Keeping My Cool; I'm Back at School

These past few weeks have been a steady uphill battle of combating anxiety, fear of failure and the new reality of less free time.  I got accepted this summer to Eastern Mennonite University to pursue my Bachelors degree in nursing.  And while I heard the very positive feedback about the program; I still met doing it with lots if reluctance.  It's not like I have a choice though.  Anyone semi- familiar with my profession or the situation knows it's a requirement for what I do by a certain time period.  It was something I wanted to do anyway, but the time limit was the push to do it now.

I remember loving the first day of school growing up.  It usually meant new sneakers, a fresh outfit, connecting with old friends again and a blank slate.  When I thought about going back to school this summer I can still feel my blood vessels constrict and the room feeling significantly less oxygenated. Now there is so much more at stake and unknowns. Memories of sweet school days have been replaced by meticulously balancing a schedule, having a teacher again, breakout of stress induced adult acne, long papers to write, the reality of being $20,000 lighter and those crazy heart palpitations I get when waiting for grades to come back.  Nothing about this seems fun or exciting.  I can think of so much more I wold rather do at this point in my life.

Now I'm three weeks in school.  This is the part where I turn on the optimism, say "It's great!  I love it!" and give a report of how despite my fears in the beginning, I'm growing to enjoy it.  And while the school is great, the people are nice and the assignments are bearable; I still feel qualms or anxiousness about it.  Still many unknowns and they will always be there until I'm through completely.  I believe It's matter of embracing the fear and diving in; thinking about how it will help me professionally; and diving into all the love and support from family, friends and even the school provides.

So here I am, working full time and back in school.  Not really the dream or standard at this this point in my life. I bet no one would want to trade with me, but I know that despite my hesitations, self doubts and financial sacrifices that this is exactly where I need to be.  I know the Lord has me here at this school for a reason. If I wasn't there I would probably feel the same way.  Being back in school really does provide me opportunities to lean on him and embrace the truth and peace he offers so freely.  the Bible also says we should rejoice in all circumstances; not just when we have control, we're aware of tomorrow,  and life is smooth.  Simply having breath in our lungs and shoes on our feet is means to be thankful.   Below are a few verses that have been giving me a better perspective these past few weeks.

Psalm 56:3 "When I am afraid, I put my trust in you."

Isaiah 41:10 "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Philippians 4:6-7 "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Philippians 4:4 "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!"

Deuteronomy 12:7 "There also you and your households shall eat before the Lord your God, and rejoice in all your undertakings in which the Lord your God has blessed you."

I hope these verses encourage you in whatever your fears or endeavors are this week.  The truth that God is always bigger than myself, my ideals or anything I possess myself is comforting, humbling and will help me remain on the right track.  Knowing that I'm not alone in the gray, deep ocean of school keeps me afloat as well.

Semi-new dress for school. (Thanks, Ivan!) 







First day of school vibes...

My new reality for the next 18 months:  Homework on bed for the win. 

Calloused Hands and A Punched Nose

When my thumb rubs around the inside of my palm I feel all the callouses I've had for years.  I secretly love them and hope they never go away.  They represent years cleaning houses, maneuvering vacuums and carrying buckets. Even though I don't do that kind of work like I used to, I love that the callouses are still there reminding me to never forget.  Nowadays, whenever I do any heavy house or yard work I feel the skin on my hands get a little more worn and tough, almost like they remember a time they were once in a more laborious state.

I'd like to think that sometimes we can become calloused to the harshness of life that is not physical as well.  Things like negative self talk and insults from other people (even if it's meant to be funny).  I remember the first time a doctor snapped at me.  My pupils probably dilated the size of saucers and my heart sank to the bottom of my chest.  I replayed the incident in my head for longer then Id like to admit.  Now, after a few more times of it happening;  the incident will just roll off like melted butter on a potato.  Do I enjoy it? No. I still get that same feeling I had when it happened the first time, only this time it's much less severe.  Now I don't carry it home and think about it the next day.  I've become calloused or toughened to that aspect of my job.  Alongside that is any negative self talk I've built up over the years.  This runs the gamut from anything regarding physical appearance, personality traits or habits I've accumulated.  I've noticed that I have some of the same thinking patterns I've had for years.  Since they've been in my head for so long I barely notice them.  They are more like a pesky nuisance.  However, if one or two build up subconsciously, I can start to feel pretty lousy and not know why.  A while ago I really started to pick up on this and have really been doing better. I think we can all relate to this in some way.

Unlike calluses that are slowly built up overtime and take a while to develop, getting punched in the nose (unexpectedly) is much different.  First,  you're shocked. There's this brief moment right at onset where you don't feel any pain, because you're so surprised at first.  You think "Why is this happening to me?" or simply "Oh my gosh, I'm getting punched in the nose!" Then milliseconds later the pain sets in.  Deep pain.  Weird pain from nerves you forgot were there because you don't get punched in the nose everyday. Suddenly you're aware of your sinuses on the inside of your face that you never noticed before. After the pain come anger. "Who does he/she think they are?!" The sympathetic nervous system (SNS or "fight to flight response") is in overdrive and you want to fight back, run, and give this person a piece of your mind all at once.  After the anger, regardless of what you did with your response is some lingering pain that stays with you for a few hours or days depending on the severity of the nose punch.  After a few days the bruising sets in, yet you've built an acceptance to the event.  Life goes on and there are other things to think about and responsibilities to complete. Yet every time you pass a mirror and see the bruises on your face the memories quickly come back.  The place you were at, who you were with, the smells and even what you said before it happened can flood your mind.  It's normal to even relive a stage in the emotions you experienced when it happened.  Every nose-punch story is different and has it's unique twists and turns, but those are the general stages one goes through with a punch to the face.

 Like callouses not just being physical, getting punched in the nose doesn't have to be either. a few general examples are finding out close friends are talking about you, discovering someone you trust turned their back on you, a boyfriend/ spouse cheated on you, attacks for no reason or finding out someone stole from you.  If anything like this happens it's gut wrenching and an unfortunate pivotal life moment.

The motivation for this post is because it's personal.  A few weeks ago this figuratively happened to me in the form of a snappy, rude text.  I was completely blindsided by this person and it was insulting on a few levels.  With out going into the dirty details or complicity of it, I'll just say this message was based on something that actually happened, but was totally untrue of me.   I'll try to describe the stages I went through as they directly correlate with physically being punched in the nose.  First, the shock came.  I opened my phone and read a few highlight words from the text and immediately felt the heart race.  Thank goodness my boyfriend was there. Next came the pain.  I pulled off to the side of road to read the message clearer while all the more feeling a mix of shock and pain at the same time.  Next came the adrenaline and wanting to make the situation right in my own way. "She doesn't understand! We need to call her!"  My mom and I tried to reach out to this person, but it didn't really get us anywhere.  Both my poor mother and I lost sleep that night.  Anger was definitely in my blood and that's an emotion I'm not used to feeling.  I wanted to give this person a piece of my mind.  The next day and a few days after the resolution phase came.  It sure took its sweet time coming though.  A lot of thought, prayer and diversional activity later;  I'm confidently still in the resolution phase.  The dust has settled so-to-say and the person is aware of the actual facts.  I did want to talk to this person face to face, but time and opportunity has not allowed.  I look forward to that time though for proper closure.  Maybe it's best that it's been a few weeks so we're all more calm and rational.  Even just writing about this has made me emotionally relive the event.

If this experience this summer taught me anything it's to ALWAYS KNOW THE FACTS BEFORE ASSUMING ANYTHING.  Especially if you're going to judge or message another person and take any quick action. This whole thing could have easily been avoided had this person simply known the story. Knowing the story comes by asking questions. This person had a right to feel the way they did based on the story they knew.  However, the story didn't come from the right source. Regardless of if the story was true or not, the reaction was inappropriate.  I know I have been quick to overreact in the past, but now I'm more aware of how my reactions affect others.  I also learned it's normal, okay and actually good to feel emotions like anger.  It's how you follow through with them that matters.  Based off scripture we should go to the offending person and talk it out.  This is a challenge, but the best way for closure.

