Aaaaah. It's finally summer!
I'm on a mission to make over my house on the inside. I have jars and jars of seashells and its my intention to spread them all over the house and fool my senses into thinking we're at the beach. . .as long as we don't look out the windows. :-) I have a palette of blue paint I'm going to use to repaint my black bookshelves, and huge piece of blue fabric I'm going to sew into more valances for the living room and dining room. It's going to be delightful!
Today was my son's end-of-the-year party at school. Kind of bittersweet. But I must confess, I'm very much looking forward to a break from the commute to his school. It was a wonderful party, and we had tons of fun! I have a very tired little boy who has been napping for about 2 hours now. He drank about 3 cups of water before he finally zonked out. The rest of us are relaxing under the ceiling fan watching Chronicles of Narnia, sipping peach sweet iced tea. *sigh* I do love summer....
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
A week of Wacky Wednesdays and a confession
I've had about a week of Wacky Wednesdays and its been truly beautiful. Jesus sent my family angels last week, and we've been very busy! Prayers have been answered all around me and my family in our little part of the universe, and we've been humbly and joyfully trying to keep up and praise God all along the way. More on my angels later. This morning, my spirit is on fire and I just have to get it all out before the fire dwindles inside of me from the trappings of the earthly responsibilities I am tied to no longer wait for my attention.
I must begin with a confession. Earlier this year I stepped into the world of clinical depression after spending an entire Thursday night sobbing into the early hours of morning and walking into class the next day to a failing grade on an exam. That day I had the first panic attack I have had in almost a decade as I walked myself across campus to one of my most beloved professors and fell to pieces in her office. I knew what she would tell me but I needed to hear it: Its time to get help. So I did.
The next few weeks were excruciating. I had to dig the semester out of the dumpster my depression had put it in academically, while digging open wounds too long neglected in the darkest caverns of my soul and getting used to the medications I was prescribed to manage the crippling anxiety attacks and crying jags. By the time the second half of the semester began, I was just beginning to feel like I was keeping my head above water and could breathe a little easier. However, a new class was beginning - Psychosocial Nursing. I was actually looking forward to this class because of my psychology background and the new dimension of the human condition the nursing perspective would bring. However, my first week of clinical rotations left me feeling very vulnerable.
I could see the pain in the people's eyes vividly. Years of heartache and suffering showing lifetimes upon lifetimes on their faces and bodies, making them appear eons older than they really were. My heart bled for them as they shared the stories of their battles with addiction. Jesus showed me time and time again the frailty of the human soul. One of the counselors put it very clearly: Each one of us is one phone call, one event away from any one of these people. No one is immune. Pain can do this to anyone.
I was assigned to the adolescent unit my first week. While my own battle with depression made me feel totally inadequate in any therapeutic role, with them I felt a little more confident in my abilities. At least I had some life experience behind me I could share with them, some wisdom I could offer from my own mistakes in addition to my textbook knowledge.
I had a couple of amazing "God appointments" before I had to drop the class, but one young man stands out because of the wisdom he imparted to me that finally came to full recognition today. I will call him Carl.
Carl is a 17 year old young man who has been in and out of the adolescent unit several times for suicide attempts. Carl is a cutter. He feels such immense amounts of pain he is unable and incapable of expressing verbally. Instead, he uses knives, razor blades, and the like to cut his own flesh to physically relieve the pain he feels on the inside. Carl is incredibly intelligent, well-spoken, and very well-read. You can see he has been gifted with creativity in his books, music, and clothing. I'm told each time he as come to the facility, he looks different - his hair, style of clothing, etc. Carl struggles with his identity, and feels misunderstood by all who surround him.
My last day of clinical he made a powerful statement in group. "I wish people would realize that cutting is an addiction."
This morning, a cannon went off inside of me after reading the story behind a non-profit organization I found about a month ago. Read it here . I had read 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, which speaks of love being the center of all that we do, otherwise all our efforts mean nothing. They amount to nothing. Love is always the answer.
Addiction sucks. I battled addiction to cigarettes, using them to "relax" me when I was upset. I still battle when things get tough. Its hard to pass the gas station on days when it seems Satan is throwing everything he's got at me and my joy. But my God is faithful. His love exemplified on the Cross is evidence of His unconditional love. My redemption through Jesus Christ is, too.
I confess love has not always been at the center of my efforts. Lord, please forgive me of my self-love. Father, I love You. Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to write Jesus' love on the arms of the broken, bleeding, and desperate. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.
I must begin with a confession. Earlier this year I stepped into the world of clinical depression after spending an entire Thursday night sobbing into the early hours of morning and walking into class the next day to a failing grade on an exam. That day I had the first panic attack I have had in almost a decade as I walked myself across campus to one of my most beloved professors and fell to pieces in her office. I knew what she would tell me but I needed to hear it: Its time to get help. So I did.
The next few weeks were excruciating. I had to dig the semester out of the dumpster my depression had put it in academically, while digging open wounds too long neglected in the darkest caverns of my soul and getting used to the medications I was prescribed to manage the crippling anxiety attacks and crying jags. By the time the second half of the semester began, I was just beginning to feel like I was keeping my head above water and could breathe a little easier. However, a new class was beginning - Psychosocial Nursing. I was actually looking forward to this class because of my psychology background and the new dimension of the human condition the nursing perspective would bring. However, my first week of clinical rotations left me feeling very vulnerable.
