To Everything There Is a Season

I have worked my whole life. Growing up with parents who had a strong work ethic, I cannot remember ever NOT working.  I was cooking and washing dishes before I could reach the sink or the stove, and clearly remember pulling up a chair to stand on so I could stir the gravy. I could hang out laundry as well as my mom, but I couldn’t reach the clothes line. So my dad crafted me a stick with a nail on the end of it, to grab the line and pull it down to my height. I learned to hang clothes with one hand and keep a firm grip on the clothes line with the other.

When I was seven years old, the first of 2 little caboose brothers was born; the other one would come a year later. I learned to do the chores with a baby on one hip, and when they cried in the night, it was often "Nini" they sobbed for, the pet name they gave me. I could change diapers without even fully waking up, and often studied while rocking one or both of them to sleep.

2 Caboose Brothers, Sissy and Me ~2008

I did the ironing for all of us, and could never seem to get ahead. Every school night found me in the kitchen after supper, ironing an outfit for each of us to wear to school the next day. By the age of 12 I was ironing for the ladies in our neighborhood on Saturdays, charging 10 cents per item, and made enough money to buy the extras I longed for, like make-up and jewelry. For my 14th birthday, my mom asked me what I wanted; my reply was I wanted a free Saturday with no work, and that is what I got. I still remember the deliciousness of waking up that morning, knowing I could do whatever I wanted. That was a freedom I was not familiar with.

Gina, College 1970

 

 

I continued to work after I left home for college, picking up odd jobs wherever I could. I baby-sat, I painted, I washed cars and I waited tables; I looked forward to the day when I would graduate and could finally be my own boss. That day happened in 1974, when I graduated along with the rest of my nursing class and immediately went to work at a large hospital in Little Rock. Through the years, the scenes would change very little; I would get up and go to work every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow, good days or bad days, holidays or not. I rarely ever called in sick, and can remember several occasions when I walked to work because the roads were not passable due to snow. People who are sick still need nursing care no matter what else is going on in the world.

Chuck and Gina, Engagement 1980

 

After marrying the love of my life in 1980, I continued to work. When I became pregnant five years later, my dream was to be a stay at home mom; sadly, that was not to be. No matter how we crunched the numbers and no matter how we tried to work out a budget, the facts were plain and simple: I had to go back to work. I would get my baby up in the wee hours of the morning so I could have her at the daycare when they opened at 6:00am. That gave me just enough time to drive across town and be at my job by 6:30. I often thought of the irony of the whole situation: I paid someone to take care of my baby while I got paid to take care of other people’s babies. I could never figure out a way to eliminate the middle-man and just get paid to take care of my own baby.

New Baby Summer 1986

Gina and Baby Summer 1986

Summer grew up accustomed to my work schedule, and accepted it as a fact of life. I tried to be involved in her school activities as much as I could, but nursing jobs do not always lend themselves to school schedules. I remember flying out of the building and racing across the parking lot to attend a Christmas program or a dance recital, only to fall asleep with exhaustion once the house lights went down and the curtain opened. Santa rarely came to our house on Christmas eve, because I was usually working. Sometimes he came early, sometimes he came later; Summer never even gave it a thought. She knew he would come whenever mommy wasn’t working.

Summer, Christmas 1988

Summer and Gina, Dance Recital 2005

As of last Friday, all of that changed. I have laid down my nursing mantle for the last time. After almost 40 years in this career, it is finally time to call it quits. My nursing license will expire in November of this year, and as of now I have no intention of renewing it. Enough is finally enough.

I didn’t tell any of my co-workers that I was leaving, except for my friend Cheri. Oh, everyone knew that I was retiring soon but they didn’t know the exact day. When they would press me for details, I would promise them that I would tell them, but not until my last day. On Friday morning, I made that announcement. You could have heard a pin drop.

Myeloma Clinic, Halloween 2008

My intent was not to stun them, but my intent was to leave without a big send-off. I just wanted to slip out the door the same way I slipped in: without ceremony. After their initial shock, then came the squeals of protest and the hugs. I firmly insisted on no tears; this was to be a happy day. I actually made it through the whole day without a melt-down. I felt the sting of tears only a couple of times, but managed to hold it together pretty well.

The hardest part was leaving my friend Cheri. She has been my friend, my rock, my sounding-board and my mirror. She has loved me and encouraged me when I thought I couldn’t go back one more day. We were hired on the same day, and I believe our souls were knit together the very first time we met. I am so very grateful that God placed her there, because He knew we would need each other. We always planned to leave there at the same time; that was not to be. To make matters even harder, my last day was her birthday.

We came up with a plan to have lunch together in a couple of weeks, so when we parted at the end of the day we wouldn’t have to exactly say goodbye, but just "see you then." And so that is what we did.

I finished up my last patient shortly after 5:30, then began the long task of packing up my things. It is amazing how much "stuff" you can accumulate in the space of four years. Buffy had admired my big pink and white canvas tote bag, so I emptied it out and gave it to her. Yvette loved the green ceramic frog that sat atop my computer and Kari had looked longingly at my lime green and purple and robin’s egg blue markers; those things all found a new home. Melodie always wanted to feel the little soft scrap of plaid flannel that was taped to the side of my computer and always wanted to hear the story behind it. She wasn’t there that day, but I put the soft little scrap in an envelope and attached a note to it, reminding her of the story of King David who had the opportunity to kill Saul, but didn’t do it; he cut off a piece of his robe instead. "Melodie, remember that whenever you have an opportunity to hurt your enemy,  just cut off a piece of his robe instead,  and let him go."

 

Finally, everything was packed in one big box and 2 tote bags; Cheri offered to help me carry them down to my car. We walked in silence; there really wasn’t anything more to say. We loaded everything in the back of my little silver car and I slammed the door, turning to give her one last hug. I felt the tears sting my eyes as I said, "I’ll see you on the 14th."  "See you then," she said as she turned away. I watched her walk away but she never looked back, and I know there were tears in her own eyes. "Thank You God for Cheri," I prayed. "Thank You for her friendship and her encouragement." We drove off in opposite directions.

Cheri and Gina, being silly 2009

It doesn’t seem real yet. I have been up since 3:30 this morning; I had coffee and prayer time with my beloved husband, then made his breakfast and packed his lunch. The dishes are washed, the kitchen has been cleaned, and the first load of laundry is ready to be put into the dryer. Yesterday I shopped for groceries, then spent two hours scrubbing my front porch from top to bottom. Yes, it is still work but it’s a different work, and it feels good.

I am excited about this new season of my life; I look forward with anticipation to where the Lord will lead me. My pastor has already asked me to teach another class on Wednesday nights and I think that will be fun. I plan to volunteer one day a week at the elementary school where Chuck works. And I plan to leave room in my life for those times and places where my Heavenly Father has need of me. I am listening for His voice and following where He leads me, in a new direction and to new places where I have never been.

The joy is in the journey.

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