an encounter

Warning: long post ahead. i never do this.

this past weekend i went with my youth group from my home church to National Catholic Youth Conference as a chaperone. it was different from the 4 conferences i'd been to as a participant...it was much, much bigger (and thus less personal) but also my role as a chaperone was more focused on facilitating experiences for the teens i was in charge of. so i wasn't expecting a revolutionary, mountaintop experience for myself...but of course, God surprised me. i should just get used to that.

i just want to share something from the weekend. friday night the keynote speakers were jason and chrystalina evert, whose life mission is speaking to teens about chastity and the rewards of living a pure lifestyle. i had seen chrystalina before and she's awesome, but together those two are so powerful. jason told a story that i will never forget. i'm not sure if this is true or not, but to me it didn't matter. here goes:

a father drops his son off at preschool one morning. he kisses him goodbye, and says, "i love you. i'll be back to get you later." the father goes to work and later that day he hears of a terrible earthquake that hit the area around his son's school. he rushes to the school and finds that the school has been buried in debris. all the teachers are dead. crews are starting to clear the debris, but the father jumps in and starts ripping through it himself looking for his son, tearing through rocks and rubble with his bare hands. after an hour, no success. his hands are starting to bleed but he keeps going. many more hours pass and people are starting to give up, but this father doesn't. a full 24 hours passes, and he is exhausted and in pain. people tell him that there's no hope left at this point, but he keeps searching. after 32 hours of an excruciating search, he pulls a slab aside to find the face of his son under mounds of rock and debris. not only is he alive, but his face lights up as he turns to the 14 children behind him and says, "see, i told you he'd come back for me!" and that, jason evert proclaimed, is how passionately and personally God our Father loves each one of us.

that story made me come apart. now, i like to cry. i cry when i'm happy or when something touches me profoundly. but that night i cried like something was breaking. instead of making me feel loved and happy, that story made me weep for loneliness. see, i didn't feel like God loved me like that. even though i knew it in my head, my heart so many times denies the existence of such a huge love and refuses it. at this point i felt like running to Confession. i had been feeling the nagging need to experience this sacrament for a long time but couldn't pinpoint what i needed to talk to God about. this was it. but this was late at night and it wasn't available. so i had a while to think about it before i actually went.

i realized that not recognizing how much God loves me is the root of a lot of personal issues i've been having or have always had. i started to link it to my extreme self-consciousness, how much i doubt myself. how much i seek out love and approval from human beings because i'm not feeling it from my Creator. i knew, intellectually, that i was loved. but i kept forgetting or even doubting it in my heart. and i didn't know how to get that feeling back.

so i went to Reconciliation the next day. when i told the priest about doubting God's love for me, i wasn't chastised or lectured. he encouraged me to run to the Eucharist more. to go to more daily Masses and Eucharistic Adoration to experience the love of God through his Son. Jesus giving us his Body and Blood to consume and adore was the ultimate expression of love. this made so much sense to me and i can't explain the relief i felt to have something i could do.

but the most amazing thing about this confession was how much Jesus i sensed in this priest. the in persona Christe thing blew me away. i had never before felt that i was actually talking to God in confession, even though that's the point of it. it was incredible. i was almost sent to a priest that was pretty old, but then someone got finished quicker and i was directed towards a different one. this priest looked so young. he saw on my badge that i was an "adult" participant (meaning 21 or over) and pointed out that we both look young for our age, which made me feel connected to him. but beyond that, i felt a crazy connection as soon as i sat down and looked into his eyes. i referenced that i heard a story about God's love that really upset me. that was as specific as i got, but this priest knew exactly what story i meant. he even told some of it back to me using my name to make it that much more personal. and as he was responding to the sins i confessed, i looked at him and felt the love of God radiating from him. this priest didn't know me to love me, but i felt like this man knew me through and through. you don't feel immediate, unconditional love sitting down with a human being. this was Jesus sitting across from me. He knew how badly i needed to to feel His love in a real way. and He showed it to me in this priest, in just a few minutes.

i know this glow i feel now won't last forever. feelings are not the foundation of my faith. but i will always remember this experience, how God gave me exactly what i needed. and through the wisdom of this priest, i also learned how to keep coming back to this love of God. through his Son in the Eucharist, the ultimate gift of sacrificial love. and my Church gives me endless opportunities to seek Christ in Eucharistic Adoration and Mass, both Sunday and daily.

I woke up in darkness
surrounded by silence
oh where, where have I gone?
I woke to reality
losing its grip on me
oh where, where have I gone?

Cause I can see the light
before I see the sunrise

You called and you shouted
broke through my deafness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

You shattered my darkness
washed away my blindness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

Late have I loved you,
you waited for me,
I searched for you…
what took me so long?

