thanks for nothing

dear rory,

winter winds are freezing the last stubborn leaves off of trees, frantic turkeys are dodging in and out of bushes, plastic pilgrims are posing on mantelpieces, and families are getting out the measuring tapes to see just how much food they can cram onto the surface area of their dining tables.

you know what that means, don’t you? it’s almost Thanksgiving! almost time to sit around and groan after filling our bellies with turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing and carrots and green beans and bread and pie.

my family has a tradition that after the meal is finished, we go around the table and each say something we’re thankful for. usually someone says ‘our family’ or ‘our church’ or ‘our friends’ or something along those lines.

of course, saying we are thankful for friends and family and church are all good things, great things in fact. but have you ever been thankful for what you don’t have?

a few days ago I thanked God for not shipwrecking me on a desert island. can you imagine washing ashore and not knowing if there was freshwater? not knowing if there was food? can you imagine not having anybody to talk to? not knowing if cannibals lived just beyond the next tree? not knowing if you would ever be rescued or if you would ever see your family again?

I’m also thankful that I’m not blind. I like seeing the world and everything in it. glittering leaves in the fall, mountains of snow in the winter, tiny buds of life in the spring, and tall glasses of pink lemonade in the summer all bring instant happiness to my eyes. not seeing them would be terrible. and not seeing the faces of those I love would be devastating.

another thing: I’m grateful that I don’t live in a time when forced marriages were perfectly normal. I shudder everytime I read Jane Austen and try to imagine my family forcing me to marry for riches or position instead of love. as silly as it sounds, I would almost rather be dead than be forced to marry someone.

a few more things I’m thankful for also include not living in a butterfly infested house, not eating jello for every meal, not having to live in a cardboard box, not waking up to a day of working in cotton fields, not being an Eskimo, not feeling frightened when I go to bed, not wondering if I’ll get to eat the next day, not being forced to believe something I don’t, and the list goes on and on and on.

this past year has been somewhat hard for me and my family. watching my parents stress about paying bills hasn’t really been fun. losing a sibling I didn’t even get to meet was downright painful. learning some hard lessons wasn’t exactly pleasant.

these types of issues were items that had previously been on my “thankful for not having to deal with” list. I didn’t want to go through them. at one point, I probably would have told you that I couldn’t survive having to go through them. and yet, as they came, I realized something important. something that I am extremely thankful for.

and that is this: God never gives us more than we can bear. He gives us the strength we need to make it through difficult times, through difficult situations, and through difficult relationships. And through those things, He makes us stronger and He makes us more like Him.

I can honestly say I am thankful for the hard things I've had to go through this year. that's not to say I enjoyed them. because I didn't. but God used them for His purposes, and for that I am thankful.

God is so good.

and that’s why tomorrow, when I am asked what I’m thankful for, I know what I will say:

I am thankful that God has been, is, and always will be right there with us through the good times AND the bad times.

this thanksgiving I am thankful for a bunch of 'nothings'. I am thankful that there is NOTHING that God can’t handle (Matthew 19:26). That there is NOTHING that He can’t help me through (Hebrews 13:5). I am thankful that NOTHING can seperate us from the love of Christ (Romans 8:38-39). And that there is NOTHING in heaven above or the earth below that I need to fear (Romans 8:31).

so. does that mean that even if I was a blind person shipwrecked on a desert island with my husband whom I had been forced to marry, that God would help me through that?

yep.

but for now I’m keeping that on my “thankful for not having to deal with” list. ;)

I hope you have a splendid Thanksgiving. may God bless you with many things to be thankful for.

even if they are things you never thought you could be thankful for.

love you,
muffin

0500

dear muffin,

it's dark at 0500 hours. dark & cold. bursting out of the revolving door and into the hospital is always a relief: warmth, light, & the smell of cafeteria coffee rush forward. 

this morning was no different. in a blink I found myself walking around an oncology unit with the night-shift nurse & the oncoming day nurse. my pen tried valiantly to keep up with a steady stream of patient information, IV drip rates, recent vital signs, & critical lab values as the night-shift nurse delivered her report.

slipping into the first room, I peered through the darkness and detected a shallow rise & fall beneath the bed linens. lying on the bed amidst blinking monitors & an IV pump was a man younger than my father.

"former army doctor. stationed in the middle east." the night-nurse says. "he contracted hepatitis while working there; he's terminal now. comfort care only... there's nothing more we can do for him." 

I watched as the IV pump's blue light blinked across his face. it must be nearly impossible to sleep with so many distractions: lights, beeps, blinks, alarms. nurses checking on him, talking in his room. talking about him. 

we moved to the next room, and I gently closed the door behind us. the nurse was talking again.

