical rotation, I looked at each of them. Watched them blink as they saw the light for the first time. Listened to their hearts beat. Watched them learn to breathe in air. Rocked them to sleep while their parents had to be elsewhere. It was in those quiet moments that I really learned to have a new appreciation for life. For the Giver of Life. These mothers and these babies go through so much to produce and become living beings. It's astounding how the feel of a newborn's fingers wrapped around one of yours can bring you back to a place of deep intimacy with the one Giver of Life that is God. It's astounding how so many little moments in just one semester can affect you so profoundly when you reflect upon them and realize what God had in mind for your life at that time.

I know this post has gotten a little wordy, so I'll leave you with an excerpt from my journal:
"I do not think we really understand what love is until we meet those who have never even heard the concept...You do not know hurt until you look into the terrified eyes of a child who has never known true love, who has only known abuse, neglect, and abandonment...You do not know pain until you look into the eyes of a toddler undergoing chemotherapy...you do not know true joy until you watch a doctor tell the mother of that toddler that the chemo is working and shrinking that unthinkable tumor."
And to that I would add, "you do not know love until you see the love a newborn receives from his mother and father. That newborn did nothing to earn that love, yet he receives it fully because there is literally no other way to live." The same can be said for us in the context of Christ. We have done nothing to earn His love, but he wants us to receive it fully. Christ's love is literally the only way to eternal life, and how great is our father for offering that love to us so unconditionally!

Friday, August 23, 2013

Grace.

I kicked off the year 2013 by running myself ragged working the night shift in the ER on New Year's Eve and every night following that for 6 nights in a row. I wasn't aware of it then, but that's what many of the following months would look like in my life. Constantly working, or going to class, or dealing with one mess after another. And somehow in the midst of all of this God said, "Go to Haiti." Um, sorry, in the words of the Despicable Me minions..."WHAAAAA?"
On more than one occasion I found myself looking back on the last 8 to 10 months shaking my head thinking, "I can't believe I did that," or, "I can't believe I got to go there," or, "Why would God choose me to love and use in His great plan even when I screw up so much of the time?" Then I realized... I think about myself way too often. I like to think I'm a caring person and not your average, self-centered American twenty-something woman, but I am. And then I hear God saying, "FINALLY, YOU GET IT."
When we shift our focus from ourselves to Christ, things start to fall into place. Don't get me wrong - there are still consequences to the things we do and we still live in a fallen world, but when we put our eyes on something bigger than ourselves we can begin to see that there is something so much more going on in the world than all the hate and disaster that plagues every nation on this earth. We begin to see that through all the facades and hypocrisy that seem to be human nature, there is a God that is always at work...And the great thing is He loves us unconditionally and wants to have a relationship with us. Why? Honestly, that one is beyond me, but He does. Does the creator of the universe really need a reason?
I cannot tell you how many people I've gotten to talk with who say they can't believe in God because if He was real, He wouldn't let bad things happen. He wouldn't let bad people get their way. He wouldn't allow them to hurt. I can't tell you how many people I've talked with who say they can't believe in God because people who profess Christianity have screwed them over or hurt them in some way. I cannot tell you how many people say they cannot believe because they don't have their lives together, because they're too far gone, because it's preposterous that "God" could love such a person as themselves. And to those things I say, I understand. I've been there. But somehow God put someone in my life that showed me truth and I've never been the same. Paul explains that, "God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8). There is nothing we could have done to earn that love because if there was there would be no point in God or Jesus or faith, or anything at all for that matter. It's not something that is easy to explain and it probably sounds like a bunch of foolishness to some of you to have faith in a being that we don't physically see...but I can tell you that it's real. I've seen people do miraculous things that just aren't possible without the help of a higher being. I've seen love pour out of people like I never imagined, and it's because they know Jesus.
This summer was basically a disaster for some of my friends and I from the get-go. Whether it was job issues, personal issues, dating issues...you name it, we had it going on. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to question my sanity, my relationships, my faith...but every time God would remind me of His faithfulness by working things out in ways I never could have imagined. Ways so much better than I could ever think of. I guess what I'm getting at is, life isn't all about me, it isn't all about you. It's all about the amazing God who is so beyond our imagination and so crazy generous that He would come to earth as Jesus so that we could be made right with God through His sacrifice for us on the cross. I don't know about you, but that's pretty stinking amazing to me no matter how many times I hear it.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Prayers for Boston.

