Art

I am not an artist.

There are parts of my heart that yearn to express themselves; through pictures, through sketches, through music...and every time I try to get it out, it's not what I want it to be. The pictures in my heart are richer than the ones that pop out of my camera. The drawings in my mind aren't lopsided and disappointingly two dimensional. And the songs that lie sleeping in my soul have harmonies that blend so perfectly with a melody yet unheard.

So, I write. But because the words aren't pictures or music [and we all know that a picture is worth a thousand words...music is a different language entirely] I scorn myself. I scorn the words. The thought that mere letters can express the depth of my heart on any given subject seems pathetic.

Which means I stop writing, in turn bottling up the all of the stuff that doesn't get expressed in any other form of art.

Vicious cycle, really....compounded by lack of time and a dying laptop battery.

Hospice

There's a patient on my unit who is now on "full hospice care" She's obviously dying. I go in to check on her during rounds and have to stand and watch for a full 15 seconds in order to see her catch her breath.

Two nights ago, I was sitting with a patient who came to us with norovirus and her agitation got increasingly worse - especially when I tried to get her to lie down. Then she started gurgling and coughing and sounding generally not good. Upon transport to the ER downstairs, suction became necessary and the greenest stuff I've ever seen come out of person made its appearance. She was transferred to the big hospital and died the next day.

When I started working on a psych unit, I never thought that I'd be facing extensive geriatric/nursing home type situations. It's so...sad. But not in the "I just want to cry" sense. It's not really emotional for me; there's a disconnect in my brain that doesn't allow for emotion to get involved. I try to make these people comfortable; I do everything I can to help them, and then I move straight to the acceptance stage. There's a sort of check in my brain saying that someday, all of this is going to come back to me and I'm going to become a flipped out basket case........I hope not. It's my goal to ease the suffering and make the unnaturalness of death and the transition to it less painful - for the patient AND the patient's family. That last part is kind of difficult when the unit is on isolation due to norovirus exposure.

Tomorrow is my first BioMedical Ethics class. I got a peek at the syllabus tonight and we will be discussing things like living wills and advanced directives this semester. Now that it's out of the hypothetical and into reality for me I think it's going to feel like more of a fuzzy area. Guess we'll see...

Unplugged...with a lot of thoughts and a dying battery.

I don't like feeling as though I am misunderstood, but it's worse when I feel that the misunderstandings are a direct result of my miscommunication.

And I seriously have a bunch of deep and probing brain things about this line of thought, but, as usual, they are being difficult to express while at work. So I'm going to do this thing that Heidi had on her blog....

{Bold items have been done by me}

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child {I have three Compassion kids!}
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill {it wasn't really a sick day; my boss knew I was going skiing. It was a snow day}
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language {barely...the French I self taught in high school hasn't really lasted}
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance {I've transported...countless people...and I've PLAYED at being a patient, so I think I sort of get points}
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life {most. amazing. feeling. ever.}
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a mobile phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

And...yeah, ok, that's it. I would like to think that going to Europe - or rather, NOT going, doesn't define my life...and hey, I've swum in the Blue Lagoon in Iceland! And been to the cliff in Scotland that constitutes the Biblical "uttermost parts of the earth." That's gotta count for something ;-)

Appreciating Gravity

I fell off a horse today.

It was my fault, really. I was being lazy and not paying attention, and then the other horse spooked, which spooked my horse and, well, lateral movement was not at the forefront of my mind just then.

It's gonna hurt worse in the morning.

But that's ok. My schedule is finally adjusted to the point where I'll be able to ride regularly once a week! I'm pretty excited about that. We'll see if I'm able to maintain a decent GPA along with the rest of my activities...and sleep is something that needs to be more of a priority this semester. But for the most part, I'm excited.

Tonight I am babysitting the duckie. The duckie is absolutely adorable, and while I love her to pieces, she has thoroughly convinced me that having children is not at the top of my "achieve before menopause" list. I don't know how mothers do it. I seriously don't. And I definitely don't know how they survive more than one little person who screams for no apparent reason for hours on end. Seriously. The child was obviously exhausted (she's finally sleeping now.....) but she just kept wailing. There would be brief moments of respite when she would suck on her sleeve and hiccup, but once her lungs recovered, she'd be back to screaming full force again. I'm only here for an evening and she's driven me closer to insanity. How do moms DO it???

Whew. Anyway. I should be writing a history assignment instead of a ranting random blog post.

Well That Was Interesting [and other tales from the north]

So my 2009 began in a prophetic meeting service thingy.

