Inspired by my friend, Carissa, who un-earthed a blog entry from weblog past, I decided to log in to my first online journal--ever-- on xanga (username: QueenAngelPinHeart) to read...stuff. Five years ago, exactly on this date--incidentally, also a Thursday-- this is what I wrote:
i wish i had someone to look pretty for. someone to get butterflies in my stomach for. someone to think about... hmmm maybe every other day. someone that feels the same way. someone to hold my hand. someone who'll understand, even when it's hard someone that i can serve and lift up someone that i can't give up. someone who'll hold me when things aren't so easy someone who thinks i'm great, even though i feel sleazy but as i think about all those things that i had written i find that i should already be smitten because Jesus is all those things and more i don't know why i have to keep on searching
"Someone who thinks I'm great, even though I feel sleazy?!" Yeah. Uh, yeah. A little painful to read. I laughed a lot so it's ok if you laugh a lot, too. Hey, I was 18 years old! I was an 18 year old who, apparently, did not fully understand the word "sleazy," or at least, how to use it in the proper context. But hey, maybe I was a little sleazy back then. HAHA. Oh man. And who the heck was I thinking about when I was writing my sappy little poem? Nevermind. Maybe I don't want to remember.
It is interesting to see, however mushy or starry-eyed I was about love or falling in love, I still recognized that in all my longing, I should long the most for Jesus. Obviously, I had absolutely NO clue what that meant when I was 18. I'm barely grasping the concept now, as a 23 year old, about to turn 24--in a month! AH!
Today, Dr. Erik Thoennes, one of the teaching elders at Grace Evangelical Free Church in La Mirada, CA, spoke about Jesus as the Everlasting Father. In "light" of the Christmas season the church is doing a four-part series based of off Isaiah 9:6-7:
"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and Prince of Peace. "
In this morning's sermon, Dr. Thoennes encouraged the church in reminding us of Jesus' role as Everlasting Father in our lives. He talked about the context in which the prophet Isaiah spoke the prophetic words of Isaiah 9--it was during a time when God's people were in turmoil and in anguish due to the impending Assyrian invasion. Their rebellion and turning away from God has brought this disaster to them, but still, God promised them Hope:
"Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end. On the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this."
How amazing it is to have an everlasting Father who cares for us and that even our rebellion cannot keep Him from caring for us the way He intends to. He is a Father who is more than capable of taking care of us, unlike our earthly fathers, who are limited in there finite existence, who are bound to disappoint us because they are not perfect. But Jesus IS perfect and He has taken care of everything: He died for the sins of the world, so that we would be free from the law of sin and come to know God! And there is nothing that we go through, nothing that we need, no problem or pain that we experience that Jesus cannot meet or fulfill, or even, understand. He knows us. And the way He cares for us, may not always be what we expect or want. But to be able to trust in a God who is an everlasting Father, I mean, what is time to an everlasting God?
I did not intend for the title of my blog post to be so...creepy. Hah. Oh well.
You might find this surprising, since my affinity for children is borderline obsessive--but don't worry your kids are safe with me, I promise (can't guarantee I'll give them back though. Just kidding!) Anyway, as I was saying, you might be surprised to find out, that even though I love children, I have never really thought about potential names for potential children that I might produce someday. The reason for that is because thinking of potential children leads to thinking about potential husbands, or boyfriends, or weddings... stuff that I don't really care to think about or dwell on. Especially as of late, because believe it or not: boys stink. Sorry. They do. I try to stay away from them, or anything that has facial hair or speaks an octave lower than me.
Well, ok. It's not like I never think about weddings and/or stuff like that, I just try not to do it too much.
Anywho. Baby names. Ok well, today I ran across a name that I thought was...the greatest name. I recognize that that is a completely subjective statement and YOU may not agree with me, but I'm going to tell you anway. The name is... Milann (pronounced--carissa, help me out here--"mull-ahn"). Yeah. Like the city in Italy. I just think it's so... elegant. If God chooses to bless with me with a daughter (after he blesses me with a boyfriend who turns into a husband, etc), I am naming her Milann. Or at least that will be one of her names. She might have two.
Yeah, I know it's unorthodox. But I am a fan of unorthodox. After all, my real name IS Lenimfa.