"...and here's 11A: he's septic. history of cancer of the head, neck, esophagus, liver, & kidney. his magnesium level is down to 1.2 this morning." she gave the oncoming nurse an exasperated expression. "the doctor's been steadily increasing his dosage, but he just keeps dropping. we don't know what's going on." 

the little old man craned his neck out of the bed linens. his head was wrapped snuggly in a knit beanie. 

"eh? you're who?" he said when I introduced myself. "oh, hi kristen-the-nursing-student. it's not wednesday anymore." he cocked his head & glared at me.

I must have looked uncertain.

"THAT!" he said, pointing to the whiteboard opposite his bed. a preprinted calendar had been attached, and "wednesday" was circled in blue dry erase marker, followed by yesterday's date.

"oh! no, it certainly isn't wednesday anymore. here, let me fix it for you." I rubbed out the old date & circled thursday, then added my name beside the nurse's. suddenly I was struck by how much my signature looked like a kid's, squeezed in beside the nurse's official-looking scrawl.

the nurses had already left me behind, marching on to the next room & the next patient. I walked over to the man's bed and & gave him a big smile. 

his eyes were surprisingly clear. pained, but bright. in them I could see the toughened weariness that comes with long medical battles. his chart had told me that this was the fourth time he'd been hospitalized with sepsis in the last ten years. this time they'd had to insert a chest tube. [which is exactly as unpleasant as it sounds.] as soon as the tube was in place, 3 liters of infected fluid came flooding out of his lung cavity. I didn't even know there was room for 3 liters of fluid inside the lung cavity.

a portion of my mind began a routine assessment of the man. airway open; oxygen running smoothly at 2 L, nasal cannula. wheezing. a coarse cough that sounded like it could drown him at any moment. breathing so labored that it made his abdomen heave with the effort. but eyes bright, and locked onto mine.

"I'll be back in a little while," I said. "...but is there anything I can do for you right now?"

do for me? those eyes asked. what can you do for me?

"nah," the man said. "I'm fine. thanks, though."

I spent the rest of the shift trying to do something for him. I'd like to think I brightened his day; made him more comfortable, explained something that had confused him. for 6 hours, his problems were my problems & my sole responsibility was to help him through the day.

but at the end of every shift, I go home. I share my stories with my family while heating up leftovers for a late lunch. stories. that's what the patients become.

"oh, you shoulda been here last night." the nurse said when I joined her back at the nurse's station. "I had to call a code on 504A. I saw her heart monitor go flat, so I figured her chest leads had just fallen off... but I walked into the room & she was all slumped over. blue. she had a 'do not resuscitate' order in her chart, so we couldn't even touch her. the entire code team had to just stand there & watch as she died." the nurse sipped her starbucks & went back to charting.

my patient could code tonight. he could stop breathing & never start again, like the patient in 504A. I would never hear about it. from now until forever, he's a story to me. just like 504A is now a story to that nurse.

it's a strange business. 

and on that cheery note, I toddle off to bed. count your blessings as you fall asleep... at the top of my list tonight are 1) health. this may sound funny coming from a girl who currently sports a fever. but a day in the hospital never ceases to drive me to thankfulness. I could have lymphoma, heart failure, brain tumor! amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, Hashimoto's encephalopathy, schizophrenia! but all I have is a slight, non-threatening elevation of body temperature that will most likely resolve itself in under 48 hours. gah.

2), this amazing planet God has given us. if you haven't watched this video yet, go do it. http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/the-most-amazing-time-lapse-video-ive-ever-seen.html

and 3), the heroes who daily risk their lives for ours. may we never take for granted the sacrifices they make for us.

always,

rory

friendly couches

dear rory,

it is kind of late. and guess what?

I’m eating blueberry oatmeal, listening to “beautiful things” by Gungor, feeling wide awake, wishing i hadn't played my guitar until my fingers turned blue, and writing to you.

actually, I’m not really writing. I’m copying.

you see, about a week ago at babysitting, the baby fell asleep. so I dragged out my math book and slaved away for the rest of the afternoon like the model student that I am.

okay, well, not really.

I DID get out my notebook and pencil and I DID look at the cover of my math book for an awfully long time.

but I felt the need to write.

so I wrote.

and now I’ll copy it here for you. (please be warned now: this letter is just my random thoughts and musings. nothing terribly deep.)

“dearest rory,

I am writing to you from a foreign couch.

no, it wasn’t made in italy. no, I am not IN italy. it’s merely foreign because I don’t know it very well.

do I like knowing my couches? well, yes, I do. I‘m friends with many a couch.

like the couch in your basement.

I remember one of the first times your family had us Smockies over. you, Laura, and I were the Queens of the Marshpillows (a distant planet made of marshmallows and pillows). Lauren and Daniel alternated being the royal dog, and (when he wasn’t the pampered pooch) Daniel also served as part-time court jester. he had a tough job trying to amuse our royal majesties.

when we got tired of him, we queens would talk business. you promised me a diamond the size of planet earth (which, I am still waiting for, btw) and I promised you all the marshmallows you could want.

many more happy memories followed.

having late night talks, watching the Bourne and LOTR trilogies, eating pancakes for a midnight snack, listening to music, resting my head on your shoulder, playing Cranium, and hiding behind pillows during the scary parts of movies are all a big part of that couch.