I could go into a long drawn out explanation of why I'm leery of prophetic meeting thingies. There's an interesting history involving well-intentioned people and a youthful ignorance about charismatic doctrine that was quickly...nonignoranced. But the past isn't really going to help put much in perspective this time. Neither is a debate on the merits of doctrine questioning the validity of prophecy in modern times.

The fact of the matter is, for as much as my relationship with God has become sort of like those marriages where the involved parties live in the same house, share the same bed and go through the motions of building a life together without actively knowing each other anymore, I knew that He had a reason for bringing me to that spot. And I knew that I wasn't really going to buy whatever any preacher man had to say. Or I would at least...chew on it and try to dissect it and otherwise, you know, rationalize.

So it came as no real surprise to me when the guy picked me out of the row and had me stand in the aisle to pray over me. It came as no surprise when he used the word "annointing" about 3 times in 30 seconds; his type is rather fond of the word "annointing" I'm not, but hey.

He said a lot of things, but the thing that got me most was a fervent "open the door to believing again!" that almost seemed an afterthought in prayer. My sisters pick on the fact that he called me "strong and bullheaded," attributing such characteristics to our dad. What if I am? It means I haven't given up.

I know that a lot of what is marketed as prophecy tends to be super generalized and broadly applicable, but I also believe that God knows what I need....and He gives it to me.

Now if we could just get back to the "yep, I trust You, lead me off the cliff...." point.

Where is the line

between ignorance and bliss?

I asked that question and received "Prudence and common sense" as an answer. Good point, but doesn't the question beg the point that ignorance is not truly bliss?

Hmm.

Anyway, I am a released EMT. I am responsible for a crew, a patient, a scene, an ambulance and pretty much all sorts of things that should terrify me, but, oddly enough, don't.

Another thing on the list of oddities: pediatric calls are fairly infrequent. Since I've been running as a released provider I've had three patients. They ranged in age from 6 days to 11 years.

Wanna see something funny? Send a girl who's terrified of infants in the first place into a pediatric office where she's expecting to find a 6 month old patient [eek!] and instead present her with a 6 day old actively being suctioned with a bulb syringe. {EEK!!!}

Ok, I know that suctioning mucous and junk is not a big deal for the most part. Babies throw up all the time, and they get gunky and need to be wiped up after, but this was kinda different and rather nervewracking. Fortunately, we transported and arrived at the hospital safely, but it's not something I'd like to repeat any time soon. Afterward I was emphatically told by both the medic AND the senior EMT on my crew that I can no longer run Thursday day shift.

I'm exhausted and wondering why I love this stuff so much......

....and I'm happy.

W. T. F.

For real!? Truly and honestly and....just REALLY?!?!???

Ok, so it's not like I ever had any illusions of being the only girl he was dating. And I didn't really think that it was going "work out." And I knew that I shouldn't be dating a nonChristian/nominal Catholic/whatever it is that he is.

But a kid?? He's gonna have a KID?! And I find out on Google. This is great. Juuuuust great. The irony is simply dazzling, and I feel sick.

I feel sick for me, in a way, just because....I was vulnerable to something like this. Oh my gosh. But I feel more sick for her. For that poor woman who is in a relationship with him, all happy and excited and planning a nursery and preparing to go through the most painful physical experience known to all womankind. How can he do that to her? She doesn't deserve to be two-timed. Nobody deserves that. And quite honestly, I'm pretty sure it's not two-timed. It's more likely something like 5 timed or worse.

What am I supposed to do? I finally talked to him about it, and he got toooootally pissed at me. Told me that I don't really have a whole lot of life experience to go on and that looking people up online is a bad idea because you might find out things that you "just don't need to know!" Said he'd "talk to me later" at the end of the conversation, but I'm not counting on it.

Why do I care? This hurts so much. My heart is breaking for a woman I've never met and the son she's going to meet next month. My heart is breaking for him, too. That he could become so emotionally detatched as to actually....oh, God. I'm a messed up cookie, for sure, but at least my screw ups don't hold intense attachment to a series of other people.

Or they didn't until this.

I knew from the moment I met him that my life would be different as a result, but this is beyond, by far, ANYTHING that possibly would have gone through my mind.

Now what?

Hey, God.

uh...You're supposed to say "hi" back now?

Hello?

*sigh*

Look, I know that things have kinda...sucked...lately. And I know that's my fault. I'm a person and imperfect and all of that. I'm sorry.

Ok, so I'm not REALLY sorry. Not in the "I hereby repent of all my wickedness and shall sell all of my belongings and move to deepest darkest Africa to pray for the pagans" sense of the word.

I'm not even sure what sense of the word I DO mean it; come to think of it. It's just...the thing to say when you're friends with someone and haven't talked in a long time. And, well, we haven't really talked, so, You know. . . .