Staring out the window, admiring the bluebonnets as I drove from one clinical site to another around 2pm central time today my daydream was interrupted with news of the explosions at the Boston Marathon. I didn't have many details, so I went on about my business. As I logged onto the computer in the hallway at the hospital, I saw a nurse coming frantically down the hallway on his cell phone. I soon learned he was trying to reach his friend who was running the marathon. He informed us that two were dead and many injured. I immediately realized this wasn't some freak accident or arbitrary prank. I came home soon after that and watched the news and videos of the explosions with my roommate and her parents who happened to be in town. As we watched the carnage I was in a state of pure disgust at what humans are capable of. I will never understand people who choose to harm the innocent, steal people's joy, and take the lives of others. It makes me absolutely sick to see these things happen.

My thoughts and prayers go out to those who know any of the injured or deceased related to this senseless, horrific event. I'm blessed to know that my friends who were at the event are safe, but I know not everyone can say the same.

I want to also remind people to be thankful for those first-responders who so willingly entered the scene to help the wounded. Medics, firefighters, police, military, and all alike are very close to my heart. Though they knew not what was to come, they gave of themselves for those who could not help themselves. In the chaos, we are still blessed by people of character, and that is something to be grateful for.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

10,000 Reasons for My Heart to Find

It's funny how one song can remind you of so much...an excerpt from my journal in Haiti should (kind of) explain this a little:

"Once the kite-making chaos ensued, a young boy who had been leaning on me asked for help. As soon as I said yes he climbed my leg to sit in my lap so we could make his "kite." (I say it that way because that thing was NOT going to fly. I'm quite certain it doesn't deserve the name at all in fact because that bundle of sticks, string, and paper was pathetic looking.) He was so young though that he had a blast just flinging the thing around. As I watched him play, some girls took the liberty of braiding my hair, and before I knew it the boy was back in my lap clinging to my neck as he snuggled up. I was sweating and it was ridiculously hot, but I couldn't push him away. I knew that at that moment I was supposed to love that child, even if the only love I could show was a hug and a place to sit. As I held that child I again heard God say, "This is what you're made for."I don't even know why the song came to mind, but I began to sing 10,000 Reasons as I rocked the boy to sleep. I almost didn't believe it when he began to echo what I was singing. I pray that he will grow into a strong man of faith, a strong man of God in that village. I truly believe that God is raising up His kingdom in Haiti with this younger generation...as I sit here on the orphanage porch writing this I cannot help but feel overwhelmed. I honestly thought this trip wouldn't mean that much to me, but it is slowly breaking me. I don't know what it means, but I am excited to see what it leads to." - 3/13/12

And once more, God has a sense of humor...as I finished writing this post 10,000 Reasons by Matt Redman came on my Pandora station. Coincidence?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtwIT8JjddM

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

L'espoir.

So I went to Haiti. Spent 6 months preparing to go to a place for a week that I didn't even want to go to because it scared the daylights out of me... but God told me it would be worth it, and I cannot put into words how right He was.



I spent a week living in an orphanage building on the side of this mountain. If living in a 12x18 room with 7 other girls doesn't teach you about living in community, I don't know what will. Every morning we awoke around 0600, had breakfast at 0645, and had some time alone so we could study and be with the Lord. Most mornings I sat on the rooftop of the huge guesthouse where every one else stayed so I could watch the sunrise. For some reason, the sun is just so much more magnificent in Haiti. As I watched it come up over the mountains every morning I couldn't help but sit in awe of the beauty that God created, that He created it so I could see it. One morning after the sunrise, I went back down to sit on the small concrete slab...er, porch, that was in front of our orphanage home. I remember sitting on the ground writing in my journal as the babies in the building behind ours began to wake and stir. Their little giggles and squeals of delight could brighten anyone's day. It was as if God transported me to some alternate universe. I couldn't believe that I was in Haiti. That God was at work in that place. That God was using me and my friends in that place.

