Easter: Dear Husband Style

You know, not every woman is fortunate enough to have a husband who doesn't quite fit the mold. I mean, perhaps, a husband who is multifaceted. I am lucky.

Yesterday was Easter. A day often celebrated with a confusing array of traditions, mostly (as my husband pointed out) for the benefit of the mother of the family. After all, an Easter Egg hunt is conspicuously irrelevant to our major focus...that being the Resurrection of Christ. But I always justify it by admitting that it also marks the beginning of spring. After all, a lady can go ahead and wear white shoes after this day, can she not?

It is also a day of schedules. Mine consists of getting up early, having easter baskets for the kids, egg hunt, eating a special breakfast of some kind, getting into fancy dresses and ties (actually, this tradition is sadly going away), going to church, coming home and toiling over a hot stove to awe the family with my culinary talents and providing a fancy holiday fare for lunch. However, my job manages to get in the way for one Summer and one Winter holiday a year. I had to get ready to go to work when it was all over.

Enter: My husband. He has over the last couple of years picked up some exceptional cooking skills. He cooked the entire Easter dinner for us....really. Here he's cooking for us...scalloped potatoes to go with our glazed ham.

Awesome!

Now, here's what I'm talking about when I say he's multifaceted. I mean, not all husbands would go through the trouble of making these:

Oh yes indeed! He made baby chick deviled eggs! He even dyed them yellow with food coloring! Yes he did! The eyes are pimientos, the feet and bills are carrots, and they have a plume of fresh dill. He also went on to explain that he didn't like the term "Deviled" Eggs, so he made "Bronco-ed" Eggs instead...with more food coloring. Typical...

He was oh so very proud...

So we all sat down to dinner...

And tortured the dog...

It was so very delicious!

Happy Easter!

"He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

 

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Traumatized...A Nursing Post

Recently I mentioned in a post about my recent daunting job interview that has been invading and occupying the back of my mind for the past two weeks.  (And if you count the weeks before it happened it would be more like a month!)  I have heard nothing.  Not even an acknowledgement that I interviewed at all.  Even though everyone tells me not to worry, that I've done the job before, that I'm excellently qualified; I can't help feeling that it's taking so long because I'm going to hear bad news.  And of course with any rejection comes questions of whether I should be doing what I'm doing.  I can't help it...it's just what naturally comes next in my mind.  The position is for a permenant charge nurse role.  A role I once had for about 6 years but had to leave about a year ago when I changed to night shift.

When I'm in the car driving to work, almost always I spend the time praying.  It's usually a similar prayer.  "Work through me, Lord, make be helpful and effective to my patients," or, "Give me the wisdom and endurance that I need to get through this shift."  But lately I often pray, "Lord, please don't give us more than we can handle tonight," which, when I think about it, is silly because He's already promised that He won't ever let that happen.  So, I guess my prayer is more like a reminder to myself, to muster my confidence.  He has always come through with that promise.

But the night before last, I had one of the worst nights of my nursing career.  It may go down as the 2nd worst of all time (the 1st of which I posted in my labor blog.)  I was the charge nurse working with, thank the Lord, some of the strongest nurses, staff, and docs on our team.  In the course of 12 hours, we had to call the police to remove a threatening family, we crash sectioned a patient who was 15 weeks too early because she was bleeding to death internally, we had to turn away ambulances because we had no beds, we had to section a woman with a BMI of 55 (obese is 30, people...not easy!), we did 3 c-sections and 4 other vaginal deliveries. 

You know it's not good when you have to stay late...after staying late...to write a police report. (And it's never good when you call security, and security has to call the police because even they can't deescalate the situation.)  I have to say in the midst of all that I said to God, "Lord! What about your promise?!"

If you asked me that morning, I would have opted out of that job.

I couldn't get the words those people said to me...the ones we had to remove by force...whose daughter was getting excellent care for a routine labor.  They used the word incompetent.  Incompetent?  Then I think of that woman with the baby in the NICU, and herself in the ICU. And her family was so grateful for everything we did.

Incompetent?  I've never been called that before.

Well, I know its not true, I'm quite competent.  And their daughter was well taken care of.  The mother in the NICU will be fine and the baby was doing better than expected.  And I realize that God did keep His promise.  We made it.  We even soared through it...even though it was a little traumatizing.  And I am better because of that night. I gained confidence, and experience, and grew in my faith.  It wasn't fun, but it was necessary...and ultimately a blessing.  (And honestly, it feels kind of good that God trusted me with it.)

Perhaps this post would be more appropriate on my labor blog, but for some reason I'd rather post it here.  I think because the audience for that blog has a little different "agenda."  My family and friends read THIS blog.  And sometimes it's hard to come home and talk about my work...so most of the time I don't.  Most of the time I need to leave work...at work.  That's probably why I haven't written in my labor blog for 9 months.  But for some reason...and I don't know why...I wanted to share it...and I wanted to share it here.  So thanks for reading.