Are you even there, or am I talking to Your answering machine? My dad's there, isn't he? He's listening to this whooooole thing and laughing at me.

Maybe he's missing me? Cuz I really, really miss him, God. I miss him like . . . like there's no description.

Every time I try to talk to You these days, he comes up somehow. And that hurts. So, uh, that's kinda why I haven't been talking to You. If I don't think, junk doesn't come up, and so it can't hurt.

At least not perceptively.

Until now, when I find my heart so simultaneously hardened and eroded that I don't recognize it at all and it scares me.

Where did the hope go?

Where did love go?

.....where the heck did YOU go???

GOD!!! ABBA!!!! I'M TALKING TO YOU DOWN HERE, DO YOU EVEN CARE?!

*pants*

That's an honest question. I'm not saying it to be cliche. I mean it. Do You care? Do You give a flying fig?

I cuss sometimes; does that horrify You?

Does that guy horrify you?

Are you horrifiable? Maybe horrify isn't the right word, but it's what's in my head right now. It seems that's the reaction I get from people who claim you.

Well, actually, it's the reaction I expect to get. Lots of them don't know. A few of them just look at me like I'm the little lost sheep. Poor silly Naomi, went astray and found a briar patch. Tsk tsk. Let's pray her out of it, boys and girls.

Yeah, pray me out of this while you stay in your happy little bubble of nonreality, where your love is ineffective because it bounces back in your face off the spring loaded smiley faced trampoline walls you build. Pray harder, everyone, because that version ain't gonna cut it this time.

Ew. Ok, God, I really am sorry about that one. Bitterness is something You don't appreciate, that much I know. And it's not supposed to grow in me. I don't think I knew that was there....at least, not like that. Yikes.

.....the artifice has gotta get to You too, though, right?

Now and Then

The thought that the person I was 3 years ago would be horrified by the person I am today is something that's been on my mind quite a bit these days. Since I haven't really been able to explain it satisfactorily to people who ask me what I mean, I thought I'd write it out and see if that helps.

The me of three years ago was at enrolled in a yet to be accredited conservative Christian college. She was convinced that God brought her to the east coast from the midwest for reasons yet to be revealed and that loving a guy who didn't love her was her calling in life. The me of three years ago was something of an emo drama queen sometimes. Three years ago, I was working on the campus of the college I attended. I continued working there because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find - or handle - a job anywhere else, even though I was entering upper level course work in a government policy degree and attaining the highest GPA I'd ever achieved at that college. Three years ago, I was striving for independence. Rescue Squad was nonexistent in my world and I drove around in an Oldsmobile.

I knew a grand total of...zero...nonChristians. My world was a safe little bubble all wrapped in pretty paper.

Today . . . I still have emo drama queen tendencies, but they tend to drive me up a wall, so I crush them rather than embrace them. No longer attending or working at the conservative Christian college, no longer convincing myself to be in love with someone (though there are a host of questions in that area of my life right now that I'm just sort of mulling over) Government is something I hiss at and avoid like the plague. My grades while pursuing a degree in nursing are better than any I got while studying policy. I drive a Dodge and Rescue Squad practically owns my soul.

The me of today counts people who don't love God among some of the most amazing individuals she has the privilege of knowing. And they're PEOPLE to me, not projects, or things to put on a prayer list.

I think that's the thing that would rock the world of three years ago me more than anything else. That, along with the fact that the shiny paper got shredded, the bubble was popped, and reality doesn't look anything like the distorted gauzy picture we paint from behind the plastic stained glass of modern Christianity. Life is tough out here -- but it's ALIVE.

Better

"I'm getting better!"

And not in the Monty Python sense, either. It's an amazing thing to realize that God infuses us with hope we can't control - or kill. More amazing is the fact that He places people in our lives to truly love us when we're at our lowest sludge point.

(oddly enough, realizing this makes it easier for me to be a decent EMT...)

Now I just need to figure out how to carry on a conversation with a non-drunk, non-crazy person....

I write in poetry when I can't say what I mean for real. It's probably some sort of coping mechanism, evidenced by the fact that poetry generally happens when I'm working through some sort of crisis or other less than deliriously happy experience.

The thing is . . .I find this annoying. What I write has feeling, yes, but I don't want to write painful or hopeless sounding trash, so the hopefulness that gets expressed often feels tacked on or obligatory and thus, I hate it.