I hope you all enjoy the remaining end of this glorious summer!
Peace and Love

25 Things

Hello readers near and far!

I'm coming at you live from a beautiful, yet undisclosable location.  I am staying at a place that is nothing short of paradise in my opinion. For some reason there's nothing like staying somewhere else for a fresh dose of inspiration and for a chance to recalibrate priorities. This summer has been running as quickly as dry sand through open fingers. When my birthday rolls around, (August 9, hollaaa!!) that is my cue that this warm season isn't getting any longer and I ought to enjoy and savor it for all its worth.

Since my birthday was yesterday I thought it would be fun to think of 25 things I learned while I was 25.  My day was kind of quiet yesterday (just how this introvert likes it) which gave me ample time to reflect on the past year.

1. God answers the smallest, most small scaled prayers as well as the big prayers.  I've seen this happen so many times this past year.

2. Acne doesn't go away in the late teens.

3. Running remains the number one way to destress, get out complicated thoughts, sort through emotions, enjoy scenery and listen to new music all while getting a workout.

4.  You can't control how people will react to situations.  You can only control how you respond.

5. It is always best to completely listen to what someone is saying or asking, process it, and then speak.

6. Routine is great, but it should never hinder you from seeing what else world has to offer.

7. Spontaneous day trips are more than fun getaways.  By taking time for a quick trip away; you are essentially looking at the world through a different lens and will return to your life with a piece of your travels in your heart forever.

8. It is always worth it to drive two hours for hot doughnuts and one hour for fresh cookies just because.

9.  Friendships are amazing and a breath of fresh air.  Long time friends, new friends, church friends and work friends all have a special place in my heart.

10. Struggle loves isolation and breeds in the lie that one is all alone.  Finding someone who has dealt with the same issues brings light to the darkness, proves no one is alone and provides accountability and companionship.

11. There is no price tag for peace of mind.

12. Embrace the qualities that make you unlike anyone else.  At the end of the day it's how you were made.  The world needs your uniqueness.  It was created for a reason, and deserves to be celebrated.  Life is too short to dull your sparkle, just for the sake of fitting in.

13.  Before drawing to any rash, fast conclusions; it is always best to hear out the whole story and then react appropriately.

14.  People will let you down.  Friends, family, church people, health care workers, boyfriends, girlfriends, educators, employees and employers.  I will let people down.  People are humans thus fallible.  There is a fine balance of learning to trust, yet not putting all your faith in one person no matter how awesome they are. Only God is 100% faithful and deserving of our 100% trust.

15.  Ice cream can turn into the perfect meal anytime of day.  Pairing it with coffee is a magical combination.

16. Really when you least expect it, a really great guy will come around.

17.  Smiling, positivity and being on time will always go far.

18. It's good to have big, wild dreams as well as practical tasks to conquer daily.

19.  Education is forever and knowledge is power.  This fall I will be attending Eastern Mennonite University to pursue my Bachelors of Science in Nursing.

20. Stretching is so good for your body (especially as it ages.)

21. Having to let go or  making it known you need help is not a sign of weakness, but rather a sign of strength.

22. A hot shower with some good smelling soap has almost the same effect as a run in terms of feeling refreshed.

23. Having less clothes and "stuff" allow for clearer thinking a greater creativity with making outfits.

24. Instead of holding onto them, getting rid of clothes that once fit (or look cool, but don't fit well)  is very refreshing.  I used to like to hold onto items for nostalgia, my mom liked it,  or maybe by some off chance I'd be a size 0 again.  However, I think those day are far over and I'm happy with a more streamlined wardrobe.

25.  Accepting correction is a sign of maturity and willingness to grow.  Taking responsibility shows true womanhood/ manhood.  However don't let ANYONE undermine you or try to define your worth. This world is full of weak, insecure people who feel better by putting others down.  Do what you can to keep those people out of your life.  Keep your back straight and head high.  You're unique, special and here for a reason.

Well, thats a wrap.  And just like that I'm 26.  I have so much more to learn and look forward to continuing sharing thoughts through this medium.  If you have any questions, want to chat or hang out; hit me up!  I hope you are able to savor the sweetness and warmth the rest of the summer has to offer.

One of the highlights of being 25 was going to NYC multiple times.  Here's some of my favorite pics.

Running Around

And into the open I'll fly and I'll soar
To a place where Im free
Where no one keeps score

Why I love running
And what I learned in the process

Lately and for a long time I feel as though I've been a closet runner.  What I mean by that is it's not the first thing I like to talk about and I don't like to advertise how much I love it.  The reasoning behind this is because I don't have any outstanding talent in the sport.  I never placed in a state meet, I normally don't run races and I wouldn't consider myself as hardcore as other people.  Nonetheless, I love it and have been running for a steady ten years.

It all started with the seventh grade mile in gym class. Having never pegged myself as the athletic type I figured this would just be another humiliating feat to add onto my junior high insecurities.  When the whistle blew I was off and surprisingly found that I was staying with some of the people I thought would blow me in the dust.  When the race was over I felt an exhilaration and sense of freedom I never experienced.  I learned that running made me happy and I could accomplish something I didn't think was possible.

Around this time a few people talked to me about going out for track.  I really wanted to, but fear of failure was holding be back. I told them I wasn't ready.  I would go for runs by myself, but dreamed I had the courage to participate on a team.  Looking back, those were really precious times because I was teaching myself how to run longer distances and set a pace.

When I was fourteen I had some difficult personal issues going on in my life.  I ran to distract myself, sort out emotions and relinquish control I felt I had no sense of.  I learned that no matter what I went through in life I would have a physical, tangible activity I could do that would help me feel better.

I ran track all four years in high school, but really only peaked my junior and senior year.  I remember my freshman year I dreamed of being a sprinter, but found I was more suited for longer distances.  I wasn't thrilled at first and the training was brutal.  I got last place and even lapped by older girls in a lot of the races.  The glue that kept me stuck to running was an amazing coach and teammates.  No matter where I was on the track or in a race I could hear either Coach Duane or one of the distance girls yelling words of encouragement.  Through the years, my coach was always just as excited about a new personal best time no matter what level I was running at.  I learned in high school that running is a skill, a sport, and something almost sacred.  It requires time and attention to detail.  My time running in high school set such a solid foundation on inner strength and stamina that I would need later in life.

When I was seventeen I had another difficult event in my life. Sometimes I felt alone in a vast grey ocean by myself with only a life jacket keeping me barley above the roaring waves.  Other times I felt like an animal at the zoo.  Tons of people staring at me through glass and feeling somewhat on display.  While people's intentions were good, I hated the attention and feeling as though our problems were for all the world to see. Those were rough days of either feeling completely alone or in the center of some terrible attention I had no desire to be in.  Running was something that I turned to once again. I would run all the time.  When my feelings were swelling inside me I would run.  I would also run to forget temporarily and to transport myself to some alternative world where all I needed to worry about was the playlist on my iPod.  I would push myself to go harder and longer. I enjoyed the pain I felt physically because it made me forget the emotional pain.  I had something to turn to and lean on when it felt like I had nothing.  Eventually this led to some health issues.  Bradycardia, orthostatic hypotension, amenorrhea, weight loss and low potassium did not look good on me.  This was when running taught me balance at the time in my life the word "balance" was the stupidest word, ever. I was medically forced to take time off.  As devastating as this was, I was able to realize just how much I loved the sport.  I did everything to get better as fast as I could. I took six weeks off a crucial time in training, but still came back to run some decent times.  This time in life taught me to dig deep, rely on God and take better care of myself.

After high school I went to Australia to do Youth With A Mission.  Most mornings I would run before class to the Pacific Ocean.  I have some of the greatest memories of the sweet Australian sunshine on my back as I would meander through the city of Surfers Paradise.  I would sit by the beach for a while and just absorb everything I was learning in classes and in life.  The ocean breeze and soft sand always kept me there longer then I intended.  These morning runs gave me stability and normalcy as I was a nineteen year old small town girl living in a different country.  I learned that no matter where I go or how much my life changes, running will keep me grounded.