The Power In Spring

Yesterday was a big day for me.  I had the most daunting job interview of my life.  It was for a job I already had for years, but I had to step down to accommodate some needs of my family.  Now the opportunity arose for me to get it back.  It was a job that I loved.  But I had to go through the interview process all over again.  I sat in front of 11 of my colleagues and answered some of the most difficult and drilling questions I've ever had to answer.  It was scary.  I'm still waiting to hear.

In all my nervousness and waiting for the time to go through the interview, I went through the worst anxiety that I've had in my adult life.  It was debilitating really.  So I took my iPhone outside and started taking pictures of all the things outside that made me smile.  All the little lovelies of spring that I have in my yard.  And the peace of God started to replace all the worries in my mind.  Here are some of the things I saw:

It's a beautiful spring this year in Colorado thanks to our incredibly unseasonably warm weather.  The flowering trees are spectacular...way too early!  But thank goodness they are.

In the first chapter of Max Lucado's book, He Chose The Nails, there is a poem that is very appropriate for what happened to me yesterday in my yard.  I think Max Lucado wrote it because there is no siting to show otherwise.  Here it is:

He splashed orange in the sunrise
and cast the sky in blue.
And if you love to see geese as they gather,
chances are you'll see that too.

Did have to make the squirrel's tail furry?
Was he obliged to make the birds sing?
And the funny way that chickens scurry
or the majesty of thunder when it rings?

Why give a flower fragrance? Why give food its taste?
Could it be
he loves to see
that look upon your face?

Yes, I'm sure my face reflected my awe at what God creates in my humble little yard.  And the same Power that makes all these things beautiful and thriving is the same Power that takes care of me.  I think I'll be OK.

Christmas from a Carol (a little late)



Advent Wreath

I know...Christmas was over like 3 weeks ago.  Well, I'm posting this anyway...just because I want to.  Actually, I need to.  I feel proud of the Christmas we had.  It wasn't the easiest...or the grandest...or the most present-filled, generously gifted Christmas--by no means.  In fact, we found ourselves extremely short of money this year.  So much that on some days preceeding it, I wondered how we were going to get presents under the tree at all.  In fact, this year everything was going wrong.  My pre-lit Christmas tree was no longer lighting...every bulb save about 15 or 20 was out; my Christmas music was stuck on a laptop which had a distroyed screen and I couldn't retrieve it or pay anyone to do it for me;  I lost my favorite Christmas Cookie Cookbook; and my small tree that we received as a gift, which we use as a sort of advent calendar, was broken.  I had no money to remedy any of these things, and my Christmas Spirit was waning.

What did it matter anyway?  I had to work both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  It was hopeless.

One day, I was watching the Martha Stewart Show, and she had as guests, a mens accapella choir singing traditional Christmas carols.  It was all quite festive with sparkling Christmas sweaters and trees on the set, allaborately decorated.  Everyone bubbling over with appropriate cheer.  Right in the middle of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" I spilled over into a grovelling tear fest.  I am ashamed.

I sat down and tried to figure out why in heaven's name was I crying?  What I came up with was that Christmas, to me, is a time when...well.... all is calm, all is bright.  And I wasn't feeling calm and bright.  I was feeling anxious and gloomy.

My husband always complains when I start playing Christmas music, sometimes as early as November 1st.  To him, Christmas is a time of stress and hassle.  To me, it's always been the most...well...wonderful time of the year.  My memories of Christmas were always some of the best memories I had as a child...and even coming home from college.  It was a time where everyone came away from their stressful lives and just stopped and we all had a chance to just be happy...and Christmas made everything OK...and even magical. My parents always made it feel that way.  If ever they were stressed because of Christmas, it was not shown to us in any light.  And I'm really grateful for that. 

And they taught us what we were celebrating...above all...the reason we did these things was because this was the time to celebrate the birth of our Lord.  And that was made very clear.

So, there I was, crying, listening to that choir end that carol and start to sing, "Here We Go A Wassailing" and came to this realization:  everything I went over in my mind of what Christmas meant to me...what feelings I remembered from growing up... none of them had anything to do with presents.  It was family, tradition, love, and...Jesus.  I was emphasizing the wrong things.  And my kids knew that too.

That day, I went to my cupboards and pulled out some old candles, took my wreath off my door, and put together a make-shift Advent Wreath.  I placed it on the very first surface one see's when entering our home, and that evening my kids and I sat down and they learned what it was.

Basically, if you don't already know (but a lot of Christians don't), its a wreath with 5 candles...four in a circle and one in the middle.  Often the circle includes 3 purple candles that represent Christ's royalty, and one pink candle that represents the celebration of his coming.  One candle is lit each week starting four weeks before Christmas with the pink on the last week.  On Christmas day the middle white candle is lit to signify that Christ has come.  Celebrate! (Click on the link below the picture of the Advent Wreath above to read a really good explanation of what Advent means.)