Besides that, my brain and style are stuck in the SAME METER EVERY TIME. Do I know that poetry doesn't have to rhyme? Yes. Yes, I do. But it doesn't matter, because if I write something that doesn't rhyme, it drives me nuts, and so I search around for just the word to fit my syllabic cadences. Then I FIND the word, and the fact that I found it drives me nuts, because I didn't have to, darnit, I was just writing.

Hmph.

Anyway. I am not doing well these days. Admitting this is probably indicative of a pending betterness, but honestly, I'm not holding my breath. Surface level is ok; keeping busy and getting rid of last week's beyond nasty sinus infection. Beyond that...well, let's talk about something else, shall we? I got mad at God and didn't talk to Him for a while and now things are in such a state that I don't feel as though I have any right to talk to Him. So, of course, I yell at Him. That definitely helps. Until I realize that I have no place to be doing that and so shut up again.

For being female, my communication skills are abysmal.

There wasn't too much to me
When you walked into my life
You asked simple questions
The answers were concise
But minutes turn to hours
Hours turn to days
Your presence became something
I expected in some way

Our tastes in music were so different
Our age and history, too
But you seemed to like my presence
And the fact my eyes are blue
So the minutes became hours
Hours turned to days
And your ever-prolonged glances
Flattered, in a way

Now it's six months later
And glances became more
You wrapped your arms around me
My heart didn't feel so sore
Strength is an anesthetic
When it's not my own
I'm addicted to the numbness
The pretense of a home

A call tonight from someone
Who's known me many years
Made me realize something
That should render me to tears
It's a disturbing thing to notice
In the middle of the night
You never really loved me
And I can't make this right

keep on breathing
keep on bleeding
though no one sees the wound
looks like a scar
but do you care
to know real life this soon

yes, keep on breathing
please stop bleeding
pain like this can't last
time will heal it
truth reveals it
shadows overcast

if i could just stop bleeding
must i stop breathing?
no, He did that once

He kept on bleeding
then stopped breathing
and kicked death's sorry...*cough*

if You kept on bleeding
so i can keep breathing
why does it hurt so bad?
i feel i don't know You
Your truths are just virtues
like life is a joke - time to laugh

but i'll keep on breathing
eventually stop bleeding
and You'll hold me close
safe
not alone

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Is it possible to love too easily and yet somehow not really at all? Sometimes I think there's an invisible wall just below the surface of my heart. A person gets in and starts to feel the warmth but then lightly smacks into this immovable resistance. The warmth is soothing and pleasant at first, but like a shallow bath, cools all too quickly and you find yourself wanting to get out or plunge deeper - the sooner the better.

Love, by definition, is not self seeking. So why is it so hard to tear down so-called defenses?
The whole process makes me simultaneously cagey and lonely, excited and terrified, analytical and emotional; to the point that I wonder if sanity is something that I can actually claim.

And why is it that I can't seem to really write what I mean these days?

Ok, I'll say it.

QUIET!

AAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

I went out to an east end station to precept today with the idea that I'd actually get some calls.

Ha.

One little old lady and six hours later....

Patientless Call Sheets

So now I'm precepting. Last week my Virginia Certificate arrived in the mail and so I'm spending every possible moment [within a slight degree of reason] at the station, simultaneously anticipating and dreading calls. I know that they're not going to throw me out there without any backup, that's why I'm precepting, but still. It's kinda daunting at times if a girl thinks too much.

The majority of my precepting experience has come in the form of patientless call sheets. We get dispatched and then put back in service while en route, or we arrive and discover that there's no patient, and no door to be unlocked because the kid woke up and unlocked the car already.

Sometimes, I tell ya . . . .

I won't actually SAY the "q" word, but it seems like it could apply to the western front these days. At least when I'm running.

In other news, the new job is going quite well. They decided to use me as a tech, instead of a secretary, so I get to wear scrubs and deal with patients on a face to face level, rather than sit on my butt all day and answer a phone for 8 hours. I'm happy. (besides that, there's the whole three twelve hour shifts a week aspect, which isn't half shabby when you're looking at going back to school . . .)

Last week I finally "went out" with a group from the station. It was fun. I had a few drinks I'd never heard of, successfully dodged attempts at getting me wasted and basically had a good time. While I don't understand how people find the money to do that on a regular basis, let alone why anyone would want to drink their brain away into oblivion, I'm glad I went. Buddies are good to have :-)

Passage

On Saturday, June 14, 2008 at approximately 1300, I passed the test to become a Loudoun County EMT-B. My partner and I nailed trauma, medical, BLS skills and airway practicals the first time through. The one we didn't get - AED - can be attributed to nervousness combined with lack of equipment in the scenario. When your adrenaline's going, it's hard to remember that there's hypothetical oxygen to hook up. As for the written, I missed my goal of a perfect 100 by one measly point. Hmph. Yet another lesson in critical reading skills on multiple choice tests.