Into my early adulthood I've still consistently run.  Some seasons I've run more and some less. When late nights of studying would leave me brain fried I would go for a quick shake-out.  I would return more rejuvenated and able to retain more.  If I was overwhelmed by the insurmountable amount of reading ahead of me I would run to procrastinate, but somehow it made my tasks seem more manageable.   If I run before work I find I'm less stressed and think clearer. Little things won't get to me as much.  Now my life is stable and so is my running.  My training regime is boring, but I absolutely love it.  I feel so lucky to be able to do what I do. As I venture in adulthood I'm learning that life is a process.  There are ups and downs just like training. There are exciting times, times of stagnancy and times of challenge.  Through all times I learned that the best way to get through and process anything is to just put one foot in front of the other.

So here I am, no longer a closet runner.  I encourage everyone out there to do what makes them feel alive and to give that life to others.  

My little place in the big world

I firmly believe everyone should have a place to escape from the stress of life.  A place to pray, to think, to dream and to consider possibilities beyond boundaries that society places.  This place shouldn't be fancy or expensive to get to, but rather easily accessible.

My place has always been along the river.  Anyone who would happen to remotely glance at my social media accounts would see I love taking pictures along the Susquehanna River.  For me it's more then a cool place to take pictures and post to Facebook once in a while.  Since I grew up about 1,000 feet from the river it has always been a place I loved to go.   Now I live a twenty five minute drive away, but I still find myself going there just as often as when I lived at home.

Today as I was running the trail I did many times before I thought of all the experiences I had throughout my life along the three mile stretch.  It was where I learned how to pick out rocks that looked like certain shapes to paint with my Grandma.  It was where I had my first date, my first kiss, my first real star gaze, my first picnic and many other momumental occasions in my life.  When I had my first heart brake I went to a secluded part of river and cried for hours.  When I had my first patient death I stayed strong at work, but when I clocked out I drove straight to the river.  With my knees tucked to chest I cried for the loss and contemplated my strength as a caregiver.  After almost  every test in nursing school I would reduce the anxiety of not knowing my score yet by either running along the trail or just staring up at the sky praying I passed.

It's hard to think of a time where there was an important decision or pressing situation and I didn't go to river.  It's the place in the world I feel closest to God.  It's the place where I'm free. God has answered prayers and worked in my life that I know have been a result of the prayers I prayed along the river.  Some of them are concrete and I would love to share them, and others are just between Him and I.

The river has shared in my greatest victories and defeats.  It sees me almost everyday through all seasons.  I know the best places for a spring picnic.  I will drop everything to go for a run in the summer.  When Autumn comes I'll watch the leaves on the trees change colors on the hills across the river.  During winter I love when the water turns an icy blue and the snow rests on the bare trees.

If you're my friend you may have walked the river with me.  And if you did, thank you.  By walking with me you're speaking my love language and joining me in my biggest pastime.

If you have a place you go that means something to you, share it!  I love to learn about places that hold significance to others.  If you don't have one yet I encourage you to find one.  It could be as small as a bedroom or as large as a soccer field.  As long as you can get there often and enjoy it.

The light is always on in the break room

So long time no post. Seriously, I don't mean to start with some sort of apology for not keeping up with this like I intended to because the only one who set up some sort of expectation about how often this blog would be updated was myself. I didn't want to start blogging because something new, crazy or exciting was happening in my life; but rather because writing brings me freedom. It's easy for me to settle into a rhythm of life that does not leave enough time for doing things like writing. Mainly because it requires outside thought, time and some sort of structure. So here I sit (or rather lie snuggled up with my laptop in bed) on this warm winter morning. Life is good, I am good and I look forward to sharing with you.


When I woke up this morning I looked at my messy room, glanced at my phone and was disappointed for waking up too early. I went downstairs and and realized I forgot something at the store yesterday. As I ate I thought about what I would wear to church. In my head I could hear my mom telling me I need new clothes because I've been wearing the same outfits since high school. She wants me to buy new clothes, but lately I just haven't had the interest. Then I start to feel bad for not having an interest in fashion like her, and maybe if I cared more my life in some strange way would be better. I look at the coffee maker, see the level is empty and wished remembered to fill it up last night. I look at my texts and realize I didn't text someone back. In the first thirty minutes Ive been up I've had at least twenty negative thoughts pertaining to my actions, appearance and lifestyle.


Nothing bad or uncommon happened this morning. I'm not writing this because I woke up unusually depressed or pessimistic about myself. In fact had I not taken the time to write, this morning would have gone down in the books as just another typical morning. What really surprises me is how many critical thoughts cross my mind relating to me as a person or my actions. When I slowed down this morning and gave this some thought I was sad because I hadn't even given myself the grace to be up for a whole hour to live a day free from negative thoughts.


Considering what others may view of a person sometimes has little correlation with how that person actually views themselves. A person could have best best spouse, job, grades, looks, friends, car or house and still be unable to look past their own deficits and shortcomings. We can only see the tip of the iceberg in others. Therefore it may surprise us that those who we think have the character of Mother Teresa or have the cleanest house may be struggling with the same feelings of self negativity, inadequacies or insecurity.


I could always do more, I could always be better. I could always do more, I could always be better.


This is the little voice in my head that allows for self deprecation to flow so easily. It's not even like I feel this is a bad thing and by some people's standards may even be considered a good way to live. I mean, how is progress ever made without the mental push of the individual to get things done. However when I look at all the qualities I lack, all the qualities I want and what I need to do to get there ; it is often seems daunting and overreaching. So instead of taking steps in the right direction to get there I find staying in a place of complacency and stagation is easier. Being hard on myself breeds nothing productive, but rather the opposite. Instead of moving onward, I'll stay stuck in the same place with some negative self esteem to go alongside it.


If I knew last night I would be writing on this topic I would have been surprised, (but also overjoyed because I was really getting down on myself for not blogging for a while…See how easy it starts…) I wouldn't say I have some terrible self esteem issue that warrants any particular attention. A while a ago that was not the case, but I think I've come a long way. However when I look at my thought patterns a little more closely I realize the journey is far from over.


I think a lot more people around us are in the same boat, but it's easy to feel like we are the only ones. Beautiful Sue has the best fiancé, her amazing parents are funding her lavish wedding, she's great at her job, runs a non-profit, cans produce from her own garden and everyone loves her. What would she have have in common with me when it comes to self negativity? I mean what does she even have to be negative about? The funny thing is there no line of accomplishment that one can reach to be free from this struggle. Even if we fed a whole third world country or kept our home pristine for a year we would still find something we're not doing right. We will never be enough and no level of accomplishment will suffice for negating all feelings of our inadequacies.


What do we do? Where do we start? If I can't ever be enough, what's the point of trying? I think the first step is realizing that we can't fix this on our own. Running a marathon, saving money and crossing things off the never ending to-do list may temporarily help. But the next day there will be more goals to achieve and more opportunities to mess up. We know we are fallible, so it's bound to happen. I know when I acknowledge this and set my heart on Christ these feelings subside. Here are some verses that help me refocus when I feel like I don't measure up.


"To the praise and the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved." Eph 1:6


"Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good working in you will complete it until the day of Jesus." Phil 1:6


"There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Rom 8:1


When we seek Christ and discover his acceptance for us is when we will fully be able to accept ourselves. Despite his perfection and our sins he loves us, embraces us and desires relationship. If he who created the world and was perfect accepts us as children, I think we can stop being so hard on ourselves. Everyone is on their own journey with this and it's not our job to compare ours with anyone else's. When I'm feeling inadequate or like I'm not not accomplishing what I need to my first instinct is not to run to God. This is because I see the Lord as perfect and myself as not, so therefore he will judge me just like I do to myself. It works exactly the opposite. Classic Sunday School answer will confirm this, however when it's experienced in real life it goes from head knowledge to heart knowledge. What a peaceful feeling it is to know we not only accepted the way we are, but loved and embraced.