I could see the pain in the people's eyes vividly. Years of heartache and suffering showing lifetimes upon lifetimes on their faces and bodies, making them appear eons older than they really were. My heart bled for them as they shared the stories of their battles with addiction. Jesus showed me time and time again the frailty of the human soul. One of the counselors put it very clearly: Each one of us is one phone call, one event away from any one of these people. No one is immune. Pain can do this to anyone.
I was assigned to the adolescent unit my first week. While my own battle with depression made me feel totally inadequate in any therapeutic role, with them I felt a little more confident in my abilities. At least I had some life experience behind me I could share with them, some wisdom I could offer from my own mistakes in addition to my textbook knowledge.
I had a couple of amazing "God appointments" before I had to drop the class, but one young man stands out because of the wisdom he imparted to me that finally came to full recognition today. I will call him Carl.
Carl is a 17 year old young man who has been in and out of the adolescent unit several times for suicide attempts. Carl is a cutter. He feels such immense amounts of pain he is unable and incapable of expressing verbally. Instead, he uses knives, razor blades, and the like to cut his own flesh to physically relieve the pain he feels on the inside. Carl is incredibly intelligent, well-spoken, and very well-read. You can see he has been gifted with creativity in his books, music, and clothing. I'm told each time he as come to the facility, he looks different - his hair, style of clothing, etc. Carl struggles with his identity, and feels misunderstood by all who surround him.
My last day of clinical he made a powerful statement in group. "I wish people would realize that cutting is an addiction."
This morning, a cannon went off inside of me after reading the story behind a non-profit organization I found about a month ago. Read it here . I had read 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, which speaks of love being the center of all that we do, otherwise all our efforts mean nothing. They amount to nothing. Love is always the answer.
Addiction sucks. I battled addiction to cigarettes, using them to "relax" me when I was upset. I still battle when things get tough. Its hard to pass the gas station on days when it seems Satan is throwing everything he's got at me and my joy. But my God is faithful. His love exemplified on the Cross is evidence of His unconditional love. My redemption through Jesus Christ is, too.
I confess love has not always been at the center of my efforts. Lord, please forgive me of my self-love. Father, I love You. Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to write Jesus' love on the arms of the broken, bleeding, and desperate. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Whew!
I took my pharmacology final exam this morning - school is out for the semester! I get a brief break, then summer classes resume after Memorial Day.
My brain is numb and my plan is to do as little thinking as possible for the rest of the day. I'm perusing all things beach-inspired online - anything that has to do with the ocean, sand, and sun. My plan is to turn my quaint little home into a beach-style cottage. Goodness knows I have enough shells I've collected over the past few years to decorate the whole house!
I've been painting what I can white, and plan on sewing and repurposing a light blue tablecloth into valances for my living and dining rooms. I found a wonderful desk on Freecycle that I'm going to turn into a sewing desk. I already started to paint it, but its going to need primer. The white paint has turned a cream color from the stain underneath. *sigh*
Time to go now. I have to go pick up my kiddo :)
My brain is numb and my plan is to do as little thinking as possible for the rest of the day. I'm perusing all things beach-inspired online - anything that has to do with the ocean, sand, and sun. My plan is to turn my quaint little home into a beach-style cottage. Goodness knows I have enough shells I've collected over the past few years to decorate the whole house!
I've been painting what I can white, and plan on sewing and repurposing a light blue tablecloth into valances for my living and dining rooms. I found a wonderful desk on Freecycle that I'm going to turn into a sewing desk. I already started to paint it, but its going to need primer. The white paint has turned a cream color from the stain underneath. *sigh*
Time to go now. I have to go pick up my kiddo :)
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Come what may
You know how women talk about their "pre-pregnancy" jeans? Well, I have my "before-nursing-school" jeans. Actually, I have a whole list of "before-nursing-school" things! Yet, the only thing I miss are my jeans. . .
Here is a picture of my husband and I about a month before we started dating. We were just friends (no really. I wasn't the least bit interested in dating him. Or so I kept telling myself.) and I asked him to accompany Thomas and I to a Braves game. Single mom and all, I thought it would be wise to bring someone along, and since he got along so well with Thomas, I thought it would be fun.
Here is another picture of my friend Kimmie and I.
Those jeans are a size 12 and that belt? Yeah. It was the only thing keeping them on myself. If I didn't wear a belt, they didn't stay up.
I was in the gym 5 to 6 days a week, doing cardio in the morning (I lived with my brother and his wife, so I wasn't leaving my son home alone. No need to call DFCS.) and weight lifted in the evenings with a great friend and personal trainer, Greg. It was a small gym, and my son would come along, do some schoolwork or watch a movie on a portable DVD player I got on Black Friday. When he got bored, Greg and a couple of the guys would do "push offs" with him. He would drink a chocolate milk while I chugged a Muscle Milk Light afterwards and say, "Yeah, Mommy - we need our protein!" I was in the best shape of my life! However, despite Greg's humble heart keeping me focused on my health, I became a victim of my vanity. Life got tough. I got arrogant. I slipped on my physical and nutritional discipline for silly reasons and expected my body to withstand it. Fast forward 6 months from this picture (taken April of 2010) to mid-terms last fall - my first semester of nursing school. I hadn't worn those jeans in almost two months.