I love Christmas for many reasons: Christ's birth, the nativity, peppermint tuxedo mochas (white chocolate + hot cocoa + espresso + peppermint), making paper snowflakes, How the Grinch stole Christmas, christmas sweaters, christmas lights and A Very Rosie Thomas Christmas (fantastic Christmas album if you're looking for one to offset all the Nat King Cole that's playing on the radio). Christmas is also a season of a bajillion Christmas parties that we get invited to. And Christmas parties means gift exchanges. And the best kind of gift exchanging is white elephant, which is really more like a game than it is about getting presents.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with a white elephant gift exchange, it is simply this: a hilarious event, where people bring random/outlandish gifts instead of store bought, serious gifts under $10 (i.e socks, scarves, picture frames, etc). Apparently this tradition finds its origin from Asian countries-- more specifically Thailand and Burma-- that culturally regarded white elephants as holy beings, believed to bring fertility, prosperity and power. The people believed that, due to the nature of these creatures (and since the death of a white elephant would spell disaster), they needed to pampered and served with special foods, given elaborate housings, etc. However, due to large amounts of resources needed, only Kings were able to afford the "basic" upkeep. Anyway, to make a long story short, the origin of elephant gifts came from kings, when very displeased with an assistant, would give this un-lucky assistant the elephant as a "gift" of honor. And at first, the gift does seem like an honor, however, as the assistant tries to bear the financial (and probably emotional) burden of taking care of such a holy being, the novelty of the gift wears off. Elephant gifts were the cause of financial crippling for many of these unfortunate assistants. This I find ironic since these elephants were supposed to bring prosperity and power. Hmmm. Tsk. Tsk. Well anyway, a white elephant, therefore, has become a symbol of a prized possession, whose maintenance cost, exceeds it's worth.
I was first introduced to this phenomenon in highschool. And I don't mean to brag, but, I'm kind of like, really good at it. Really good at picking out elephant gifts, I mean. I attribute this ability to my quirky personality and having a natural propensity to be random and unintelligible. For example (s), one year I drew a life size portrait of myself (yes, it was 5 feet 4 inches long) and gave that away to a very lucky individual: my friend Stephanie. Another year, I found a chandelier in my garage and after asking my parent's for permission, I put said chandelier in a very large box and Kirk Obermann walked away with that beauty (talk about a prized possession exceeding it's worth.) I think it was the year after that, that I gave a $10 gift card from Baby's R Us, complete with a "congratulations on your new baby!" card. Then there was the statue of a fisherman. It was a very nice statue: picturesque and nostalgic, a lunch box in his right hand, a fishing pole in the left. The best part about him though was that he had a duck head...for a head. Oh and the list goes on and on: a framed poster of Oscar De La Hoya (the boxer), my phone number (haha, a little presumptous, I know), and a pink, heart-shaped dog-tag I had made at wal-mart that said "I've been to 2nd base and back,"--BASE was the name of the floor that I lived on for two years at Biola...it also happened to be on the 2nd floor of the dorm. Hence, the name "2nd Base," and all the immature jr. high jokes that came along with that. JP Robles was the one who walked away with that necklace/dog-tag. I still see him around campus, wearing that necklace, proudly.
Tonight, we're doing a white elephant at the Level 1 Nursing party at Jessika McKay's house. I get to go shopping today for that. How exciting! I am ready. Ready for what the Thrift store has in "store" for me. I am ready. Here I go.
I bless thee that I see the worst of my heart as well as the best of it, that I can sorrow for those sins that carry me from thee, that is thy deep and dear mercy to threaten punishment so that I may return, pray, live. My sin is to look on my faults and be discouraged, or to look on my good and be puffed up. I fall short of they glory every day by spending hours unprofitably, by thinking that the things I do are good, when they are not done to thy end, nor spring from the rules of thy Word. My sin is to fear what never will be; I forget to submit to thy will, and fail to be quiet there. But Scripture teaches me that thy active will reveals a steadfast purpose on my behalf, and this quietens my soul, and makes me love thee. Keep me always in the understanding that saints mourn more for sin than other men for when they see how great is thy wrath against sin, and how Christ's death alone pacifies that wrath, that makes them mourn the more. Help me to see that although I am in the wilderness it is not all briars and barrenness. I have bread from heaven, streams from the rock, light by day, fire by night, thy dwelling place and thy mercy seat. I am sometimes discouraged by the way, but though winding and trying it is safe and short; Death dismays me, but my great high priest stands in its waters, and will open me a passage, and beyond is a better country. While I live let my life be exemplary, when I die may my end be peace.