In daily life when my the mantra in my head will fire about me not being good enough, not doing enough and overall life negativities; I'll think about my break room at work. Hospitals never close, and the same kind of show is always running. When I clock out of work and go to the break room to get my coat the work flow doesn't stop, and when I get to work 12 hours later the show doesn't start because I just there. No, the workflow has been continuing the whole time. People are working hard, and the light in the break room never turns off. At my workplace and so many workplaces the job is never done, no matter how many hours one works. In life, there will always be another task to complete, some bill to pay or something we want to procrastinate on. Even if I spend more time medicating on God's word and getting better with negative thoughts there will still be some sort of outstanding task I need to do. I think acknowledging this is important. I look forward to learning how to balance my life in a way that I can get things done while at the same time giving myself grace to know when I need a break. We need to find times to rest and reflect and just be sometimes. This is necessary for a more centered life.


I hope you have a great week and remember:

At least I'll always know

When my toes grow numb from walking home in the rain on dark, cold nights…
At least I'll always know I'm not far from a warm house.

For the times when my thoughts run wild and creativity is flooding my mind…
At least I'll always know I have many avenues to express myself.

The times I feel like I can never obtain perfection at my job…
At least I'll always know I have something better to strive for.

For all the work scenarios I take home with me in my thoughts…
At least I'll always know I'm doing something I'm passionate about.

The times my sides have hurt from laughing too hard…
At least I'll always know it's easy for me to find humor in any situation.

When I think about all the unanswered questions I've had in my life...
At least I'll always know that the more mysteries I pursue, the more I find out just how little I know.

When I miss my friends who moved far away…
At least I'll always know I know the coolest people who live life fearlessly, and for that I am constantly inspired.

For the many times I lament about the clothes on my floor…
At least I'll always know I have options of clothing to wear and two hands to pick them up.

When the winter cold sets in and I start to get sad…
At least I'll always know I know how good the warm sun feels.

On the days my body hurts, but I want to run anyway…
At least I'll always know I'll never love my love for running.

When my face turns red from reading past journal entries…
At least I'll always know that I'm constantly progressing.

When song lyrics play in my mind at all times during the day…
At least I'll always know I'll never lose my love for music.

Those times that I need to get out and escape the momentary complications of daily life…
At least I'll always know the river will always be there and flowing in the same direction.

The times I've been insecure about feeling "different"…
At least I'll always know that I'm not like anyone else.

For those nights when the clatter of wind wakes me up from running across my window panes…
At least I'll always know I have a shelter to protect me.

When I hear the sound of the door open or smell something sweet baking in the kitchen…
At least I'll always know I have the dearest housemates.

For all the places I wish to travel and sites I day dream of seeing…
At least I'll always know I'll never lose my love for adventure.

And those days I wonder If I'll ever find love…
At least I'll always know I'm capable of loving.

The times I've stood back and seen how the Lord has guided my life…
At least I'll always know that I have a savior who knows me personally.

Pieces

I spent this past week in the hometown I grew up in.  I was housesitting for some friends while they were on vacation. Marietta, PA. There is no place like it, and that's what makes it so wonderful.  I love getting the chance to slow down, take care of dogs and spend more time with my family.

Friday evening I took a run across town like I have so many times in my life.  In Marietta the nights are darker, but somehow I feel more safe, more secure and more free to be myself.  Under the dimly lit street lights I ran down my town's main street admiring resident's newly set-up Christmas decorations.  For over two miles down the main part of town I only saw three cars and one pedestrian.  

As I make my way further down east I pass my the home of my Grandparents.  I see the glow of the television and light of family room on.  I can picture my grandparents watching either Jeopardy or NBC news.  I smile at the predicability and steadiness of their schedules, and how at any given time I can probably guess what they are doing even if it's been a few weeks since I've seen them.  As I run I continue to think how blessed I was to have grandparents that lived so close to me my whole life.  I have always known I was never far from a hug, a visit, a hot cup of coffee, a piece of pie or even an adventure.  My mind flooded with memories from my childhood at their house playing creative games with my cousins, making paper dolls with grandma and watching Disney movies after school.  I think back to the visit I had with them two days before and how good it was to see them, catch up and reconnect.  Coming off the heels of Thanksgiving I am reminded of just how special these memories and times of reconnection are.  The cool of evening sets in through my layers and into my skin as I run back to the place I am staying.  

Life changes fast in sixteen hours.  Life can change fast in an instant, a blink of an eye or a flash of fire. 

Around noon on Saturday I watched in shock and disbeleif as my grandparents home was lit up in flames. The urgent look on the faces of the brave first responders told the truth that this was a big deal. Relief poured over me when I realized they were both safe and sound. Fire companies from numerous departments came to offer assistance.  Community members from all over showed up to see what was happening.  I found my family in the midst of the crowd and we just held each other for while not quite knowing what to say.  My mind was a haze and head was just spinning.  I thought back to the run I had in the exact location the evening before where everything was peaceful, predictable and secure.  Now the circumstances were extremely different and life was changing before our very eyes.  I never watched a fire like I  did yesterday.  Just when I thought the smoke would clear and it would be over, more flames would set in.  I watched the valiant effort of brave men and woman using strength and knowledge to combat the flames and smoke.  I saw windows brake and people climbing on roofs to get to the root of the problem.  Even at a distance and standing on the sidelines the smell of smoke was so powerful that I couldn't imagine what the firefighters were going through.

Sometimes food is the answer to everything.  After a few hours of watching the horror of the fire, the scene was settling.  The investigation is still going on, but the fire was out and they were about to board  up the house. Dominos heard about the situation and donated many pizzas to our family. My cousin lives a block away from my grandparents, so we were able to come together and share a meal of pizza and ham pot pie. 

My grandparents spent the night in her guest room.  I asked my cousin if I could get the room ready for them.  She said sure, thanked me, and gave me a tight hug.  What she didn't know is I was just as, if not, more thankful.  Many aspects of the day went wrong and the fix was beyond anyone's control.  It is such a helpless feeling to see something tragic happen before your eyes to someone you love.  I wanted so bad to stop the fire, hit rewind and have the whole thing never happen.  I wanted to sit in my Grandma's kitchen like I did two days ago, talk about drawing and have everything be normal.  Instead I had a mattress as my canvas, a fitted sheet and some blankets.  For the next twenty minutes I made the bed in the best way I knew how.  I thought about my old school nursing teacher dropping a quarter on the sheet and watching it bounce.  I folded the sheets at the top, backed up reassessed it, and then did it again.  My wanting the room to be perfect was my small way of wanting everything to be okay.  It gave me a tiny grasp of control and way to help them spend their first night away from home a little better.  

Tonight I ran across town again just like I did two nights ago.  The cold night air was just as refreshing and now tonight Christmas lights on garland illuminated the main section of Market st.  Peace and exhilaration came over me as I passed the twinkling lights, beautiful garland and the pattern of lantern, star, lantern, star.  As I got closer to the home of my grandparents the smell set in first.  Like a bad memory the smell of old smoke lingered from at least a block away.  And just like elevated troponins after a heart attack, the bad smell was a reminder that something horrible happened.  I watched from a distance as a minivan slowed down to see the house and then drove away into the night.  

I ran to the house and my heart kind of stopped (if that's even possible to still be alive.)  I thought of all the memories I made of a lifetime of going to Grandma and Pop's.  Summers on the porch swing, sleepovers, hot chocolate and cinnamon toast, exploring the attic and admiring my Grandma's artwork.  I stood there alone, looked at the house and almost felt betrayed by something inanimate.  "How could you burn on fire?!" I wanted to yell.  

As I ran back I continued to think and reminisce.  It occurred to me that all of the memories had nothing to due with the house, but my grandparents that lived there.  They lived and dwelled there and were the one's responsible for creating all the amazing memories I grew up with.  They raised my dad and his two brothers, worked hard and lived a good life in the strong two story brick house.  They have stories to tell and more lessons I can learn about being a hard worker and good person.  Shelter is good, and necessary for survival, but what is more important are the people that live inside.  They are okay and for that I am most thankful.  The road ahead is long.  I can't really fathom it now.  I desire for this experience to bring us closer together. I hope and expect that good will come out of this situation that we can't even imagine at the moment.