In the orphanage was a young boy with cerebral palsy. His smile could literally light up a room. His attitude despite his circumstances could inspire anyone. He may not have all of the cognitive abilities of "normal" children, but that child was fearfully and wonderfully made. He was happy simply to be alive. How often can we say that? I know I personally live in the "woe is me" mentality much of the time, and that's not what God intended for us at all. Each morning as our group made its way back up the hill for breakfast, that boy would call us over, just to say hi and flash us that sincere, heart-melting smile. He has finally received his medical visa to come to the U.S. for the treatment that he so desperately needs. Praise God that he will be taken care of and should be able to return to Haiti in much better condition.

Unfortunately, we also saw children who were not as lucky as him. On one of our village outreach days, we split into 3 groups (about 5 people with 1 translator to each group.) My group consisted of 5 college-age girls and a Christ-following Haitian translator not much older than any of us. We set off down the main path of the village, rocks below our feet, our footing unsure - literally and figuratively. We passed a vendor who had barely even laid eyes on us before she ran to us and asked us to come pray for her sick son. This woman didn't even know us. We say yes, of course, so she tells us to follow her and she quickly begins on a winding path down a small hill. She tells us to wait at the gate (a big piece of metal tied to a post with a wire) as she goes around back and has her daughter let us in. We walk into the small yard of a concrete home. A sickly puppy runs past my feet as the woman beckons us up the steps. Unsure, we all glance to our translator for guidance and he looks at us and gestures that we go inside as we were invited to do. I was honored that this woman let complete strangers into her home simply because she wanted us to pray for her son. We walk into the living area and all stop, thinking that was as far as we were supposed to intrude, that is, until she asked us to follow her into a bedroom off of the main room. I followed behind two of my friends and knew something was wrong when the two of them stopped dead in their tracks. They both stood to the side and let the rest of us enter. As I walked through the doorway, I saw a bed against the wall with a tiny body all of 3 feet long writhing in it. I have never seen anything like it in my life. It was a boy. An eleven year old boy. An eleven year old boy with cerebral palsy and hydrocephalus so much so that it was painful to look at. His eyes rolling around attempting to focus, but never succeeding. His arms and legs no bigger around than a paper towel rod, all contractured and distorted. His stomach distended and his chest asymmetrical. This boy had never spoken a word in his life, yet his mother gave up hers to take care of him. In Haiti, it's not uncommon for people with disabilities to either be shunned or left to die. The sad thing is that his mother did all she knew how to do and the boy will ultimately still face the same fate of a painful death. Words cannot describe the emotion I felt as I sat down on the floor next to this boy's bed and stroked his forehead and held his hand as we prayed for him and his family. Words cannot describe. We asked the woman what made her seek us out and she couldn't give an answer. She said she just felt it was right. She said she'd heard of Jesus, but felt like she couldn't accept his love because she was living in sin and needed to get things right before she could really know him. How great it was to be able to tell her that that is the very reason God sent his son to live a perfect life then die on the cross as the perfect sacrifice for our lives. Because he knew we were incapable of living righteous and holy lives on our own. How awesome it was to tell her that God meets us where we are. We shared stories of Jesus' power and love and talked and prayed with her more. One of the last things I remember is sitting on the floor, still holding that child tight as one of the girls began singing Amazing Grace, and for the first time I really understood what the words meant.

"Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see."

I was unable to go back and check on the boy and his family before we left, but I have faith that God is at work. I question every day why God chose to use me instead of saving someone else like that child, but I have to trust in his greater plan. It eats me up inside knowing the conditions that child and many others live in, but I have peace in knowing that God's amazing grace never stops working.