Change is in the Air....

Change. In the grand scheme of things change is a dependable occurrence. Whether the change is large, or small. Every day, every week, every year changes take place. Some changes are for the greater good, others are negative change. But change is unavoidable.

Right now I am looking ahead. I see a great and uncertain future, an enormous change that is going to take place in the not-too-distant future. For anyone who is unaware, this change I am referring to, is my 8 month jaunt to Guyana, South America.

For the past 5 years I have been desiring, planning, and looking forward to working in South America. More recently, in the past 6 months, I have felt the still, small whisper leading me more specifically to Guyana.

My journey will begin in September of this year. My activities while I am there will include teaching health classes, medical work, and of course outreach. I will be there from September until next June. After that....well at this point I have no idea! But I am inclined to think that its better that way; after all, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise that God has for me around the next corner =)

Stay tuned for more in this up-and-coming new chapter in this book called life...

Priorities

Have you ever sat down and contemplated just what your priorities are in life. Priorities are something I've really been considering lately. Of course we all say that our top priority is God, after all, isn't that what we are expected to say and to think? But if we take the time to stop and look at our lives - really look at what is taking priority in reality and not just in talk - could we still say in all honesty that God is in fact our highest priority?

Here's something that I recently read that really made me think about my priorities, and whether they are simply spoken, or are put into practice. These words were penned by a young Christian pastor in Zimbabwe and were found in his office shortly after he was martyred for his faith:

"I am part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit's power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made-I'm a disciple of HIS. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, nor be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure.

I'm finished with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap living and dwarfed goals. I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits nor popularity. I don't have to be right, tops, recognized, praised, regarded nor rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer to Him and labor with His power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my guide always reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded nor delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the pool or popularity nor meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won't give up, shut up or let up until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, and preached up the cause of Jesus Christ. I must go 'til He comes, give 'til drop, preach 'til all know, and work 'til He stops me. And, when He comes to gather His own, He will have no problem recognizing me...my banner will be His!"

After reading this my whole way of thinking was challenged! I realize that it is altogether too easy to become caught up in the "rat race" that we call living. I don't want a mediocre life! I don't want a life revolving around acquiring things, being smart, and looking good. I don't want a life that consists of scrambling around madly six days a week, with only one day to take time to focus on my relationship with my Creator. Put plainly, I want what this pastor found! I want to live my life wholly, unashamedly, completely for Christ. I desire with all my heart to be able to say the words "I have stepped over the line...My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my guide always reliable, my mission clear."

I pray that my Heavenly Father will continue to challange my perspective, will continue to awaken longings for Home in my heart, and will continue to be my Faithful Guide. May I continue to be faithful and trusting!

~He who loves the coming of the Lord is not he who affirms it is far off, nor is it he who says it is near. It is he who, whether it be far or near, awaits it with sincere faith, steadfast hope, and fervent love~

Bare cupboards

Have you ever done something, and when you were finished realized a spiritual lesson was learned in the process?

I open my cupboards, only the bare basics of food items are on the shelves. Beans, dry pasta, a bottle of honey, a single box of cereal only half full, a bag with crumbs of chips in the bottom, seasonings, and a few other miscellaneous items meet my eyes. Its not that I don't like to cook, or that I am anorexic and I am on a starvation diet. No, the truth is I am busy, and I have a habit of eating at the hospital cafeteria at work, or a the little hanger cafe on the days I am at the airport.

Now the problem. In 3 days my Romanian 'sister' Oana is going to be staying with me for 4 days. I am quite certain that she will not find the choices in food very fulfilling or appetizing as meals. So a trip to the store is required.

As I traverse the isles I fill my cart with fruit, veggies, bread, milk, breakfast items and other types of foods that could be considered meals. Some of these things I haven't purchased in quite some time since I can never seem to consume them before they spoil. Then I return home and fill my formerly empty shelves with the items; not before I use some of them to prepare an actual home-cooked meal.

Is there a lesson in my ramblings I can hear you wondering...

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to become "too busy" to replenish the shelves in our hearts with spiritual food? Sure, if you were to look you might find some miscellaneous "food items," but not enough to make a meal. We may get a spiritual feast at church, but if we don't have our own food how are we going to share with others? I find that too many times my spiritual experience is like my experience today; my cupboards are too often allowed to become empty.