Thank you to all the firefighters, police officers, Red Cross volunteers and community members for your diligence, care and support during this time.

Pieces

I spent this past week in the hometown I grew up in.  I was housesitting for some friends while they were on vacation. Marietta, PA. There is no place like it, and that's what makes it so wonderful.  I love getting the chance to slow down, take care of dogs and spend more time with my family.

Friday evening I took a run across town like I have so many times in my life.  In Marietta the nights are darker, but somehow I feel more safe, more secure and more free to be myself.  Under the dimly lit street lights I ran down my town's main street admiring resident's newly set-up Christmas decorations.  For over two miles down the main part of town I only saw three cars and one pedestrian.  

As I make my way further down east I pass my the home of my Grandparents.  I see the glow of the television and light of the family room on.  I can picture my grandparents watching either Jeopardy or NBC news.  I smile at the predicability and steadiness of their schedules, and how at any given time I can probably guess what they are doing even if it's been a few weeks since I've seen them.  As I run I continue to think how blessed I was to have grandparents that lived so close to me my whole life.  I have always known I was never far from a hug, a visit, a hot cup of coffee, a piece of pie or even an adventure.  My mind flooded with memories from my childhood at their house playing creative games with my cousins, making paper dolls with grandma and watching Disney movies after school.  I think back to the visit I had with them two days before and how good it was to see them, catch up and reconnect.  Coming off the heels of Thanksgiving I am reminded of just how special these memories and times of reconnection are.  The cool of evening sets in through my layers and into my skin as I run back to the place I am staying.  

Life changes fast in sixteen hours.  Life can change fast in an instant, a blink of an eye or a flash of fire. 

Around noon on Saturday I watched in shock and disbeleif as my grandparents home was lit up in flames. The urgent look on the faces of the brave first responders told the truth that this was a big deal. Relief poured over me when I realized they were both safe and sound. Fire companies from numerous departments came to offer assistance.  Community members from all over showed up to see what was happening.  I found my family in the midst of the crowd and we just held each other for while not quite knowing what to say.  My mind was a haze and head was just spinning.  I thought back to the run I had in the exact location the evening before where everything was peaceful, predictable and secure.  Now the circumstances were extremely different and life was changing before our very eyes.  I never watched a fire like I  did yesterday.  Just when I thought the smoke would clear and it would be over, more flames would set in.  I watched the valiant effort of brave men and woman using strength and knowledge to combat the flames and smoke.  I saw windows brake and people climbing on roofs to get to the root of the problem.  Even at a distance and standing on the sidelines the smell of smoke was so powerful that I couldn't imagine what the firefighters were going through.

Sometimes food is the answer to everything.  After a few hours of watching the horror of the fire, the scene was settling.  The investigation is still going on, but the fire was out and they were about to board  up the house. Dominos heard about the situation and donated many pizzas to our family. My cousin lives a block away from my grandparents, so we were able to come together and share a meal of pizza and ham pot pie. 

My grandparents spent the night in her guest room.  I asked my cousin if I could get the room ready for them.  She said sure, thanked me, and gave me a tight hug.  What she didn't know is I was just as, if not, more thankful.  Many aspects of the day went wrong and the fix was beyond anyone's control.  It is such a helpless feeling to see something tragic happen before your eyes to someone you love.  I wanted so bad to stop the fire, hit rewind and have the whole thing never happen.  I wanted to sit in my Grandma's kitchen like I did two days ago, talk about drawing and have everything be normal.  Instead I had a mattress as my canvas, a fitted sheet and some blankets.  For the next twenty minutes I made the bed in the best way I knew how.  I thought about my old school nursing teacher dropping a quarter on the sheet and watching it bounce.  I folded the sheets at the top, backed up reassessed it, and then did it again.  My wanting the room to be perfect was my small way of wanting everything to be okay.  It gave me a tiny grasp of control and way to help them spend their first night away from home a little better.  

Tonight I ran across town again just like I did two nights ago.  The cold night air was just as refreshing and now tonight Christmas lights on garland illuminated the main section of Market st.  Peace and exhilaration came over me as I passed the twinkling lights, beautiful garland and the pattern of lantern, star, lantern, star.  As I got closer to the home of my grandparents the smell set in first.  Like a bad memory the smell of old smoke lingered from at least a block away.  And just like elevated troponins after a heart attack, the bad smell was a reminder that something horrible happened.  I watched from a distance as a minivan slowed down to see the house and then drove away into the night.  

I ran to the house and my heart kind of stopped (if that's even possible to still be alive.)  I thought of all the memories I made of a lifetime of going to Grandma and Pop's.  Summers on the porch swing, sleepovers, hot chocolate and cinnamon toast, exploring the attic and admiring my Grandma's artwork.  I stood there alone, looked at the house and almost felt betrayed by something inanimate.  "How could you burn on fire?!" I wanted to yell.  

As I ran back I continued to think and reminisce.  It occurred to me that all of the memories had nothing to due with the house, but my grandparents that lived there.  They lived and dwelled there and were the one's responsible for creating all the amazing memories I grew up with.  They raised my dad and his two brothers, worked hard and lived a good life in the strong two story brick house.  They have stories to tell and more lessons I can learn about being a hard worker and good person.  Shelter is good, and necessary for survival, but what is more important are the people that live inside.  They are okay and for that I am most thankful.  The road ahead is long.  I can't really fathom it now.  I desire for this experience to bring us closer together. I hope and expect that good will come out of this situation that we can't even imagine at the moment.

Thank you to all the firefighters, police officers, Red Cross volunteers and community members for your diligence, care and support during this time.

Some Rain and a Sprain

"You might just have to go on light duty for a while" 
"There is no such thing as 'light duty' on my unit, Doctor." 


I try to half smile as we discuss the prognosis of my pesky ankle injury.  I sit in the small exam room with harsh lighting and posters telling me to cheer up.


 Last week I was overly exuberant about purchasing a long board for my twenty fifth birthday.  I was having a blast and making jokes about pulling muscles related to my old age. As fate would have it I sprained/ pulled something in my right heel.  Now one week later I am hobbling around and looking at my long board with longing (haha to word play) and a little bit of anger.  Every step is painful.  I get stares and looks of sympathy from people at the store.  People offer to hold the door more often or extend extra politeness, which is certainly kind.  However, I really do not prefer the extra attention. 


This whole week has been such a journey.   I have been trying to keep a positive attitude and learn what I can.  First thing I'm learning is to be patient with my body.  Things don't just change overnight.  We live in such a fast paced, instant world.  We have access to anything we want to know right away, food on demand and quick fixes for any problems anytime we need them.  Our bodies still operate the same way they did hundreds of years ago.  Our patience just has dramatically decreased.   I tell my patients this all the time.  The body sometimes just needs to take its course and heal.  Now I am eating the words to my own sermon.  Slowly with time, love, naproxen, ice and elevation I'm hoping it will heal up soon.


I have also learned to not take my health for granted.  This summer I went on many runs, hikes, bike rides and late night walks without a care in the world.  I've worked twelve hour shifts and come home to do more work or workout right after.  I don't say this to come across as wonder woman, but to say that I took my healthy body for granted. I assumed my body would always work the way it should and had no question it would.  Now  the most basic of tasks take me twice as long.  My brain thinks quicker but my body is slower to get there.  I look out my window as runners pass by in the early morning and late evening. Apart of my heart aches because that was me a week ago and now walking to bathroom is a challenge.  I see groups kids on scooters or dribbling basketballs down the street and my ankle starts to hurt just watching them run around.  With my foot propped up on a beanbag I lie in my bed and watch the action out my second story window with only a novel to keep me company.  I think to myself that when I feel a hundred percent again I will be thankful for everyday I can walk pain free.


