Allegro

Gathering up what is left of this day, I am content to simply sit and breathe. Letting go of the frustration, the fatigue, the injustice that I witness every day. Turning loose of the grief and how it feels to see a precious living human being who has stolen your heart one day, and learn two days later that she is dead. Just breathe. Not having time to grieve her, because there are so many others who need attention, who are still living and still fighting. Not having time to grieve any of them. Pushing down the feelings of inadequacy, I flee to the staff bathroom and lock the door. There I stifle sobs and scream with no sound at the unfairness of it all. Just breathe.

It’s Friday night; this week has passed in a blur , leaving me to wonder if I truly lived it or if I simply stood still and watched it go by. My aching feet and throbbing back jerk me to reality instantly and remind me that I was very much there. Such an intense place it is; a place of healing and hope, a place of sickness and pain.  In all my years of nursing I have seen nothing to compare it to.

I get up every morning in the pre-dawn darkness, sitting up slowly, carefully putting my tired feet to the floor and feeling my way through the doorway. After brushing my teeth and making coffee, the first thing my beloved husband and I do is spend time with God in prayer and scripture. I do not particularly enjoy getting up at 3:30 am but I will leave nothing to chance. I learned long ago to give the best part of my day to my heavenly Father; He deserves the best of what I have, not the scraps that are left after the world has extracted its toll. He deserves the first fruits, and I do not dare venture out into the world without His covering and His protection.

I have stopped begging Him to move me; I have come to know that He placed me there for a purpose and if I leave, I risk losing His favor; that is a risk I cannot afford to take. As I back out of the driveway each morning I know that He goes before me, and He goes behind me.

On the days that our schedules allow, Summer and I commute together. She works in the main part of the hospital, on the surgical specialties floor. She is amazing, that girl; I wish you could see how beautiful she is and how lovingly and competently she cares for the patients entrusted to her. When I think about her running a code blue, or standing toe to toe with an obstinate doctor advocating for her patients, I am truly amazed. She is the child the enemy tried to prevent me from having, and I have always known there was a good reason. I have always known that there was an anointing on her, and I have lived to watch it begin to unfold. How blessed I am.

My beautiful Summer

Posted on her Facebook status is a quote from the St Vincent School of Nursing student handbook, circa 1930. It reads: "Nurses should realize that no matter how repulsive a patient may appear or how loathsome his disease, that he has a soul created to the Image of God, a soul whom God loves and for whom Christ died; that his body is the Temple of the Holy Ghost and that God will reward even a cup of cold water given in His Name."

And so my friends, as I sit here on this cold January night on the back side of Christmas, I will tell you that life is so sweet; it is always worth the fight. I will tell you that I will continue to do what I have been called to do, even if it is only to offer a cup of cold water. In the meantime, tonight I will just sit and breathe.