The 'staple foods' of our Christian experience are too important to go without! Intellectually I know that I desperately need to feed my soul with spiritual food. Its easy to remember to feed my stomach, because if I don't I am soon reminded by rumblings. But what I need more than anything is to hunger, truly hunger, for the Bread of Life! To realize that I cannot live without it. Work and life are no excuse to neglect this. After all, my vocation should not be my consuming drive, it should simply be the means to enable me to preach and live Christ. But if I don't take the time to feed on the Bread of Life what will I have that is really worth sharing? Absolutly nothing!

Another World

Grey clouds hang low in the sky, rain pelts the windows, streaming to the ground to join the puddles of water already forming. In the distance are mountains, their tops hidden from view by the all-pervasive gloom of the clouds. Although it is only noon the atmosphere outside appears dark, drab, colorless.

Then, I am moving. Rolling down the runway, picking up more speed by the second. The signs, and markings blur by, now appearing nonsensical. A sudden lurch and I am airborne, gaining altitude and watching as the objects below grow smaller. Then only a white blur out the windows, and I am surrounded by clouds.

As I peer out the window it seems that I am in another world, my perception altered by an endless white. Wisps of clouds blow by the window. The clouds that seemed to be one enormous mass from the ground now appear in different hues of grey and white, their shapes ever changing, as I soar through their grey moisture.

As suddenly as I entered, I break through the clouds and am welcomed by the golden rays of the sun. As I continue to climb the clouds below me appear to be a solid pillow of white, pristine and soft. Almost creating the illusion that I could open the door and step out onto their billowing tips. Above the sky is a deep blue from horizon to horizon appearing to melt into the pure white of the clouds.

Then the clouds are broken by the tips of a mountain, the rugged brown with snow capped peaks, contrasted against wisps of the familiar clouds. As I fly over the mountain top I see a hidden lake, the color of deep emerald, sparkling in the sun. Pine trees reach with their snow covered branches toward the sun shining above the blanket of clouds below.

Here I am, lost in another world. The freedom is inexpressible, and the dissimilarity from the world of gravity below is incomparable. I can see for miles ahead, more snow-capped mountain peaks reaching through the blanket of clouds, more emerald and sapphire lakes hidden in solitude from the world below; the total absence of busy-ness, rushing, civilization, traffic, and chaos. Is it any wonder that I love to fly?

"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." - Leonardo da Vinci

At any Cost

The emerald forest beckoned Him
Birds sang their songs of delight
The brook's whisper echoed softly
The sun shone its warm rays of light

The beauty of all His creation
Called Him to join in their song
But something now was missing
Making all these joys seem wrong

The crown of all this splendor
Formed lovingly with Gods own hands
Had been banished from this garden
Having given into the Serpents demands

The Heart of hearts was breaking
Tears streamed down His tender face
Man, who had been created for love
Was now missing from this place

But this love would not let go
Reaching down through the centuries of time
A way must be made by Someone
To change a sinful heart like mine

Gone now was the splendor of Eden
Rugged deserts and mountains instead
Gone too was the truth of Gods love for us
Replaced with lies, fear and dread

But the Love that passes all understanding
Refused to abandon us there
The Son of God left His eternal glory
Coming down to a planet dark and bare

Those sinless feet our soil walked
Revealing the truth about God
His life, His work, His only mission
To show the unending depths of Gods love

Then the day came for which He was born
He was mocked beaten and tortured for me
But all this was nothing when compared
To the separation He felt on that tree

As He looked He could not see passed the grave
Could not see the glory awaiting
He hung, suspended, between heaven and earth
Thinking eternal separation was approaching

The words repeated were "Save yourself!"
If you're really Gods Son come down
But He couldn't save His own life
And still purchase for me a crown

When choosing between His life and mine
He weighed the benefit against the loss
Even if it meant He might lose His place
He would save me no matter the cost

~Lizabeth

One So Young

0919 - "Rapid response, resus room, 5 minutes, pediatric."

And with that the previously relaxed atmosphere of that Sunday morning was over.

Almost before the announcement is finished the team is halfway to the resusitation room; the glaringly lit, cold room with two stretchers where we fight with death, sometimes sucessfully, and others not. Things must be prepared for the arrival of an unknown child. Machines whir into calibration, monitors are switched on, equipment is placed within reach, medication trays are opened, and the team rushes to preassigned positions. Nurses, a respiratory therapist, several ER techs, and x-ray techs all scrambling to their posts to prepare. The ER doc makes his way down to the room as well.