The last thing I am learning is something I am still working on and the learning is ongoing as this journey continues. It is fear of the unknown.  All the 'what-ifs' and questions that swirl my mind as the hours pass and the sharp pain continues to persist with each and every step.  What about work?  When will the pain stop? How much activity is too much? What if it gets more serious the more I walk?  All of these questions my family doctor and I do not seem to have the answers to.  This challenging time has given a great opportunity to trust in God and strengthen my prayer life because in this moment I genuinely feel weak.  I know that when I am weak, he is strong.  That is Sunday School 101, but when the times actually happen where you need to trust because there is no other option it all becomes more real.   I also believe that God can heal this and I continue to pray and believe for that as well.  I have realized that I have little control of the unknown.  Stewing over the situation will not lesson the pain or make me better.  Continuing to trust God, pray for him to give continued strength and healing is the only way to peace of mind.   


This whole experience has also given me the ability to be more empathetic with those who struggle to walk, have disabilities or other injuries as well.  If I have a patient with pain I feel like I can resonate more with their particular needs.  I see the world a little different now in terms of distances to walk places or how much doing an activity will provoke the pain.  I have a deeper understanding for their needs, and for that I'm glad to have this difficult time for that reason. 


I hope this late summer is treating you well.  Be thankful for the health you have or continue to press on if you're struggling with pain as well.  Also try to look for learning opportunities in the challenges because during these times we will grow the most.

Just a Little Postcard

For the past three years I've lived at the same place.  It's been such an experience having so many neighbors in every direction.  One mom that lives down the street sticks out in my mind as person I would like to be like someday.

I started to notice her two years ago when she would walk her children to school.  I would sit at the same place in my living room every morning to study, eat pancakes and drink coffee; but mostly just study.  I always loved the soft morning light, cool morning breeze and the happy chatter as hundreds of children walked to the local junior high.  After the morning rush of middle school kids and traffic settled down she would walk past my house hand in hand with her two children (probably taking the one to the local preschool).  

In the midst of my mind being in a haze from reading about hemoglobin or discovering the fascinating pathophysiology of pneumonia I would hear them coming down the street.  Most times I would hear her kids first;  happily talking about the leaves on the ground or engrossed in a story about how big the monster was or how tall the Jenga tower was last night.  She was always listening and ever present each morning.  She was always asking questions and laughing as her kids told homemade knock knock jokes they made up on the fly.  It was obvious she was making the most of each moment everyday with her children.

What also always impressed me was what she didn't do.  She never yelled at her kids or acted like walking them to school was a hassle.  If they got rowdy she would correct it, but she was never harsh or threatening.  This is what probably stood out to me the most about her and her kids.

As the months rolled on and fall turned into winter I would continue to see them pass everyday.  Their attire changed with the weather from jeans and sweaters to crochet hats and snow boots.  She was still always the same: pleasant, kind, funny and full of life; just as much as her kids.  I would cherish the mental break from studying as they would make their way past my house.

I often thought that she is the type of mom I want to be someday.  She gives me hope that parenting is a joy and also a beautiful challenge.  Since we are only a few houses apart I would see them a lot when I would be out as well.  I would smile, say "Hi" and do the whole pleasant neighborly exchange, but they didn't know what an impact they were making on my life.

For weeks it was on my heart to write her a postcard just to say how much she inspired me.  It was something to affect of how I think she's a great mom, I aspire to like her someday and seeing her with her kids is a bright spot in my day.  Although I thought about it for a while it still took courage for me to do because it was a little out of my comfort zone.  I found a postcard of an art piece that I liked and wrote a simple message on the back.

Writing it was easier then actually taking the action to deliver it.  Being too cheap to buy stamps,  I waited until her and her son went to pick up her daughter at preschool so I could drop it off incognito.  I proofread it a hundred times before I nervously walked down the six houses that separate us to drop the post card off.  On her front porch I put it under the welcome mat so the blustery winter wind wouldn't send it away.  I had fumbled around a bit as to ensure  it was sticking out enough she could see the pretty design yet secure enough it wouldn't blow away.  With a little bit of adrenaline pumping and trying to be mindful of time I ran home; fully cognizant that I probably looked like a complete goon to anyone watching.

When I got home I did some dishes to release any nervous tension and reflect on what I just did.  Apart of me challenged the whole idea and wanted to spring back to her place, pick up the card and forget the idea even crossed my mind.  I mean, I signed the card "Emily, the girl who lives *described house* and wears the blue jacket".  As the water from the faucet started to warm my freezing cold hands I settled into the task I was doing.  I love writing cards and words of encouragement to people, but to people I don't really know is kind of challenging.  As I scrubbed the dried pasta off an old lasagna dish I prayed that God would touch her heart with those words and it wouldn't be about me at all.  Shortly after I felt a peace in my heart and almost an excitement about the whole thing.  I thought of the words of edification and encouragement that I have received over the years.  The ones that have stood out or carried the most weight were from people I would least expect or who didn't know me well but could see my heart.

Fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity until I heard them coming up the street.  They were hand in hand, just like they always were.  I dried the last dish and watched them make their way up the front porch.  I almost laughed when all three of them walked right into the house not seeing the note sticking out the welcome mat!  No one noticed at all, and I couldn't blame them.  It was so frigid that after walking so many blocks it would be my soul purpose as well to get out of the cold and into the house.  Well, mission of encouragement failed.  It would probably blow away with the snow storm they were calling for later this evening and a middle schooler would find it next month when the snow melted away.    Three seconds later the front door opened again.  Much to my surprise her daughter walked out and picked up the post card and brought it inside.  I smiled at the scene I just watched unfold.  So they actually did get it.  Now she was reading the words from the postcard and I just left it at that.  I prayed again that God would speak to her more then any words I could say and then went back to the living room to study.

Its been about a year and a half since that day, and I don't have an amazing conclusion to this story to wrap it up.  She never said anything about it and I certainly didn't either.  I still yet to have a full conversation with her.  When our paths cross now though she smiles extra big like she knows, but I'm still not sure.  I smile too and say "Hello", but not much more.  I live with a bunch of awesome people (and we all wear different colored stuff) so she probably knows it's one of us.  Sometimes I forget about the note and sometimes I wonder what came of it.  I pray sometime I'll have the opportunity or greater courage to get to know her better because she seems like an amazing person I could learn from.  I see her or her husband out with their kids almost everyday.  They smile, laugh and take so much joy in everyday life.  Now it is summer so it's all about bikes, scooters and sidewalk chalk.  It is still so nice to see them out and to have them as neighbors.

Due to the length of time that has past and the inconclusiveness of the story made me hesitate writing this post.  In fact, I started writing this about two weeks ago and just left the tab open.  The story would have more weight if lets say I knew something more powerful came from the note of encouragement.  However, I believe the most amazing things happen that we will never know about.  And honestly I like the mystery a little better then knowing. I like not knowing how she reacted or what came of the note.  It is only for stories sake I kind if wish there was a story to follow through with the action.

When I think back to that day I think of how easy it was, how good I felt afterwards and to encourage others when they inspire me.  I sincerely believe that the most beautiful things in life happen in the  everyday.  We just need the eyes to see and an open heart to embrace them and be inspired.  This will challenge us and lead us toward doing good in our own lives.  Someday, if I'm blessed to have children (long, long, long down the road) I hope I will think back to this family and be reminded of the joy parenting can bring.  Until then I will continue to look for ways to encourage others and be inspired by all that's around me.

I hope you have an amazing week.  Remember what inspires you, but also remember that you have the power to inspire others.  

Beyond Social Media

Last night I posted some pictures on Facebook.  It was a beautiful Friday night, we were in a beautiful spot and I was with some beautiful people.  After dinner together our neighbor friends, my brother and I took our dogs down to the river and went exploring off the trail.  We had some good laughs and nice talks. The memories we captured I'll go back to and smile when they come to mind.  From the looks of what I posted last night and the past few days it may look like my life is positive and maybe outdoorsy.  From the looks of my timeline everything is great.  I'm usually smiling or posting some random thing I'm doing.

