Dear Love,

Dear Love,

Happy two year anniversary! It feels like it's been the quickest and longest two years of our lives and I think you'll agree. That rainy morning on September 14, 2013 seems like decades ago, yet I'm still trying to get used to having bling on my left hand. 

Marrying you was and is the best decision of my life, not because it's been easy, but because you've helped shape me into a better person. Being united with you has really shown me what a sinner I am- how selfish, impatient, and unforgiving my heart really can be. Over the past two years my eyes have been opened to how much grace I really need every single day. 

You have seen me at my worst- crying over the kitchen sink over our most recent argument, and you have seen me at my best- relaxing on the beach during our cruise. And the amazing thing is, is that your love has stayed the same through it all. It has stayed steady, unwavering, and full of forgiveness and grace. 

Saying "I do" wearing that white dress meant that I was saying yes to it all. Yes to the struggles, yes to the fights, yes to the ugly. But it also meant that I was saying yes to the early morning cuddles, the thousand and one shared Sonic shakes, and the side cramp laughter late at night.  

You're my best friend and I can't imagine coming home to anyone else but you after a long 14 hour shift. I am so thankful that we got married at an age that is often frowned upon. Because we got married young, I am being forced to become a better person sooner in my life rather than later. I am learning to to be more selfless, more forgiving, and truly understand that my relationship with you is directly related to the strength of my spiritual walk with Jesus. 

It's been two years and I can't wait for the next fifty. I can't help but smile imagining our future homes, our future kids, and of course our future socially unacceptable dinner conversations. In the meantime, I'll enjoy our Youtube date nights, our hikes in beautiful Colorado, our bike rides that you still have to drag me on, and our unplanned trips to Costco just to walk around.

Thanks for being my supporter, my encourager, and my protector as I navigate this adult world and figure out how to be a better wife, daughter, sister, and friend. 

Love, 

Your wifey 

What I Learned When My Patient Fired Me

When I tell others that one time a patient fired me, I usually hear "I didn't even know you could fire your nurse!" Well, you can. It's not very common (at least at my hospital) and I wouldn't recommend it unless you're having a really hard time with your nurse. Sometimes people will ask for a new nurse immediately, and other people will wait until your shift is over and request to not have you again. 

The second situation is more common and is how I got fired. The particular night I got fired was an off night for me. I had just come back from having two weeks off, had a really busy patient assignment, and definitely missed a couple of things that I shouldn't have missed. I did my best to fix what I missed (both things were not a big deal and were fixed a couple hours later), and apologized several times to the mother for my mistake. I almost expected to be fired and, sure enough, when I arrived at work the next evening I learned that the mother had requested not to have me back. This was my first time getting fired (and hopefully my last!) but it taught me three important lessons I hope we all can learn from. 

We all need a little grace. 

Everyone makes mistakes and, though we all know this, it can be hard to remember when those mistakes are concerning you or someone you love. I am so thankful for the grace that Jesus extends to me, but for me extending grace to myself and to others can be a challenge. 

In this situation, I was struggling between learning to give myself a little grace and wishing that the mother had extended me a little bit of grace. Extending grace to others, especially when they hurt us, is so hard yet so necessary. I find that the closer we allow someone in, the harder it is to extend them grace when they hurt us. The next time you have to extend grace to someone around you, remember that should you be in the same situation one day, you would want the same kindness extended to you. We all need a little (or a lot) of grace sometimes; let's be a people willing to give that to each other. 

Learn to forgive yourself

I'm a typical oldest child- driven, type A, and a wanna be perfectionist. Accompanying those traits is the tendency to be really hard on myself. It's much easier for me to ask forgiveness from God or from those I've hurt than to forgive myself. Getting fired was the ultimate test in forgiving myself and letting the situation go. I was reminded in a very real way of my humanity and my inability to be perfect. The following days after getting fired, I learned a lot about the need to forgive myself and remembering that I'm only human. It is certainly easier said than done but there is sweet relief in releasing yourself from the perfectionist standard and forgiving yourself when you make mistakes. God doesn't expect me to be perfect- why do I expect that of myself? 

We can't always please people.

I'm a people pleaser to a fault, so getting fired affected me pretty deeply. I know that I'm a people pleaser and finding the balance between pleasing others but pleasing God first has been a constant challenge for me. I'm the type of person who wants people to like me and the thought of someone not liking me gives me a knots in my stomach. We (I) need to realize that Jesus never lived to please others, but He lived to please His Father. However, I think swinging the complete opposite way of people pleasing and saying "It doesn't matter what anyone thinks of me" can be damaging as well. 

In this situation, I had to realize that I had done my best and it was the mother's choice to fire me. Often I take the choices of others and blame myself when, in reality, it is their choice. If I took responsibility for everyone's choices, I would have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Jesus never intended me to take this burden upon myself, and I have to remind myself that others have free will and their decisions are not my responsibility. Choosing to take responsibility over my own actions and let go of the decisions that other people make about me is a huge step in getting over the crippling effect that people pleasing can have on me. 

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It's been about a month since I got fired, and I can say that I've forgiven myself and truly let it go. Now it serves as more of a funny story when I tell it in person. It took a couple weeks to get to the point where was able to let it go and not think about it every time I went into work. From that single situation I learned countless lessons on grace, forgiveness, and remembering that if I do my best, the rest is up to God. 

(Sharing on Modest Monday and Tuesday Talk)

Have you ever had a similar experience? What did it teach you? 

Lent: Why I Give Something Up

We are in this beautiful season of time called Lent. Lent is the (approximate) six week season that begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter Sunday. Tradition has it that it is a time to reflect and prepare for the the risen Jesus.

Last week, I shared how Ash Wednesday impacted me so deeply. I still have a lot to learn about Lent, but over the past few years I've come to a greater understanding of why it can help deepen our faith.

