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Friday, November 18, 2011

A Beautiful Prayer

I haven't blogged in awhile, mostly because nursing school has a way of eating up free time. Between hospital shifts, labs, lectures, and studying for each of the aforementioned things, my recreational activities are limited to (maybe) a few minutes of fun reading before bed and eating (hopefully) at normal intervals.

My heart was stirred to write tonight by something that has been weighing heavily on my heart. A few nights ago, a friend of mine was in a terrible car accident. Now, we're not very close friends; in fact, I have only been around him on occasion and mostly we are friendly acquaintances. But at this moment he isn't doing too well. And I don't know if it's because I know what the medical jargon being tossed around so blatantly really means, but I'm scared. The fact is, even though I don't know him well, I've seen Jesus in the way this guy serves and treats people. I also know that our mutual friends are shocked and hurting as they pray for his recovery and peace. One of his friends has started a blog to let people know how he's progressing, and as I read the last entry I was struck by one thing. As people have been gathering in the waiting room for news and prayer, they have been burdened to pray for one thing in particular- that those caring for my friend would come to know Jesus. Only in a community of truly devoted children of God would you see people praying for the salvation of the night nurse of a dying friend. Really? I don't know if I'd be selfless and strong enough to pray that kind of prayer. Father, turn my heart into one that hungers for salvation in the middle of a storm! And if the 3 of you out there who follow me think about it, please please please pray for my friend Philip, his family, and that those caring for him would see Christ.

"Could all that is lost ever be found?
Could a garden come up from this ground, at all?
You make beautiful things,
You make beautiful things out of dust.
You make beautiful things,
You make beautiful things out of us."

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Forget diamonds... tattoos are forever

After months of seeking out every sketchy tattoo parlor in the greater Lexington and Louisville areas, my friend Courtney and I finally took the plunge and got tattoos last weekend. Most people who know me would be shocked to hear this, but just because I'm conservative doesn't mean I didn't want a tattoo. And did I ever!

Not only did I- the germophobic pain-intolerant pre-nurse that I am- willingly pay for someone to stab me with a needle, I also chose one of the most painful spots to get a tattoo (ribs). To clarify, I wasn't trying to be tough- it was just one of the best places to cover up a tattoo when working/interviewing/impressing potential suitors and/or in-laws. While I lived up to to the "pain-intolerant" title (because *shockingly*, a needle in the ribs really hurts), Courtney was a beast. Her tattoo was MUCH larger and she barely flinched. Barn girls.

But this experience has been a good reminder to me of being adopted into God's family. I have been branded as a child of God by the grace of Jesus. I may not have ink under my skin that affirms this, but God has graven my name on His heart. He has marked himself on my behalf, and now I have tried to do the same for Him. A few months ago, during the children's lesson time at church, the pastor was telling the kids that God had written each of their names on His hands because He loved them so much. One of the kids spoke up, "God must have REALLY BIG hands." May you rest in that truth, friends. Our God has really big hands :)

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Things I Love Today...

Doing a head count of my class while they're in the pool and getting the correct number. Every time.

The knowledge that Christmas is less than 5 months away.

Not getting bit by a snake as I walk home through the woods.

The perfect combination of blueberry and chocolate flavors for dessert.

The realization that I will be done with school soonish.

Coldplay's new single.

The feeling of every one of cells jolting awake as I sip a steaming mug of coffee in the too-early morning.

The end.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Never Say Never

Let this blog post be the record of things I once said I would never do but have recently found myself doing...

1. Dyeing my hair. I know, I know- you should never make a decision about your hair while in the middle of a life crisis. But there wasn't really anything else I wanted to do more after the shock of being dumped wore off. And I learned my lesson. It won't likely happen again.

2. Returning to Alabama. This one's tricky. I went back for my cousin's wedding, and discovered a lot. For example, I learned my brother is much bigger than me, my mom has a tattoo, and I don't like alcohol. Also I came back as one large, walking mosquito bite. Good trip.

3. Admitting that I listen to Justin Bieber.I somehow convinced my sister that I deserved a "Congratulations-for-getting-into-nursing-school" gift, and I requested all of her JB songs. Needless to say, I am enjoying my new music.

After seeing my family and spending countless time with my siblings, I've been thinking a lot about my sister Amy that passed away. Someone mentioned during my family's visit that she would be in high school now. That makes me feel so old :) But as sad as it is to wonder what having another sister would be like, it feels like every member of my family fits in just the right way. I felt such peace looking at the connections I have with my siblings. We are all so different from each other, but I love being with them and I'm proud to see what is next for each of them in the coming year.

"Everything will be fine, everything in no time at all,
hold your own, know your name, and go your own way."

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I'm a Twitterer-er...

After being dumped, most girls dye their hair an unnatural color, listen to angry break-up songs, and host a burning party to destroy unwanted relics of their crumbled relationship. I have only mustered enough energy to have my split-ends trimmed and to sign up for a Twitter account. Way to stick it to the man, Sam.

So instead of spending evenings making myself sick eating self-pity ice cream, I spend my free time wracking my brain for a reason, any reason, that I deserved having my heart broken. Inevitably, I start wondering if I could have won him over had I been prettier, skinnier, smarter, more ambitious, more compassionate. I have no doubt that improvement in any of these things is both possible and necessary. But I have nothing to go on, no idea what I could have done differently. I am literally at a loss.

Last week was Mother's Day, and it reminded me of how grateful I am for my mom. She has a knack for raising independent, well-rounded children, if I do say so myself :) But it also got me wondering what kind of mother I will hopefully be someday (read: in the VERY VERY distant future). Probably the kind that thinks dressing her kids to look like they stepped out of a BabyGap ad is not worth the battle it will be getting them to look that way. And probably the kind that thinks the best cure for any ailment involves homemade chicken soup and a John Steinbeck novel. Yep, I can see now that my children will be mismatched, soup-gluttonous readers. That said, I'd like to send a big shout-out to my mom who even now answers my questions about filing taxes and roasting turkeys. Thanks, Ma.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

One Art

Tonight I was reminded of a poem I had to memorize for my AP English Literature class. My teacher was a Scottish woman (sounds cooler than it actually was) who couldn't remember that my name wasn't Sarah- a fact made even more humorous when my sister Molly also took the class and kept getting called Mary. Despite the questionable lifestyle of its author, this poem sums up my week and remains one of my favorite pieces of writing.

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

There are a few things I've lost this week, too. Like 10 pounds. And 2 hours of my life doing taxes that I didn't actually have to file. And my best friend. Maybe someday- not today- but someday, I'll master the art of losing, too.