But people only see a very small fraction of my life.  No one knew about the feelings of loneliness and doubt I experienced just hours before we went out.  No one saw me sitting on the curb of Wendy's Thursday night at 11:30 pm because I was too tired to cook dinner after work.  No one sees my messy room where half of my clean clothes are still in the wash basket and the other half are slowly becoming friends with the dirty clothes pile.

I would say that I am a happy person.  I have so much to be thankful for.  In fact, many amazing things happen in my life everyday that it would be way overboard if I documented it all.  However, I think a problem can lie if we perceive what others post on Facebook, Instagram and other social media as exactly how their life goes.

Every day there's a few posts related to fitness goals accomplished.  Before and after pictures are documented after the completion of a thirty day shred or sixty days of "clean eating" or whatever.  Despite my best intentions, I can count on one hand how many sit-ups I did this summer (and I was still sore the next day).  And I can promise that the bowls of ice cream  consumed far exceeds that number.  I scroll through social media to see moments captured by happy couples; holding hands and gazing into the sunset in perfect lighting.  I feel a slight pang, because I don't know when that time will come for me.  I see others days, vacations, clean rooms, fitness accomplishments and creative ideas.  It is so easy to feel a sense of inadequacy purely based on what others post on social media.  Sometimes I even feel behind in life or this sense that I'm not where I should be.  The funny thing is that seeing someone's post about a ten mile run never motivated me enough to get out the door and go on one myself.  It just left me feeling like "I should do that..someday, sometime.."

I know I'm not the only one that has felt like their life is less exciting after seeing someone's life changing trip across Central America.  And I also know I'm not the only one who loves scrolling through their news feed when they have a minute.  Social media is good, and I love seeing what my friends are up to who I don't get to see often.  It is also fun to document memories with friends when you're all together and the laughs just keep coming.  The problem starts when we're sitting home alone and we start comparing our lives to other's daily highlights.  We can not get sucked into the comparison trap that is so easy to get tangled in.  Galatians 1:10 says "For am I now seeking approval of man or of God?  Or am I trying to please man?  If I were trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ."  We each have unique lives that are telling a story so amazing that Facebook just can't cover.  We live in such a time of quick, instant gratification that it's hard to remember the inevitability that our lives will have slow times and fun doesn't  always abound every three seconds.  Sometimes we will have nothing to do on a Friday night, and that's okay.  No one is less of a person because of this.  I believe these moments happen more then talked about, but there's this underlying pressure to always needing to be doing something "cool".  I would blame the recent uprise in social media for this because we're constantly bombared with other's daily highlight reels.  I wonder what life was like fifteen years without Facebook. There was probably less keeping in touch with long distance friends, but probably more freedom and contentment because we didn't have access to always see what our friends were up to.

Social media can only capture so much, and we are in control of what we put on.  It only makes sense that we want to post things that capture us at our best.  Everyone has low points daily and in life in general.  Yes, this isn't earth shattering news, but seems to be easy to slip the mind when all we see are certain things. It's also easy for thoughts to creep in like "I'm the only one going through this issue." or "I'm the only one with a boring life."  This is so far from the truth.  We shouldn't go to Facebook for validation for these thoughts, but so often we do. It is only when we learn to embrace our uniqueness with the lives and circumstances we've been given, that we can then generate a positive change in our own lives.  Real change does not come looking outside in on the life of someone else.  Living vicariously through another person does more harm then good.  If we find ourselves starting to feel less than, it is best to just put down the phone, go for a walk and just be thankful for the breath in our lungs.  Each of us has amazing, God given gifts.  We have a heart beat for a reason and we each have so much to offer the world. No amount of trips, friends or workouts make anyone's life better then someone else's.  No matter if you did 400 sit-ups or 400 minus 396; you're life is telling a beautiful story.  And whether or not it is documented on Facebook is besides the point.

This isn't a post to prompt a halt to the social media. However, if comparison is an issue I would encourage it.  Sometimes a break can be refreshing.  How sad would it be if we were so focused on what talents or accomplishments we lacked  (because we were busy comparing ourselves on Facebook) that we missed out on what we were amazing at and created for?

 I hope you enjoy and embrace the normals, highs and even lows that life brings you today.

My Sweet Aunt Emma

Despite my brain being in a fog from a pesky summer head cold, I've been thinking so much about my Aunt Emma since her passing almost two weeks ago.  I needed to write to share my thoughts about how she changed my life and those around her, even toward the end.

My Great Aunt Emma peacefully passed away June 30th at the age of 98.  I had the honor of visiting her bimonthly at Conestoga View.

After signing in I reluctantly grab a visitors pass. It always looks like the past three people who wore the pass used it as a napkin to wipe off their hands after lunch.  I wait for the five minute elevator ride to take me to floor number seven.  The same thoughts run through my head during the ride up: "I could take the steps so much quicker."  "Where is the stair case anyway?"  "How did people get anything done when elevators were so slow in the seventies?" "Am I just being impatient?"  As my thoughts continue to linger eventually the doors open and I'm spit out to my desired floor.

I am immediately introduced to scents of the floor.  Institutional food mixed with bodily fluids mixed with nail polish remover.  I try to tell my brain which smell to focus on to lessen the likelihood of me physically looking like I smell something awful.  Oh look, ladies getting their nails done.  How cute! I am distracted at this adorable site as four elderly ladies sit at the table and fan their fingers for the Resident Assistant to paint their nails.  As endearing as this site is, I continue my mission and scan the common space to look for her.

She is easy to find.  She is sitting in the glider by the window smiling.  She is dressed to the T, and looks like she has been waiting for me all day.  "Hi Aunt Emma! It's Emily!"  I gently touch the top of her hand and  slowly bend down to embrace her for a hug.  I don't want to freak her out because I know with her dementia it will take her a while to remember me. And despite the continuity of my visits I notice her dementia gets worse as time goes, making each visit more of a memory jog.  She doesn't look scared at all by me and even though I know she has no idea who I am yet she embraces me for a strong hug and cheerful greeting.  I am always impressed by the strength of her hugs for being so small.  We sit down in the common area surrounded by others.  She always offers me the best of what she has right away.  Whether it is the comfy glider, or the sandwich she's eating for lunch; her selflessness and desire to see others comfortable is one trait that never left her.

We usually begin our visit by a five minute introduction and explanation of how we are related.   "Now I know I know you, but remind me again; Who ARE you?"  she would ask me every time.  "Now which one's Carol?"  When I would tell her I'm Carol's granddaughter and Michelle's daughter.  Once we sort have those bases covered we would talk about life and what was going on in the Conestoga View world.  "Oh, I love it here."  She would always say.  Then she proceeds to point out the most ordinary things and describe how wonderful they are and how grateful she to be there.  "Look at this chair!  It's so wonderful.  See,  it's right by the window, and I just sit here and look outside."  She smiles and rocks contently in the glider. The sun from the seventh story shines through and gives her short white hair almost a halo appearance. "Now what is it you do?" she asks with such interest.  Depending on the time I would tell her I was in nurses training or I was a nurse.  She smiles so big with familiarity. Nursing was such a big part of Aunt Emma's life that no matter how much of the world she forgets; nursing is so tightly wound in her DNA she will always remember it.  Relief comes over me that we have something we can talk about that she remembers.  I ask about where she worked and the adventures and places nursing took her.  I know she went as far as Colorado and Hawaii to nurse, which back then I'm sure was huge adventure for a Mennonite woman from Akron, PA. Not being able to fully remember locations she says "I've been a lot places and did a lot of things.  Yes, it's good work we do."  We chat a little more about helping people and I tell her how cool I think it is she traveled so much in her career. Aunt Emma received many accolades for being the amazing human and nurse, and  I often would tell her I hope I'm as good of a nurse as she was.  She would smile and at this point the dementia is as far away as it can be.  She grabs my hand, leans in and says "You'll be a good one.  I know it."  With her tendency to repeat herself and the multiple visits, she said this many times.  However,  each time it gave me chills and I silently vow to myself to do my part to make this true.