While babysitting the other night, I had to explain to Brody, age five, what the word "conundrum" meant--which he then applied to a real life situation, as you will see further on in the story.
The word had slipped out of my mouth, while I was talking to Brody's baby brother, Brenner, a newly adopted 21 month old Ethiopian baby. Brenner was insistent on reaching for my food, though he had his own bowl of mashed up bananas in front of him--which was his second option, since he rejected his mom's chicken noodle soup. "This is my grown-up food, Brenner," I tried to explain, but Brenner responded with an indignant, "No," followed by some gibberish. Angry gibberish. "Well, what a conundrum we have," I sighed as I tried to think of a more creative way to get Brenner to eat his mush. Brody, who had been engrossed in the construction of his new Lego police airplane, immediately piped in:
"Hey! What does that mean?" "Hey, what does what mean?" "Co..non...Conunderum?" "Conundrum?" "yeah, co-coh-nonde...rum." "Um, people say it when there is a problem. Like Brenner not wanting to eat right now. That is a conundrum." "Co-nun-derum." "Yeah...and..." "There! finished," Brody beamed proudly, as he placed the last piece of lego on his airplane. Seeing that Brody was more interested in his plane than a vocabulary lesson from his baby-sitter, I dropped the subject and once again, turned my attention to Brenner.
I decided to let Brenner out of his high chair since he didn't seem to0 hungry at the moment, trusting that when he did get hungry, he would eat his mush happily. As soon as Brenner's feet touched the floor, he made a bee-line for his brother's newly constructed Lego airplane and "CRASH!" with one fell swoop, Brenner knocked the plane onto the floor. I quickly looked at Brody, who looked more shocked than he was angry, and then I looked at Brenner, who was smiling awkwardly, knowing he had done something bad. Before I could say anything, however, Brody screamed, at the top of his lungs, "CONUNDERUM! Brenner! CO-NUN-DUN-DERUM!!!"
I had all sorts of lofty ideals today about getting things done. I was going to get up at 8:00 this morning, get ready and do homework/study till 4:00pm, clean the kitchen and then head over to the Paschall's to babysit Ramie, Brody and Brenner.
Thus far, all I've done today is shower, journal for an hour and half, send a mass text to people I love and appreciate telling them how much I love and appreciate them, then I played guitar for an hour and now...I'm blogging. I think I've pretty much given up on whatever schedule I had for myself. Dahr. But it's ok because I felt like I was productive in a different way. I read 1 Thessalonians this morning and was greatly encouraged by this verse in particular:
Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful, he will surely do it. [1 Thessalonians 5: 23-24]
YES. God wins. He always wins. He's on my side...so I win, too. I hope that's not to blasphemous to say. I am not boasting in myself, but in Christ, through whom all things are possible. I love being a part of God's chosen generation. I hope I'm not coming off annoyingly optimistic. Would it help to say that life is hard? Because it sho' is. But life IS about sanctification, if you are loved by God. Still, that doesn't take the reality of painful situations away, but it does give us hope. As it says in 1 Thessalonians 5, that is why we put on the "breastplate of faith and love"--to protect our hearts-- and for a "helmet"--to protect our minds--the hope of salvation. While God does care amidst our trials and is so intimately involved in the details of our lives, He also has something greater for us, greater than even the greatest pain we might experience in our lifetime. And to be able to sincerely find hope and comfort in God's promises takes growth and growth takes time and the process of growing is the process of sanctification. God will help us see His glory in all things, in His perfect timing. And when it does happen, it is AWESOME.
With that said, I will now completely change the subject. Yesterday was my last clinical day at the hospital this semester and I got to spend it in the operating room. Yes, I got to observe a total hysterectomy (removal of a woman's uterus and cervix) and the best part of my day was when the surgeon placed the uterus and cervix in my gloved hands. YEAH I KNOW. Crazy. I thought he was just going to show me what a uterus looked like when he called me over to his side. I did not expect him to actually...give it to me. Well, he didn't give it to me. I didn't go home with another person's uterus in a jar. The doctor just handed it to me so I can say..."Yeah, I held a uterus." I eventually passed it to the nurse, who was waiting with a container, labeled "to Pathology." But wow, what a day, eh?
