7/7

Trying to set smaller goals for myself while accomplishing bigger ones.

It's the last year for my undergrad, and although I am looking forward to finishing I am also feeling pressure to participate in various activities and events merely because it's the 'last year.' We'll see how that plays out, but I am aiming to be more intentional on how I spend my time, which is why it is important to be grateful.

-education. As much as we complain about, worry, and lose sleep over it, each paper we write, test we take, and forum post we respond to is getting us closer to the end.

-music. Recently discovered some great artists. Currently in choir for Handel's Messiah this Christmas and very much looking forward to it. Re-listening to ever classic artists.

-laughter. Whenever I've laughed lately, it's been because some quirk a loved one has set me off. Family or friends.  Or they've pointed out a quirk in myself. People are beautiful, and sometimes even more so when you love them.

-driving. Always an opportunity to relax, listen to music, podcasts, and have some time to myself where I am almost forced to think through and process my day, which ultimately is a good thing. Sometimes because people are constantly bombarded by business and deadlines. I covet time alone where I can think through my week.

-acceptance. This could take many forms. Whether from friends or programs, but I recently got accepted to a program that will jump-start my experience in acute care, which I am very thankful for. God certainly gives me unexpected surprises, that's for sure.

-work. As much as people complain about work at times, I am so grateful to be at a place in life where I am not dreading it but enjoying it. Yes it's a challenge, and people are in dark places, but it is a constant reminder of how much they need Christ's love, and one way I can show that love is by doing what I do the best I can.

-shared time. Recently shared a big chuck of time with a friend, and I don't regret any of it. I had not stopped in a while just to enjoy another person's company, and it felt truly wonderful. 

No Place I'd Rather Be

Made like a clean bandit out of home base to my coz.
Sometimes home is where the heart's at.
Other times the heart is just where a certain someone is.

If you ever get a chance to read the C. S. Lewis' The Four Loves, do.
In the meantime, check out these unedited shots from the week.

Hey del rey, be American 

Fort Clinch 

Springs at Ichetucknee State Park 

Roommates, overexposed

Are we done yet??

Payne's Prairie Park: After viewing Jupiter & its moons

This was good. Not over yet, but still so good.

Music for Your Monday // Everywhere

Can you hear me calling

Out your name

You know that I'm falling

And I don't know what to say

~//~

When you end up doing this once, it can never be undone. Sure, you can get up and keep going, but it doesn't erase the fact that somewhere back there you did fall. Here's to one more week before I'm let out for Nursing school 'spring break.'

Shout out to Fleetwood Mac. Every time. 

Music for Your Monday//Hard Shoulder

There is something about October and Knopfler's albums. His lyrics are ever appealing and practical, sometimes (often) cutting. There is a tangible aspect to his work that so many can identify with. Substantial, meaty, and overwhelmingly resonating.

If something needs doing

I always say

You want it done

The proper way

I need you to stay

Man's broken down

Man's broken down

On the slip road

Got a slip load

And it's a hard

Shoulder to cry on

Fall is always rough. 

But if you keep getting back up, you (hopefully) won't get stuck. 

That's all for now. 

Undone

Grabbing the aide bar in the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer, she heaved herself in with the help of her daughter. Her hair was done up nicely in a refined, quiet up-do, her shirt an off-brand of “Simply Southern.” We pulled the seat back, giving her more room to breathe. I had been waiting a month for a notification from my intern coordinator as to whether or not I would be shadowing a midwife during my summer in the mountains. Cell reception was not granted, and though I attempted to gain it, it was pretty useless to try. I gave up. Instead of driving the three hours to the city not knowing whether or not I would be shadowing, I decided to do something entirely different.

The Ford was on good terms with the mountains. It hugged the roads and weathered the climbs, and as we pulled away from the trailer and down a steep decline, she gripped the bar while I hoped I wasn’t in trouble. Part of me didn’t even care. I was supposed to be helping people. Shadowing? I didn’t see that helping anyone anytime soon. Instead I drove, listened to the drawl of stories, and sometimes shouting, actively assisting the sound waves across the hearing aids.          

We were on a quest for a second series of shots for osteoarthritis therapy. The knees were inflamed again and “Mamma,” as we called her, was in too much pain to skip any appointments. The more I sat, watched, and listened to her humor, the more adamant I became about providing care for her. Yes, I was merely transportation, but when mountain people go through the stress and trauma of finally setting up and having all insurances ‘go through’ to cover their procedure, only to be met with a transportation problem, it is devastating. The stigma against people in the ‘mountain dew belt’ may be somewhat true, but people are still in pain from various ailments. Mamma sure was. But she never complained. Her spunky spirit was like a fog to my ship attempting to discern what lay ahead.

“Christy?” Finally having service I called my coordinator to explain my absence at the midwifery clinic. Passively - but audibly upset - she told me she’d have to ‘sort everything out’ and tell the clinic I wasn’t bothering to come in. Hiding my emotions, I cringed inside. But the cringing wouldn’t go away. I brought Mamma and her daughter somewhere we could eat. I sat quietly. Half of me convincing myself I had been terrible in not following my coordinator’s wishes to the letter and half of me stubborn, believing I did something that was meaningful. Mamma looked over her sandwich at me.

“You’re a sight.” She looked at me, then shifted her gaze to the pretty lilies at our table. “She’s a lovely thing...isn’t she, Angel?” He daughter just smiled, wistfully. I complemented Mamma on her shirt, mostly because I wanted to shift the conversation, but also because there was a bejeweled Eiffel tower gracing it. After bringing her home, she gave me a small, framed print of the tower. Her recollection was perfection.

After the appointment I was still a bit shaken, and though Mamma and her spunk had been quiet, she was happy. We drove home in the twilight on the Hal Rogers Parkway listening to sounds quite forgotten by today’s culture: A sound of raw spirit and vulnerability, sounds of quiet and stillness; communication without words. Commune itself. Mamma never thanked me, and I’m almost glad she didn’t. 

Music for Your Monday//Come Home

Nothing hurts worse

Than a hope that's deferred

Don't let it slip away

See you shining under the shame

Looking for reasons to try

A reason to live or to die

Won't you come home?

Back to where your heart is

"Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all."

Isaiah 53:4-6