State testing is on Thursday. Tonight's my first shift back at the station. Life is crazy busy. And somewhere, somehow, I know:

I was made for this.

Loneliness

Feeling lonely is sort of a choice, I guess. But there are some degrees of it that cannot be worked away.

For some reason, my heart wants to find a buddy. I don't want to fall in love, and all interaction with males of the single persuasion is not really convincing me to change my mind on that topic. I don't even really want a best friend, though I'm seriously missing my macadamia these days.

No, I think my heart is wanting church. Not the "put on your happy face, sing the songs, plunk you butt in the pew and then leave for whatever activity of your choosing" version, but the "let's live life together, tell me what's up, or let's just sit and let God talk to us together" version.

And I can't find it.

Maybe this is on my mind because they keep telling us to prioritize our personal safety on scene, because, after all "each of you is someone's favorite person." Ha. That's true for several people, but I know it's not the case for me. Sure, I'd be missed, but it's not like anyone would be devastated. . . . death has a way of making a girl cynical, I think. Besides that, my brainwave's lonely. Dad's been off it for over two years now. I'm still kicking, but nobody quite gets it.

I don't think I'd want to know if someone did.

Good grief, this is not coming out the way I mean for it to. No more late afternoon musing under tired stress!

A Day in the Life

of absolute insanity.

In the words of my native land: Uff da.

Yesterday I got up and went running in the morning, which somehow gave me tons of energy for all of Monday -- enough to get through an insanely boring lecture and then go shopping afterwards.

Today, I slept in and felt like I was going to fall asleep at my desk every time I sat down.

Anyway, while boxing graduation supplies and other various bookish supplies that the Publications Department handles, I got a phone call. I went inside to speak with the background investigator handling my friend's application for work in the intelligence field. While speaking with said investigator, the chain on my bullet broke. It was rather sudden, and I didn't have opportunity to display sadness. Because the chain is now so short, it's hanging from the rearview mirror of my car.

After the investigative discussion, I returned to the trailer and continued sorting emails and boxing packages and hauling packages to the mailroom and making an overall mess of my work space. There were a lot of orders and many items to restock, meaning many empty boxes. They started adding up after a while.

And I was still tired, so I took lunch break to go retrieve caffeine.

It didn't really help.

But I kept working. And people came out to be trained and package things and the pile of boxes got bigger.

And then there was this whole thing about being set up on a blind date, and the conversation I had with my mother as a result, which involved being informed that I must have inherited my lips from my dad. . . .

Now I'm sitting in a chair at home, waiting for the internet to come back on so that I can finish a conversation with a friend and post this ridiculously disjointed blog post. Katie's making bread, because she's amazing that way, and I'm going running in the morning with the hope that it will give me energy to get through the day. Energy is going to be in high demand, because I have to finagle my way into an entrance exam with the community college and then go to EMT class... There's lots of stuff to study these days, and now I have a job interview at the hospital on top of it.

Good grief, God, I need sleep.

Interestingly enough, I was thinking about Him today and realizing that I've been tending toward going through the motions of relationship rather than just . . .living it . . . recently. He's working me out of it, thankfully, but I hate that it's so easy to get back into that formulaic mentality.

Sitting at the Station

And the whole addiction to coffee that the rest of the world seems to have finally begins to make sense. My body is getting more and more accustomed to being up early, but the whole being awake part? Not so much. Caffeine is an amazing thing, but I really hope to keep ingestion of it to a minimum.

There have been a variety of thoughts running through my head over the past couple of weeks. A whirlwind trip up north got me thinking more about family relationships and how much things change over time. It's so weird to realize that it's been almost 2 years since Daddy died. A year ago it seemed like yesterday. Now it seems like another life.

We've entered the medical portion of EMT class. Lectures on the differences between administering and assisting with medications and what our protocols allow us to do abound. As do skills sessions in which the evaluator attempts to confuse me . . . and succeeds. Note to self: even if the station is named "medical" and the entire focal point of class for the past week has been medical scenarios, consider the possibility that your patient may be a trauma case. :-P

There's a potential job opening in a local hospital that will pay for nurse's training in addition to a regular pay check. God never ceases to amaze me with how He just provides for needs at the right time. There are times when I feel as though there's almost an excess, and times when it seems as though there's no way anything will work, but when it comes down to it, everything is taken care of.

Kinda crazy. We'll see what happens over the next couple of weeks. Between placement exams, application exams, ER rotations and class, I'm not sure how much time I'll really have to think about what's going on. But I know that it will be good :-)