And I'll take you for who you are

Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that God just loves you as you, where you are for who you are? Not for who you could be, or who you will be, or what you do, or might do, or any of that. Right here, right now. He loves you. All of you.

I think I forgot.

Just singing the lyrics to get them out of my head
This melodic sad story of things left unsaid
If I knew what it meant I would tell you myself

So buy us a song on acoustic guitar
Make me believe that it’s really not far
To get to the dreams I thought were only my own

Could you tell me the truth about the distance between
All that we want and all it could mean
If the reality were only so easy to see

just tired.

Something's gotta give.

That something always ends up being my immune system.

I didn't run a single shift of rescue throughout all of September.

I made great grades in September.

I didn't get sick in September.

I went to church more often in September.

I could kinda feel hope starting to grow again in September.

Now we're a week away from the end of October, I've picked up rescue again and loved it, made ok grades (though we'll see on Thursday if that's truly the case), gotten sick for a full week, missed church every Sunday and feel as though I'm just faking life, let alone hoping for anything other than a pillow and maybe a spontaneous show of generosity from my bosses in the form of a massive raise.

Yeah. Something's gotta give.

And I don't mean my immune system.

in the bano

Things to add to my list of life experiences: being hugged by a patient in the bathroom.

I had just walked with her to help make sure she was ok and explain the whole clean catch urine process. That was it. I felt for her, to be sure - teary eyed and essentially friendless in a country not her own, the victim of what was probably drug induced violent assault - her story was awful. But her quivering hands stretched out over my shoulders after I encouraged her to "respire, por favor...uno, dos, tres...." in my pitiful attempt at Spanish nearly broke me down.

Truth be told, it was a fairly slow night at work. No big traumas, no strokes caught in the nick of time, just a lot of abdominal pain, some drug seekers and a few interesting mild injuries. I have no idea how that woman's story goes from here. I hope it gets worlds better and that she's reunited with her family and people who genuinely care for her. And I hope that I never lose the fact that she - and every other patient - matters.

romanced

What is the exact definition of romance?

I don't know. And my current internet connection won't let me access a dictionary to find out. But when it comes to healthcare and my role in it, that's the only word that I can seem to fit. I am romanced by my job.

Cheesy - and kinda scary - I know.

Really? I ask myself. I mean, really. The whiny people, the close encounters with body fluids, the ceaseless beeping of monitors and call bells, the heirarchy and subsequent gossip? I like this?

Yep. I do.

I love the chance to help people. I love being part of something that's bigger than me. I love learning about how the human body works. I love getting a difficult IV. I love that, even on days when I don't want to be at work or deal with anyone, I can still say that I love my job.

There are nearly unlimited opportunities in healthcare. Most of them have initials: RN, NP, MD...hospitals are full of more acronyms than a military base.

And then there's the history. You can look back at the history of humanity and see evidence of medicine in practically every era. Greeks and Romans, medieval times, eastern medicine...the list continues and advances through time. Everything we know today is thanks to the efforts and errors of previous generations.

Society isn't unfamiliar with my romance. There is plenty of entertainment out there based on healthcare drama. I think the close association with life and death and the drama inherent to them draws people in. It's fascinating in ways unlike anything else.

There is no try.

I think the thing that’s been eating at me so much recently is this question:

If we spend all of our time just “keeping up appearances” aren’t we simply living shadows?

For the past few years I’ve tried to consistently be the same person, no matter the circumstance. As it turns out, I have such a wide variety of interests and broad spectrum of friends, that it seems I cannot be me without offending someone. So I’ve become this half version of me that people cannot fully embrace because I can’t fully be present.

Don’t say what you think because it may be offensive. Don’t do what you want because you’re obligated to be somewhere else. There are bills to pay and people to impress.

Why?

Am I so terrified that my opinion will leave me friendless and alone?

Even when I know I’m right?

How arrogant is that?

And twisted. I mean, seriously, it goes back to that whole “I want him to like me” mentality. If he doesn’t like me for who I truly am, then what sort of relationship do we have? And let’s be honest. That hasn’t worked yet for this still very single nearly 26 year old white American female.

Twenty six. It’s my golden year. Why do I feel like I’m asking the same damn questions I had seven years ago? In some ways it feels like I was closer to knowing who I was then than I do now – at least there wasn’t as much artifice in between me and the person people see.

Even more maddening, I tell other people this constantly. “You cannot control how people react to you.” But I try. Oh, do I ever try. I observe, evaluate, consider and anticipate and keep my mouth shut because of it.

Sometimes it’s because I see things as bigger than they really are. Sometimes it’s because I just don’t have the energy to fully engage the situation. And sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being rejected along with the Jesus I supposedly love.

That’s what this really comes down to, isn’t it? Faith. The questions, the answers, the lack of answers, the ignoring the answers, the questions the answers raise…and the nagging suspicion that, despite all I’ve done and tried to do, I still don’t get it.

I still can’t stick with a decision long enough to see it through to completion. Still can’t express genuine affection without feeling as though I’m overstepping some invisible line.

Still look at myself first instead of keeping my focus directed on the only One who can fix any of it.

I ask the questions, beg for answers and try so hard to make it all work out. Only to fall flat on my face with lack of self discipline.

Do I know how to fix it? No. But I am going to stop half trying and see if that makes a difference.

Incepted

Everyone's asked the question, "what if real life is a dream, and my dreams are real life?" At least...I'm pretty sure everyone's asked it. I've asked it more than once, so that should make up for the few people who never thought to ask.

Anyway, Inception takes that question to a degree I don't think I could ever have imagined - quite skillfully - and makes a few other points along the way.

How much of our relationships are based on our perceptions of people, and not the people themselves? If you love someone, are you loving them with all of their idiosyncrasies, or are you loving your perception of them and how they fit into your world and how you see things?

And can you really build those architectural puzzles like never ending staircases?

What about building a less invasive version of the Matrix, using .....bracelets....that sucks you into the dream of the person on the other side of the wire?

Why do I always end up typing such dissatisfactorily short thoughts on this thing lately? I have more to say, my brain's just too sleepy to spit it out coherently right now.

Maybe I Really AM a Commitaphobe

Am I the only person who has seasonal friendships?

There are so many people who have been integral parts of my life...and we just don't talk anymore. It's not like there was a big blow up or anything. Out of the dozen or so people I can think of, only two fall into that category. Instead it's almost as if life drifts us apart like clusters of seaweed on the tide.

What's perhaps even more bizarre about the whole thing is the fact that certain people among my drifters seem to try to cling to how things were before; while others just pick up where we left off. Then there are those who never really drifted very far away, so the connection is still there, just . . . loosely; and the rest who are basically totally gone.

...in other news, we just had an earthquake. *blink*

Somewhere

There is a place I want to be
Where time slows down and my heart can breathe
Every day is peace and free
That's the place I want to be

There is a place I want to live
Where strength and comfort are gifts I give
Hearts are softened and safe to dream
That's the place I want to be

There is a place I long to see
Where trust is safe inherently
The only danger to be found
Is a step not taken to unseen grounds

My soul wants freedom, space to be
And rest from all that's wearied me
Someday it won't be just a dream
Until then, glimpses, hopefully