By Christmas, I had to buy new pairs of jeans - two sizes larger. I was devastated. The toll of nursing school - mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually - had amounted to a 30lb weight gain. Dude, I'm short. That is A LOT of weight. Here is us this Easter.
Once I saw this picture, I knew it was time to get a hold of my health. Stephen and I are working together this May on getting our health back on track. His family history of severe high blood pressure looms overhead, and he also feels the effects of the weight he's gained. While searching the internet for something we can do together, I found two websites: Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans and their May Your Way Challenge and The Couch to 5K Running Plan. I also found The One Hundred Push Up Challenge which he is super excited about. Me? Not so much. But a little healthy competition never hurt anyone, right? Yikes. 100 push ups. He's lucky I love him so much. ;-)
Day One: I did the C25K (Couch to 5K) week one this morning. Very humbling. A year ago, I would have been halfway through it before I started even sweating. By the end of the first 60 seconds, my lungs were screaming "STOP!" which fortunately was at just the right time for the 90 second walk phase. It was tough, but not too tough. Just tough enough to keep going. The little track I was on is surrounded by trees and honeysuckle and is actually quite pretty. No one else was on it, so I found myself praying out loud during my "recovery" walks, praying God's word back to Him, repeating Scripture to myself, reinforcing the Truth of His word with every step. By the time I finished, I must say, I was thrilled. But the best part was what happened when I finished. At the exact point I finished was a tree with the most beautifully fragrant, teeny white blossoms shaped like stars. As I took my final step, a gust of wind blew and I was showered with white stars. I couldn't help but close my eyes and look up and savor the feel of the delicious-smelling confetti from God fall on my cheeks. My Heavenly Father was cheering me on, and celebrated my finish with me.
Come what may, I'm getting healthy again. Not for my vanity, but to honor God with taking care of the only body He gave me; and not my way or in my own strength, but His way - strengthened, encouraged, and under-girded by the power of the Cross of Jesus Christ. 'Cause really, Jesus is all I need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)
Here is a picture of my husband and I about a month before we started dating. We were just friends (no really. I wasn't the least bit interested in dating him. Or so I kept telling myself.) and I asked him to accompany Thomas and I to a Braves game. Single mom and all, I thought it would be wise to bring someone along, and since he got along so well with Thomas, I thought it would be fun.
Here is another picture of my friend Kimmie and I.
I was in the gym 5 to 6 days a week, doing cardio in the morning (I lived with my brother and his wife, so I wasn't leaving my son home alone. No need to call DFCS.) and weight lifted in the evenings with a great friend and personal trainer, Greg. It was a small gym, and my son would come along, do some schoolwork or watch a movie on a portable DVD player I got on Black Friday. When he got bored, Greg and a couple of the guys would do "push offs" with him. He would drink a chocolate milk while I chugged a Muscle Milk Light afterwards and say, "Yeah, Mommy - we need our protein!" I was in the best shape of my life! However, despite Greg's humble heart keeping me focused on my health, I became a victim of my vanity. Life got tough. I got arrogant. I slipped on my physical and nutritional discipline for silly reasons and expected my body to withstand it. Fast forward 6 months from this picture (taken April of 2010) to mid-terms last fall - my first semester of nursing school. I hadn't worn those jeans in almost two months.
By Christmas, I had to buy new pairs of jeans - two sizes larger. I was devastated. The toll of nursing school - mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually - had amounted to a 30lb weight gain. Dude, I'm short. That is A LOT of weight. Here is us this Easter.
Day One: I did the C25K (Couch to 5K) week one this morning. Very humbling. A year ago, I would have been halfway through it before I started even sweating. By the end of the first 60 seconds, my lungs were screaming "STOP!" which fortunately was at just the right time for the 90 second walk phase. It was tough, but not too tough. Just tough enough to keep going. The little track I was on is surrounded by trees and honeysuckle and is actually quite pretty. No one else was on it, so I found myself praying out loud during my "recovery" walks, praying God's word back to Him, repeating Scripture to myself, reinforcing the Truth of His word with every step. By the time I finished, I must say, I was thrilled. But the best part was what happened when I finished. At the exact point I finished was a tree with the most beautifully fragrant, teeny white blossoms shaped like stars. As I took my final step, a gust of wind blew and I was showered with white stars. I couldn't help but close my eyes and look up and savor the feel of the delicious-smelling confetti from God fall on my cheeks. My Heavenly Father was cheering me on, and celebrated my finish with me.
Come what may, I'm getting healthy again. Not for my vanity, but to honor God with taking care of the only body He gave me; and not my way or in my own strength, but His way - strengthened, encouraged, and under-girded by the power of the Cross of Jesus Christ. 'Cause really, Jesus is all I need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)
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