I cannot wait to finish nursing school--as fun as it is. I just want to be done with school. PERIOD. I told my roommates that I am throwing THE biggest party when I graduate in 2011. I also said, "Wouldn't it be great if that party happened to be a wedding? I mean, it would be so much more cost-effective to just have ONE big party instead of...two."
Haha, not that I'm in control of my life. But, hey...I can dream.
Today I gave 50 mg of Demerol mixed with 50 mg of Visatril via Intramuscular injection in the patient's dorsal gluteal, or right upper quadrant of the buttocks. Or to put in plain words: I gave someone a shot in the butt (or her right upper butt, if you want me to be more specific). The patient was in a lot of pain and that was the medication that her doctor ordered for her. And right before I gave my patient her shot, I thought to myself: how ironic it is that I would inflict more pain on this patient when she asked for relief. Apparently, Demerol + Visatril burns all the way in. Not to mention that I used a three inch needle to give it to her. Ouch.
But I had the best day of my life today because I had the opportunity to give that shot. I know that that is a weird thing to say and No! I don't know what's wrong with me!
Nursing school can be described in many words, in many ways, objectively--as per requirements of the California Board of Nursing-- and subjectively--because it can mean different things for different people. However, today I realized that if I can describe my experiences thus far in one word, I would say: Ironic. I mean, nursing students get excited about giving shots and doing finger sticks and starting IV's and watching a live open-heart surgery. Those are the things that we get "pumped" about. Things we get giddy about, things we give each other high-fives for.
The irony is this: Nursing students are being trained to help people and help them feel better, but in our training, we inflict pain on our patients, and... enjoy it. Though, I think the enjoyment itself is not directly related to what we're doing to the patient, but the exuding joy we feel is directly affected by what it is we are actually doing. Advancement and practice in any skill we're learning is always exciting. And let's not forget the competitive aspect of learning. Sometimes, people try to outdo one another on what we get to do while we're at clinicals. For example (based on a true story):
J: "Hey, I gave three units subq [subcutaneous injection] of insulin to my patient. She was like, so not going to let me, but then she was like 'ok,' and then I gave it in her deltoid." K: "Oh...that's cool. I gave 50 units. In the abdomen." J: "What? 50 Units? Really? K: "Yup." J: "Yeah, well...I had to give 12 oral meds today. All at 9:00. It was like, crazy busy. I was so frazzeled." K: "No way! I got to watch a CT guided Renal Biopsy and it was like, the last one ever that they're going to do in this hospital. They had to sedate the patient cause he was all combative and didn't want to be laying on his stomach. And the needle the doctor used for the biopsy was 18 inches long! " J: "AH! Fine! you win!"
We're all good sports. And I admit we are a little overzealous over picking patients who have a lot going on, or patients who have various procedures, medications or intense psychosocial issues. But like I said, all it means is that we want more practice, more experience. I mean, you'd want us to be good, well-practiced RN's right? Yeah, one of us could be your nurse someday.
We love surgeries, too. Which is kind of scary, I guess. The other day, a classmate of mine said: "So my OR [Operating Room] rotation is tomorrow and I was praying for a CABG [coronary artery bypass graft a.k.a open heart surgery]." I added to that by saying, "Well, I'm really hoping to see a lobotomy or maybe a craniotomy."
I admit that the reality of what we're hoping for, if one were to cross examine our "requests," is not the best of scenarios. In actuality, my classmate is hoping that someone will have a really bad heart attack, caused by occlusion of major arteries; and I'm hoping that someone out there will pass out from either a brain hemorrage or a tumor or maybe have some sort of major head trauma that will require a neurosurgeon to crack his skull open to fix or prevent further damage to the brain. I mean, what are the odds that someone would openly volunteer for such delicate and risky procedures saying, "I will gladly volunteer my body and sacrifice it in the name of science and for the sake of the curiously insatiable learning appetites of overzealous nursing students everywhere!"
What a strange world we/I live in. But it is the way it is. Ironic.
Every once in awhile I come across a song that I cannot stop listening to. This week, it's Jason Mraz's idealistically romantic tune, so appropriately titled,"Lucky." It's bubbly and sweet and one cannot help but bob their head to the song's nonchalant melody that is reminiscent of an innocent and child-like awe of romantic love. Colbie Callait, who actually wrote a song titled, "Bubbly," sings with Jason Mraz on this song. Their voices together blend very smoothly, like milk chocolate musical notes melting in your ears. It's like every musical fiber in my body...unwinds and I metaphorically, or literally, collapse on the floor in musical euphoria.