0927

"They're here!"

The doors at the end of the hall swing open.

"Looks bad, they're moving fast!" A voice calls out to no one in particular.

We all know what that means. You get an early gauge on the prognosis of an injured person coming at you by the body language of the paramedics. The crew rushes toward us, two of them guiding the gourney, and two more hunched over their burden on either side, one manually compressing the chest up and down to curculate blood, the other administering live-giving oxygen. The only sound heard is the thud of their feet, almost running, and the scattered beep of the monitor as the artificial compressions being administered mimic the activity that the heart should be producing. They've almost reached us now, soon it will be our turn to grasp the baton and finish the race. We will either win, or lose.

They rush through the door. A small boy lies lifeless on the gourney, almost lost among the machines and tubes. We all strain to see; visualize what we're up against. Curly blonde hair lies wet against his pale blue face, eyes closed, mouth open with a breathing tube placed into his windpipe. Arms that should be alive with activity, lie limp at his sides.

The paramedics push the gourney up alongeide the ER stretcher. Four sets of hands grasp the sheet under the boy.

"One, two, three-lift"

He is now in our hands. Untangle the tubes and wires. Disconnect from the portable monitor and reconnect to our life-support monitors.

The thought in everyone's mind is "Do something!"

Paramedics and firefighters who brought the boy in stand helplessly to one side against the back wall. One struggles to be heard above the machines and movement to give a brief report.

3-years-old....found floating in a pool....unknown how long...unresponsive on the scene...no pulse....not breathing...

We begin the last leg of the race, our leg, still not sure of the final outcome, each trying to conceal their own private misgivings: that there may already be answer to the question that everyone is asking themselves.

"What are our vital signs?" The doc yells out. Numbers are what sanitize a medical professional, they allow the medical emergency to addressed objectively rather than subjectivly. Cardiac arrest can be treated more effectivly than this precious little boy's cardiac arrest. We must treat the symptoms, detach ourselves from the person lying beneath out hands, until we know the outcome and can begin to let out hearts feel.

We look at the arithmetic, heart rate, blood pressure, respirations. Spontanious respirations: none, movement: none, heartbeat: none, palpable pulses:none. Already the outcome looks grim. We have come so far in the medical profession, yet still there are times when we are forced to admit defeat. We will do all within our power for him-relying on breakthroughs in medical knowlegde, science, and protocols-then either it's in him, or it isn't.

On the left someone is compressing his small chest, up-and-down -already his rib cage is slightly sunken from the pressure-trying to stir his lifeless heart to beating.

At the head of the table life-giving oxygen is pumped into his lungs, supplying his brain and heart in the hopes that the damage that we all know has occured will be stopped, and if possible somewhat reversed.

New IV lines are started to deliver the "rounds" of drugs in the hopes of reaching his still heart. Medications are drawn into syringes, then handed to another who will deliver them through the IVs in an attempt to charge his empty circut and spur it back into action. In another moment support will be withheld to determine the effects of our efforts; to see if he still has it in him to somehow pull back out.

"Hold resuscitation-"

Everyone freezes-suspended for a moment in time-everyone with eyes fixed on the monitors. Nothing. Not even the smallest blip across the screen, no beep heard, lifeless.

"Continue efforts."

The cycle begins again. Compression, veintilation, then another round of medications.

"Hold resuscitation."

Again all eyes watch the screen. Still nothing.

We begin again, this time the dose of adrenaline is increased, trying to reach his still heart and jolt it into activity. Compressions. We stop again. Still nothing. We are still nowhere.

1009

For nearly an hour we have been fighting. Fighting hard to bring this precious life back; this little blond-haired boy, who has barely begun to live. No one wants to admit defeat. To admit that despite all our efforts we must relinquish him to death. And his family is on the way here.

Blood tests have long since comfirmed what we all suspected to be true from the start- his system was shut down far too long. After 5 rounds of drugs there is still no sign of a heart beat, or gasp of breath. As we pause yet again from our efforts the monitor again traces the all too familiar horizontal line.

Resignation sets in silently- individually, collectively- there will be no resuscitation here.

But the question nags us. When. When do we let go. How long should we keep running this race despite knowing the outcome? What if in five minutes, in ten minutes something miraculous takes place? What if we keep pushing a little bit longer, and his small heart begins to pump its warm, red blood again?