We continue to chat in the common room when suddenly we here a cry and moan.  Heads turn and attention is drawn to the middle aged man with special needs.  He is sitting on the couch with his legs drawn to his chest.  His face turns cherry red and big, fat tears roll down his face.  It is unclear what provoked the melt down, but the folks don't seemed too concerned.  Apparently this occurs multiple times a day, and these crying episodes are just per his baseline.  Someone offers an "It's okayyy…"  from across the room.  But once people see who it is they just return to what they are doing.  There are nails to paint, pills to pass, and TV to watch.  Aunt Emma sees him, touches my hand and excuses herself from our conversation.  She walks across the room to the couch where the man is sitting.  She puts her hand on his shoulder and gently rubs his back.  The man cries harder and tears are now soaking his sweater. "Let me show you how to fix this." she says referring to his tears.  She reaches up her sleeve and pulls out two used tissues.  She dries the mans tears and then shows him how to do it himself.  She watches as the man fumbles with the tissues and attempts to pat his eyes.  This lesson is easing his crying and he is slowly calming down.  The sobs are turning into soft sniffles.  "Okay." Aunt Emma gently takes the tissues from his hands and refolds them as she's about to reinforce the lesson. "Next time you feel sad you just go like this."  She shows him again how to wipe his tears and blow his nose.  She gives him the tissues for his keeping, pats him again and walks away.  She comes back to me as I try to hold in my own tears.  "He wasn't very happy."  She says.  "Hopefully that helped."  We continue our conversation and she talks like nothing happened.  But I know from across the room on that couch, that mans world was made a little brighter.

There were so many times I saw Aunt Emma make people's lives a little brighter.  People loved her and she loved people.  Having a failing memory and three roommates might provoke someone to be grumpy or to expect pity.  That was never the case with her.  She was always happy, but not the fake kind of happy where people put on a front just to make others feel okay.  No, Aunt Emma was always optimistic and looked for best and humor in all situations.  Her constant peaceful disposition was always refreshing to be around.  She always displayed manners and class to everyone she encountered, even when others didn't do the same.  I was honored and inspired every time I visited her.  I would leave committed to wanting to be kinder, more positive and to look for the others who need help; just like Aunt Emma.

About a week before she passed away I was visiting her daily.  I would go in either before or after work.  Even if  it was late and the doors were locked, the people at the front desk would let me in.  I would sit beside her on the bed, read some Psalms, or just hold her hand.  She looked so at ease and beautiful even toward the end. One night I was just holding her hand.  Time was just passing, and nothing special was going on.  I let my hand go as I prepared to leave.  Immediately I felt a weak grip.  My Aunt Emma with all the strength she could muster grabbed my hand and placed it closer to her chest.  Chills ran down my spine, and I froze in that moment not wanting to forget any of it.  Right there on the seventh floor in Conestoga View, I felt like the luckiest girl, most loved girl in the world. I kissed her and left.  As I left her dark room and into the florescent lit hallway, I still had chills from that moment and promised myself to never forget that.  I took the five minute elevator ride down only this time my thoughts were more somber but my heart still full of love.

After Aunt Emma passed my Grandma and I were talking.  She told me that I remind her of Aunt Emma sometimes.  And honestly it took a lot of work for my head not to swell too much.  I only got to know Aunt Emma well in the later stages of her life, but it was nonetheless one of the most inspiring relationships I've had.  I only heard stories form others about her in her prime.  The combination of these stories and the cumulation of my visits with her make her one of my heroes.

At her viewing last week my great aunts gave me one of Aunt Emma's necklaces.  I wore it to work yesterday.  The combination of battling a cold, working a second twelve and having a heavy assignment made for a difficult shift.  Mid shift I took a bathroom break and washed my hands.  I caught my reflection and saw the necklace.  Immediately I thought of aunt Emma.  I thought of her tenacious personality and optimism.  I revisited a memory of her smiling and trying to make the best of a situation.  I adjusted the necklace and as well as my attitude.  And just like Aunt Emma made the seventh floor at Conestoga View a little better, I decided to make the seventh floor at LGH a little better as well.

Changes in Nike Shoes

Today I bought my first pair of sneakers in three years.  For three years I walked around in sneakers I wouldn't consider astheticaly pleasing, but had comfort and arch support; so who am I to complain?  Yesterday while walking to work I felt my socks get wet beneath fresh fallen rain.  When I looked under my shoe I realized the tread was worn down so much which would explain some recent shin splints I was experiencing.  Although they didn't look too worn on the exterior, the sneakers that carried me through many twelve hour shifts and runs were wearing out and it was time to find a new pair.

I walked into Nike outlet with the mission to find a deal and my size.  Immediately the smell of new clothes and upbeat music invited me in.  Action shots of athletes with perfectly toned legs in Nike shoes grace the walls and remind customers that they too can become great and athletic if they wear Nikes as well.  The tempo of the music is playing faster then I can think about how much I want to spend.  I dodge clusters of people in deep contemplative thought about sneakers, athletic pursuits and of course, style.

I am either fortunate or unfortunate that my size is really difficult to find.  For some reason 10.5 is the rarest shoe size in stock.  Fortunate because it keeps the temptation to shop at bay.  Unfortunate because when the time does come to look for shoes it is really difficult and frustrating.  The cute shoes are always left for the small footed girls meanwhile the homely shoes are on the far bottom or way up top waiting for a girl with big feet to come find them.  I have been known for being a bit of a tight wad, but honestly this is one of the biggest reasons I wait so long to buy shoes.

Another reason why I waited so long to buy new shoes was because I was so familiar with the ones I already had.  I grew attached to them in a way (which I never thought was possible for how ugly I thought they were at first).  They were predictable, always there and I knew they would get me through any shift or long run.  When I came to grips with the fact that I had worn them down so much  it was time for a new pair I was a little sad.  Parting with something that worked well and no longer does is sometimes difficult.

Sometimes in life we get so used to doing things as they are it is easy to become comfortable with routine and status quo.  It can be uncomfortable or even a bit scary to step out and try something new.  We can live in routine for a long time and feel safe and secure.  Stepping out involves risk, investment, commitment and obviously change.  The possibility for things to go wrong increases.  Being thrust out of a comfort zone into unchartered waters is both scary and risky.

Change is challenging and growing.  Whether it's a new pair of sneakers or a career change forces us to do some introspection and reevaluate how we do things.  We also have greater opportunity to rely on God to help us through.  Doing life in such an orderly, routine predictable fashion gives us the feeling that we are in control of our own life and nothing can go wrong as long as we are in the drivers seat.  While order and structure have there place in life, it can be easy to forget that God is ultimately in control.  Also, how do we grow our faith when we have nothing to challenge us?

I would also consider it a first world problem that is takes intention to branch out of comfort zones.  Living in America and being in a place where shelter, water, food and job are never in question is such a blessing.  However, it can also be so easy to have a weaker faith because we have so much security.  When change is inevitable (which it will be at some point or another), and our foundations are rocked, we need to be prepared and have the faith to trust in God for guidance, wisdom and direction to help us through whatever we need.

 I love the quote that says "Faith starts the moment we step out of our comfort zone."  Every week I have been trying to do something different that is out of my routine or comfort zone.  I've been trying to be intentional about this, and so far its been neat.  I'm only about three weeks in and the things I've been doing aren't anything too dramatic, but I've noticed how it shifts my day and forces me to pray more and seek God.   I've been growing in my faith and as a person.  I hope as time goes on my daily "challenges"  or "dares"  continue to grow in substance and faith.

So I ended up buying a new pair of shoes.  And I'm happy to report I like the style a little more then my old pair.  On my drive home I thought about all long days and muddy runs my old sneakers carried me through.  I slight pang of sadness and fear that the other shoes won't live up to what my old shoes provided came over me.  But who knows?  Until we step out and try something new, we will never know.  Maybe these will be the best shoes yet.  There are many adventures to be had, things to learn and mountains to climb in a new pair of shoes.

I wish you the best this week as you climb your own mountains.  I pray you have the most amazing discoveries as you continue to branch out and try new things.