So with my mind re-directed, my husband supporting me, and my kids just being their sweet selves, we had Christmas.  I came home after working all night on Christmas morning and as soon as I walked in the house we started festivities.  The Christmas story was read and the Christ candle was lit.  And what do you know!  God provided money for some presents for the kids.  Here we are around the dimly-lit tree and the Advent Wreath.

Our bibles are open on the coffee table in the pic on the left and the advent wreath is in the corner in the pic on the right.  (Please excuse the very unbecoming picture of my dog.) Wait!  Hold up!  Is that?.....

Why yes it is! There's my boys touching each other in an actual "brotherly" way!  Rare.  Usually they're wrestling, pushing, or pinging the other in the face with a football.  Humph! 

So, we opened the presents...

 

That bottom right picture...that's the Cookie Monster hat my son has been asking for for two years now.  I never could bring myself to buy it but...he's so happy...never takes it off.  (I'm shaking my head in surrender.)



Then my dear husband made breakfast for us.  Yes!  I did say my HUSBAND MADE BREAKFAST on Christmas morning.  Set the table and all.  He even put little apple slices on the rims of our glasses filled with sparkleing apple juice.  That man is so sweet.  Then he sent me to bed and cleaned up all by himself too.  That's the kind of man he is.

When I got up, he had the table set again and served a very elegant ham and potato Christmas dinner before I had to leave for work.  Very impressive.  He even had pie and ice cream. 

Since I worked Christmas, but had New Years off, my parents came down on New Years Eve.



We had a great time with Grandpa and Grandma.  Grandpa even took my dog on a nice winter walk while Grandma played board games with the kids.  And we talked...

And talked....





And had coffee and my husband talked some more!  Just kidding dear husband!  Love to hear you talk!  In fact that was one of the things that first made me fall in love with you.

And I am humbled, and tired...and have learned that God teaches us at the time when we are ready to learn...sometimes that means we have to go through some low places.  And then those places end up being the most special.





Happy Easter!

I'm so grateful to my Jesus for what he did for me on the cross, and I praise Him that death could not keep Him in the grave. I am in awe that the same Jesus who overcame death is the same Jesus who helps me through my days.

"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
Phillipians 4:13

Happy Easter!

The Weight of Spring

There was a Robin in the yard today. Just like every year around this time I can count on my Robin friend to mark the moment that spring is officially upon us. So what does this mean? It means its time to start my seeds for my garden. It means I better clean up the yard. It means my kids will be home for the summer soon, so I better get prepared. It means Easter dresses, white shoes, grass stains, flip flops, and pastel-colored candy. It means lilacs, meadow larks, lawn chairs, evenings on the porch, and daylight at the kids’ bedtime.

It also means that I’m turning 36. I’m on the down slope of my 30’s, gaining momentum as I plummet into my 40’s. I’m overweight by an amount that I won’t disclose. My finances are…well…messy. And I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I find myself quite depressed on this happy spring day.

But God, speaking to me through a silly radio commercial, has reminded me of something. While I’m tempted to grovel in self pity and dread of the future, and pray demands at God for the things I think I need—and for the way I want things to be; I’m reminded that the only thing that matters at all is what God wants for me. It’s all about His plan for me…not mine. I need to get over myself. God did not put me on this planet just so that I could be happy. He put me here to carry out his purposes. If I’m living inside His plan, then life in all its abundance will happen. (Kind of like the way life comes out in all its abundance in the spring.)

So, I’m anxious to see what kind of “spring” God has in store (especially today when it’s a little harder to see.) I’m thankful for what I have. In times of hardship in the world around me I have a very stable job. My friends are dealing with troubled relationships and divorce, and I have a husband who loves me. I have three children who inspire me every day, and bring me more joy of life than I could ever have imagined before God gave them to me. And I have a great God that I have the privilege to serve.

Revelations of a Little Girl

Last night when I was putting the kids to bed, I had a very interesting conversation with Rachel. I was reminded of the simple logic of a 7-year-old's mind. This is how it went:

"Momma? Jesus lives in my heart, right?"
"Well, yes honey, He sure does."
"I don't feel him in there." she said as she put her little hand over her chest.
"No, honey, He doesn't live in the heart that pumps your blood...He lives in the heart that makes you who you are. You know the part of you that makes you special and different from everyone else. That's your soul, or your spirit."
I could see the wheels turning in her head.
"Well then how come when I go to sleep He makes me have bad dreams?"
"No, bad dreams don't come from Jesus, honey, they come from the devil...or when we let ourselves think bad thoughts." When I saw the wheels turning again, I went on, "Just pray to Jesus and ask him to help you think about things that are good, and to take away the bad dreams."

After we prayed together, I kissed her goodnight, and turned out her light. It struck me as I went on with my evening how great God is...that in all His might, and with all the things that He does even to hold together the Universe...that He is still concerned with a little girl's heart, and a little girl's dreams.