Everything we have been taught. All of our knowledge says we have fought long and hard, and done all we can. Yet we are his advocates. Where do we draw the line?

Finally after more minutes pass, still without result, a voice is heard. Coming from the head of the table, the doctor says, more quietly than his previous orders:

"Does anyone have any suggestions that we may not have tried before we terminate efforts?"

The silence is deafening. No voice is heard. We try to avoid making eye contact with our co-workers. Each person rebeling against the idea of this outcome, yet knowing that we have done all we could do, and lost. The next words stab deep:

"Time of death 1021"

And with that the formal pronouncement of death is made. Legally, it is the moment when a licensed physician deems it futile to attempt any further physiological resuscitation. Yet it is merely a speck on the continuum of time, a speck that most will never know of.

Eyes stare at the monitors, daring that hauntingly familiar green line to tell us why. For a moment we are silent. Now the parts that we objectivly isolated to deal with seperatly, are converged back into the whole. When we reach this point no one looks at each other. We all try to steal our minds away. Yet the face of a brother, friend, nephew, son surfaces in our minds, what if this was them?

Then each member disperses. Monitors are put away, trash is cleaned off the floor, and tubes are removed so that the family members can have time to grieve with their loved-one.

Each person privatizes their own experience. Some have to take a moment to themselves. Many will call their own loved-ones, just to hear their voice, just to check. Others deal with their emotions by unleashing them on a task; restocking, paperwork-any kind of organized, directed activity that might make sense.

Then we must inevitably face the world again.

Yet as your mind replays the events, you can't help but see things in a new light. As people complain about the long wait to see a doctor you want to tell them "At least you are alive to wait!" As you look into the eyes of your patient who is here because she attempted to take her own life, as you listen to her words "why didn't you just let me do it?" You want to shake her and tell her "We fought hard, and long to try and save that young innocent life, a life that his family would give everything to get back! And now you are making us fight to keep you from ending your life?!"

If only others could see from a perspective so much bigger than the version of events that they call "reality" they might be suprised to see just how small their picture of life really is.

~Its the 9:00 nightly news. The newscastor tells a 20 second story about a drowning that took place earilier today. A 3-year-old little boy fell into a pool when nobody was looking. Then its on to sports....~

One year later

It's amazing what a difference a year can make. It's amazing how fast a year can fly by, how many memories can be packed into a year, and how much one can learn in the course of a year.

This time last year I was living in Oklahoma, it was freezing cold, ice and snow on the ground and trees; now here I sit on sunny Phoenix wearing short sleeves and enjoying the mild weather. This time last year I had not yet embarked upon the endless frontiers of learning and experiences as an RN; now I have spent a year working in the ER, with many new experiences under my proverbial belt.

In one year I have seen my first baby die, but I know it won't be the last. I have seen more crazy people in a single 365 day period that I had ever seen in my entire 20 years up to this point. I have learned what it means to go through an entire 12 hour shift with no time to eat, sit, or even pee. I have learned what it means to fight with death and prevail, but also know the feeling of losing that battle. I have struggled with the unfairness of life, but also rejoiced with happy endings. This year I have landed a plane by myself for the first time, learned to scuba dive, and bought my first set of furniture.

This year has been a year of change. I know that this time next year I will be somewhere else, learning new things, and with another list of "firsts." That is the process of life. You live, always learn, and hopefully grow.

Each person is given an identical amount of time. 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, and 365 days in a year. How will you use it?

This time next year I have no idea where I will be. I don't know what I will have learned, what new experiences I will have to tell about, or if I will even be around to tell about them. We are not promised tomorrow, next week, next year. I have today, this moment, this hour. How am I going to spend it?

That is the choice I have. God has a plan for me this year, He has a plan for you this year as well. The plan He has for me is different than the one He has for you. My plan is tailor made to fit my personality, my experience, my talents, and the areas I need to grow; yours is made to fit you. The plans, and experiences He has are the best possible plans for my life and yours. But...there is always a but. I have a choice, as do you. Am I going to follow the path He has set before me? Or will I choose my own path, my own way.

This time next year, the answer to that question will be evident. I pray that I will "press toward the mark, of the high calling of God in Jesus Christ." As this next chapter is written may you and I not be the ones holding the pens in our hands, writing the story, but may the pens scripting out the stories of our lives be in the hands that have nail scars.