I was looking outside
as if love would ever want to hide
I’m finding I was wrong

Cause I can feel the wind
before it hits my skin

You called and you shouted
broke through my deafness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

You shattered my darkness
washed away my blindness
now I'm breathing in
and breathing out
I'm alive again!

--Matt Maher, "Alive Again"

after hours

i struggle with time. fast-forwarding has never appealed to me so much. to skip ahead to a day when i have my degree behind me and a secure job waiting for me...i daydream all the time. but at the same time i can feel my last year of college slipping through my fingers and i'm trying to hold on. to some parts. not school. deadlines are driving up my blood pressure. one of my major projects this semester is researching anxiety in nursing students and i feel like i have a whole panel of experts at my disposal. another major project is working with a client with a mental illness. ironically, i think i am going to be the one coming out with the benefits.

despite my growing obsession with the date 05/08/2010, i'm happy. i have an incredible support network: my family, who i am more proud of than ever after this weekend. i think it's safe to say columbia, MO isn't there anymore because we drank it. i am lucky enough to live with my best friend and i really don't know what my college experience (hell, half of my life!) would be like without her. i was just asked to be a bridesmaid in my very good friend's wedding and i am SO thrilled and honored and excited. and i'm dating someone who never ceases to entertain, fascinate, and adore.

i auditioned for the one-acts, which was a blast, and got several callbacks but made the terribly hard decision not to follow through. it would have been suicide. school is my full-time job but i also have my scholarship job, youth ministry, voice lessons, and sophisticated ladies (a new women's vocal jazz ensemble!) and a semblance of a social life to maintain. my life is exciting enough. really, though. especially lately. i keep falling asleep smiling.

call to arms

why has it taken/is it taking me so long to realize that my life is what i make it? nursing school tries to make me feel incredibly powerless, but i need to take ownership of the things i can actually change and control. i've slid down the long slide of academia, all the way down to putting in minimal effort and time. because in so many instances, input doesn't equal output. not at all. i just want to graduate. i can't wait to have a job and work in an environment where people try to bring you up instead of squash you down. i experienced it this summer, i know it's out there.

so even though school keeps creeping up on me, i keep trying to stamp it down on my priorities list. for once, i don't have academic goals. my goal for senior year is maximizing time spent with people that are worth it. i've done some good work there already. just the other night at work i had a long talk with 2 of my junior students and they wanted to know how to get through their year. i told them to get a life outside of nursing, no matter the cost. do a show that rehearses until 10 then get up at 4:30 for clinicals. take a friend out for a birthday drink then go home to study afterwards. and don't ever spend an entire weekend doing homework.

on a non nursing note (the rest of my life note), i need to continually remind myself that some of the best things in my life have come out of my own assertiveness: i am empowered to have not only an opinion, but an influence on how things work out. seems simple enough. let's begin.

the laws have changed

title: song by the new pornographers.

this summer has been nothing but transitions. transitions and suitcases. i've soaked up the in-between as much as possible but i am so ready to settle somewhere for a long while. kirksville and all of its horrors, oddities, and delights are beckoning me.

i've learned a lot this summer. experience, in many senses of the word. i'm looking forward to switching off this Life's Little Lessons channel i've been tuned into and hit the books. and the bars.

to read and to be read

(the things my mind invents when on vacation/shouldn't have waited till i was sober to write)

a few hours ago, i thought it COULD be not only plausible but worthwhile to go back to school after graduation for a BA in english. oh god, i just heard avenue q in my head (what do you do with a BA in english?) we're in south carolina. i'm sitting on our deck drinking with my mom, my aunt patty, and our friend teresa dorsey and i have a book in my hand (ok, a play...red light winter by adam rapp) and teresa notices that i'm rarely without one and says, "why didn't you become an editor or something?" honestly, it's never even crossed my mind. i've always been strictly science as far as school goes, though the arts have oozed out of my every pore whenever i give them the chance.

does every person with a steady, normal person job also have talents on the back burner that do not lend themselves to steady, normal incomes? it's easier to think people just give up on these and that is the thing to do. i know that music is not something i want to study...music is something i can always do and i long ago decided doing music academically would kill it for me. and theatre, that is a love that isn't worth pursuing because i haven't got the natural talent. but literature. why haven't i ever given it a thought? i've been the biggest bookworm i know my entire life. i devour literary works in my free time, ranging from trash to classics (who takes a summer to consume as much drama as possible)? i have an unnatural love for grammar. i know i can write a hell of a paper, and i can fool around with fiction. i love to write almost as much as i love to read, i just make less of a habit of it.

the (sober) pragmatist in me is struggling with this because in all likelihood i wouldn't use the degree. i could tell myself that it's a door to alternate careers should i ever want to change directions in life: editor, critic, even a writer of some kind. but really what i want it for is...just to be educated. to be a little better rounded and cultured. i feel like nursing has filed me down to bare bones critical thinking (my department loves to stamp out all creativity) and i am in danger of developing tunnel vision. what i see when i look at people and things has been quite narrowed. to study great writing would be so different and so good for me...developing the right side of my brain, which is probably weak and pathetic compared to the truman nursing steroid-enhanced left side.