As a girl, I still think it's fun to listen to songs that talk about being "lucky in love." But I am also fully aware that romantic love is often too romanticized. I know that relationships take work, butterflies in my stomach or not, and there are no Prince Charmings or White Knights on White Horses anywhere on this planet, or this dimension, or this universe. Songs like "Lucky," reminds me of those stories shared by elderly people about how they met their wife or husband of 40 or more years and how they all claim that it was never that complicated when it came to loving someone. "You young people nowadays make everything too hard," one gentleman once told me. I told him that he may be on to something.
What the heck. I'm being such a...girl right now. Gross. Whatever. Listen to the song:
Maybe it was because Thanksgiving break was one of the best Thanksgiving breaks I've had in a long time. But I was incredibly perky today. Then again, I was incredibly perky all of last week.
It was so good to be home. Last week at a glance:
-I enjoyed the potluck on Tuesday night with my college group and singing 80's classics with Pastor Paul after the small group ended. The funniest moment of the night was when one of the Russian guys asked if he could hug me, which he then followed with a request for my phone number. "What?" After college group, a group of us went to Megan Spain's HUGE house out in the country and hung out till 2:00 in the morning, playing guitar and singing random folk songs (or turning pop songs into folk songs).
- On Wednesday, I got to spend some downtime with my best friend, Cristi. And she insisted that we watch "Hope Floats," with Harry Connick, Jr and Sandra Bullock. Even though I gave her a hard time about the movie, I secretly liked it. But shhh, don't tell.
-Thursday: My family and I made homemade lumpia (or filipino egg rolls. click HERE to learn more) on Thanksgiving day. I know, so cute, right? My brothers and I had great conversations throughout the week and I am greatly encouraged by how they're growing up. Granted, they're not perfect, but it really means a lot to me when my brothers tell me, at random points of the day, that they love me a lot. I am a "words of affirmation" type of person. And my brothers were definitely very affirming. :)
-Friday: Broomball is always a fun time. My church goes once a month and we play at the Gateway Ice Center in downtown Fresno. I think I was being a little too competitive since I managed to knock a few people over during the game. After broomball, we hung out at In-and-Out. I started a small French-Fry fight (to which my new friend, Vlad commented, "I've never seen a girl throw french fries before." Funny). I also managed to spill Dave Ashjian's diet coke all over him and Cristi, who was sitting next to him. Oops.
-Saturday: Potluck at Russell, Mike and Garrett's place (a place I like to call "the Outhouse" because it is so "out there." hah). People brought different foods, including mashed potatoes from a box! Definitely a first for me. After dinner, we played team charades by a bonfire and I somehow, managed to be the prop for most, if not all, the scenarios given. FUN! After I left "the Outhouse," my parents and I and my brother Lenny (Lenard was working and was unable to join us), went out for sushi and then watched "Bolt" afterwards. I highly recommend that movie if you like cute and funny. Or if you like talking, obese hamsters stuck inside a ball. I give it 2 thumbs WAY up.
-Sunday: I was reminded that all good things in life come from God. Pastor Paul taught on this passage from James 1: 17-19:
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from(B) the Father of lights(C) with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.[a]18(D) Of his own will he(E) brought us forth by the word of truth,(F) that we should be a kind of(G) firstfruits of his creatures.
This brings us to today: I truly am thankful to be in a place where I can sincerely thank God for His grace, even when life is hard. Life has not been easy for the past year and a half. And I know that it has not been always easy to say that God is good. But today, I was able to reflect on the goodness of God by taking a step back and looking at the good and wonderful things in my life and things that He has taught me. This blessed my soul and my spirit GREATLY. Just thinking back on the week I've had and the blessings I continue to have in my relationship with the Father, through Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit, I am SO SO SO blessed. I am grateful that God is faithful, that He is good and un-changing. He has blessed me with a loving family, encouraging friends, a reconciled relationship with Him through Jesus Christ, an increasing knowledge and pursuit of Him, the nursing program, children that I can hang out with on a weekly or bi-weekly basis, a great place to live and wonderful roommates to live with...the list goes on and on. It is days like these that make the trials so worth it, because God's glory shines brighter and clearer. His goodness is no longer something lofty that I cannot understand. His goodness and His greatness becomes more and more real.