I’m also friends with the couch in the Higgins’ schoolroom. when we were younger, we kids aired our own news station from that couch. I interviewed Caleb about his latest book (which, he hilariously knew nothing about) and we ended the sitcom on the floor laughing. I believe we even did a weather forecast in which every day had the same weather as the day before.

also on that couch, we took turns doing the voices for Robin Hood and Pilgrim’s Progress, we had our own tea party in which Christian was Mrs. Nesbit, and we added our own soundtrack to Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Calvin usually just rolled his eyes at the rest of us. and that only egged us on.

another friendly couch belongs to the Doves. I remember singing hymns from that couch, sharing my lyrics with whomever happened to be nearby, watching Lena play the piano as she kept time with our voices, and envying her ability to play so calmly in front of so many people.

that couch is always happy and warm.

except for the time we watched a really sad movie. it was so late at night, that I don’t remember anything about the movie other than there being a midget whose dog gets killed. oh, and I think there may have been a blind man? maybe I dreamt the whole thing. it’s possible, because I have slept on that couch. I've also been unjustly hung from that couch, built my Empire from that couch, and played ‘extreme catch’ from that couch.

oh there are so many more couches that I love!

but I just realized how odd it must seem to you that I’m rambling on about couches.

and I don’t really have much to say to that. it is weird.

I guess the reason I enjoy those couches so much isn’t because they are couches. it’s because of all the memories they hold. all the happy, smiling people I connect them to.

I think it’s cool that God designed us to attach memories to things and people.

wouldn’t it be sad if we were always forgetting the past?

wouldn’t it be sad if all couches were foreign?”

the end.

wait, the end?

okay fine, I’ll try to sum up what I was feeling then and still feel all the time.

I like memories. I like inanimate objects. I like that memories thrive in inanimate objects.

I like that memories and inanimate objects are closely tied to real live people. because I like people.

and finally, you are a people, and I like you. (not really sure what that has to do with anything, but whatever. :)

sorry for the randomness. and yet i'm not. it's good to take pleasure in the little random things of life sometimes.

like couches.

well, my oatmeal is gone. my song ended like forty minutes ago. my pillow is staring at me.

good night my dear friend!

love,
muffin

of muffins & birthdays

once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, there were two little girls. 

the first little girl had curly golden hair & bright green eyes. The other had stick-straight brown hair chopped in a bob & a smile that never showed her teeth. they had known each other since forever [which is code for "I can't remember how long"]. 

one day, after being in the same sunday school class together, the golden-haired girl got hold of a phone & called the girl with the bob. "hi. do you want to be friends?" she asked as one five-year-old to another. frankly, I have no idea what the brown-headed girl said in reply. I hope it was good. but whatever the response, it marked the official beginning of a friendship.

later, the two girls took a tap dancing class together. this involved dressing up like sailors & dancing to a song about the good ship lollipop. the golden-haired girl's outfit was complete with a green cast wrapping her broken arm, making her look like a hardcore child athlete. beside her, her devoted brown-haired friend diligently tapped her shoes in a toneless clatter [when she wasn't dissolving into hysterics before a performance, that is. but that's a story for another time].

time ran along, and the brown-haired girl left with her family to attend a different church. for a while, the two friends went separate ways. until, that is, one night when their fathers happened to meet at a homeschool support group meeting. I believe there was some sort of ensuing conversation involving various points of controversial theology. whatever the case, on the way home, the brown-haired girl's mother announced that she had invited the golden-haired girl's family over for dinner.

eyes widened all across the backseat. "but, mom... we don't even remember them! what if we don't like each other?"

they need not have worried. judging by the number of sleepovers, taco bell birthdays, ding-dong ditchings, movie nights, starbucks runs, & shopping dates that were to come, I'd say they didn't mind each other terribly.

years passed, and the girls grew taller. well, one of them did. the golden-haired girl started to be asked, while shopping at the mall, whether she was Taylor Swift. and suddenly, as life began to swirl faster around them both, the brown-haired girl began to realize how blessed she was to have such a friend.

as she sat in class on the first day of November, the brown-haired girl mused on the passing of years & the growing of friendships. & in particular she thanked the Lord for that dear golden-haired girl who called her up one morning & asked to be friends.

so. as the years continue to roll along, I hope you'll always keep your eyes on the One who made you & who delights to see you grow in maturity. keep smiling, keep loving, keep forgiving, keep learning from your mistakes. never let go of your calling as a follower of the only One whose opinion of you matters. 

happy birthday, muffin. now go eat some cake before I come over & eat it for you. =]]

always,

rory