due to tipsy spontaneity (we did tequila shots tonight), i actually looked up truman's requirements for this degree and found that i can complete it in exactly one year. if, of course, i can get all the classes i need in 2 semesters. and yes, it would be truman. it would make the most sense because i have the entire LSP completed. and a nerdy admission: i can partially credit truman's liberal arts philosophy for inspiring this desire to be well rounded. truman, teresa, and tequila...hmm, catchy. in the end...it's only one year. but what i need to find out is if delaying entering the workforce for a year would hurt my chances of getting hired as a pediatric nurse...or if it would make me more interesting and marketable. this is a crazy whim, and i rarely have whims, let alone act on them.

this whim has to do with a question i have posed for myself: is a life worth living without contributing artistically to the world? and a quite different question, is nursing enough for me?

it's for people like you that keep it turned on.

because it so rarely happens to me, i love waking up too early because my only job in the world is to go back to sleep. or to do enjoyable things that might help me get sleepy. now, you are probably thinking that noon is far too late to be considered early. however, starting wednesday i work night shifts and have been trying to stay up late and get up late to get into night schedule. last night i went to bed after 4 and woke up around 10:30, which is just not ok.

this is The Summer of People Going Places and Doing Things. because of facebook, i am getting to see just enough of people's travels to get super, super jealous. i've done my fair share of traveling: most regions of the US, mexico, canada, france, spain, ireland, and the UK. but i can't help wishing my Summer of Doing Things was taking place somewhere more exotic than st. louis. oh well. i am still very grateful for the experience i am getting here, and as long as i make it back to ireland someday i'll be satisfied. plus, in 22 days i'm leaving to be on the east coast for the first time! savannah, GA and hilton head island, SC. 6 days of resorting, beaching and tanning, relaxing, seeing stuff, shopping, drinking, seeing dolphins, and who knows what else...yeah, i can't wait.

we decided to go for a place closer to the city than the beach, because while we intend to enjoy the beach, it's not like priority numero uno, we'd rather be within walking distance of shops and restaurants and bars (you know, menowns are all about safety). i just looked up the description for the place we rented and it's a short drive or bicycle ride from the beach! i am ridiculously excited by the thought of taking bikes to the beach.

yeah, toast!

it is noon thirty-nine in st. louis, MO, and i just changed out of my scrubs into pajama pants. no, i did not just get off work...i just woke up after sleeping about 12 hours without changing out of work clothes or even turning off the light. i had been laying there talking on the phone having a lovely conversation till about 12 something (1 something his time, whoops) and just passed out. i mean, that's not surprising for me to be able to do that, but...just goes to show how incredibly exhausted 3 days of work in a row leaves me. i also hit a new personal low last night by falling asleep on a bench outside of the hospital. chris girouard just came back from japan and we were going out to dinner so he could regale me with stories of the orient, and while i was waiting for him to pick me up, i narc-ed out on the bench. like a hobo, except sitting up and trying not to look like one.

i just finished my 7th week of my 10 week externship and that is astounding. work is still fantastic. just so draining. it's really difficult to go to bed at 9 pm in order to get my full 8 hours of sleep, so i just don't. and feel the consequences every day. dummy. yesterday i placed an NG tube on a 10-week-old! i don't get many opportunities to practice skills like that on kids but the baby's parents were gone and my preceptor walked me through it. (if you didn't know, a nasogastric tube is a feeding tube that goes through a nostril all the way to the stomach). this baby happened to need one because she refused to swallow food. 10 weeks old and only about 8.5 pounds, sad. and due to her multiple healing rib fractures, it's been decided that she's either a victim of abuse (even sadder) or she has osteogenesis imperfecta, which is incredibly interesting.

i'm very hungry and thirsty this morning and probably will be for a while because solving that problem involves going to the grocery store. all we have to drink in the house right now is spoiled milk and beer. oh, the glamorous life of college students. if you've been talking to me at all this summer you have probably heard me bitch about my pathologically messy roommates. i went home to kansas city this weekend and sunday night when i returned, found the kitchen was just disgusting because the trash had not been taken out, and thus was overflowing onto the floor. i was horrified, thinking my roommates had both lost their arms in some kind of brutal accident. alas, i found them lifting things like food, beer, and remote controls without any problems at all. so yeah, it is just that their personal maid was gone for the weekend. i will look on the bright side of this, however. these 10 weeks will serve as a lifelong lesson: never live with boys. i suppose if i want to get married i will have to violate this rule, but damn if that man will not be trained to do at least the bare minimum of household upkeep.