Perhaps the most common thing people associate with Lent is giving something up. In fact, "what you gave up for Lent" is becoming the hot conversation topic in church right after "where are we going to lunch". I think it's great that Lent is starting to get more attention, but the Sunday casualness of it leads to the loss of the meaning and understanding behind why we are giving something up. I thought I would share why I choose to give something up in hopes of creating a greater understanding of this practice.

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Traditionally speaking, the main components of Lent have been prayer, fasting, repentance, and acts of sacrifice. All these acts are intended to draw us out of ourselves and point us to Christ. 

Giving up something for Lent is seen as an act of sacrifice. However, this act of sacrifice cannot and should not be viewed as an act of self reliance and willpower. The danger in giving up something for Lent is it becomes all about us- what we are giving up and how well we are doing with our sacrifice. Instead, our framework of sacrifice should be complete and total surrender to the God who graciously grants our very breath. We surrender our own desires forcing us to rely upon God and not upon ourselves. 

Giving something up at Lent is a tangible reminder of my ultimate dependence on God. My sacrifice is a daily reminder that, without Him, I can do nothing, but through Him I can do everything. 

What I give up for Lent is something that I want to be difficult. Not so that I can prove to myself and the world that I'm so strong and self-controlled. I want it to be hard so that I have to rely on Jesus to carry me through. 

Giving up something for Lent is also seen as part of a fast that lasts the entire 40 days. There is Scripture upon Scripture that talks about fasting in the Bible, but Matthew 6:16-18 is the verse that first comes to mind for me: 

“And when you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you." (ESV)

First of all, fasting is not seen as an option in this verse. No translation says "If you fast...do this"- all translations say "when you fast...do this". This means that we are called to fast.

Second, when we fast, we are to do so quietly. I don't think there's anything wrong with sharing your fast with a few friends, especially for accountability purposes. But when Sunday morning comes and we are trying to out-fast each other by bragging about what things we're giving up for Lent, we're missing the point. Are you telling everyone that you're giving up coffee or Facebook to hear a "Woah, I'm impressed"? I know I've done it. Again, we're missing the point. A fast is done quietly because the Lord is really the only one that needs to know about it.

Third, fasting is intended to draw us closer to God. I want whatever I give up for Lent to be something that draws me closer to Jesus. A lack of something that draws you closer to Jesus may look completely different than what my lack of something looks like. I draw closer to Jesus by spending more time in His word and in prayer. Things that threaten this closeness are certain hobbies and habits that eat at my time- therefore what I often give up is an unnecessary hobby or habit that is taking up valuable time in my day.

I give up something for Lent so I can draw closer to Jesus. 

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If you are interested in giving something up for Lent (it's never too late!), I would first begin by encouraging you to pray about it. Pray that the Lord would bring to mind the things that distract you from Him. Think about how you draw closer to Jesus. What threatens that closeness? What is something that, when removed, would remind you daily of your dependence on God? What is something that, when removed, would give you the time and resources you need to draw closer to Him?

I find that when I pray about this, the answer is often brought clearly to mind. It's often an answer I don't want to hear, and an answer that I try to ignore for a little while. If you pray about something to give up during this season and God brings to mind something that would be challenging to sacrifice, I encourage you to go through with it. Often, the more difficult and personal the sacrifice is, the more reliance upon God we learn.

I hope and pray that you all are drawing near to Jesus in this season and every season of life.

Have you/are you giving up something for Lent? What are your thoughts on fasting and giving things up?

{Linking up with Oak + Oats & Sweet Little Ones Tuesday Talk}

Ash Wednesday: Broken & Grateful

I grew up in a family that observed Lent and viewed it as a very important season of the year. Though I've been taking part in Lent my whole life, it hasn't been until the past couple of years that I've really started to understand what the season is really all about. 

Lent is the (approximate) six week season that begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter Sunday. Tradition has it that it is a time to reflect and prepare for the the risen Jesus. The main components have been prayer, fasting, repentance, and acts of sacrifice. All acts that are intended to draw us out of ourselves and point us to Christ. 

Lent has become more widespread in many Christian circles, and dare I say it has almost become "trendy". I am so thankful that more people are becoming aware of Lent because I think it is a beautiful season that can teach us so much. But in the trendiness that has come with its' recent popularity, I think a lot of the meaning behind Lenten traditions has been lost. I would like to revisit a couple of those traditions by starting with an examination of Ash Wednesday.  

Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, and if you were to attend a traditional Ash Wednesday service, a priest or pastor would spread ashes in the shape of a cross on your forehead while saying the words "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." Certain Christian circles have criticized this tradition saying that we shouldn't wallow in our sinful nature; that we should instead focus on thanking God for his mercy and redemption. Critics argue that by focusing on the fact that we are dust, we are focusing too much on ourselves and not enough on Christ. I think this is a misconception that needs to be addressed.

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When they spread ashes on my forehead this past Ash Wednesday and repeated those words "remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return", I realized just how uncomfortable I was with that phrase. We don't like to be told that we are simply made of dust and will one day return to dust. We like to be told that we matter, that we are important, that we are filled with purpose. We are all of those things. But we are none of those things without Christ. Without Christ, we are dust; we are nothing; we can accomplish nothing. The raises we get, the awards we receive, the big house we own, and the Twitter followers we have will not ultimately matter. We all know this, but how many of us know this. 

It's an uncomfortable feeling. Believe me, I know. 

The cross emblazoned on my forehead reminded me that I am a sinner, a sinner that has deeply grieved God. Honestly, sometimes I think we forget this. We know we are sinners, but we often think about it flippantly "I'm a sinner God, but thanks for saving me!" By sitting with ash on my forehead and the thought that I am only dust, I realized just how much of a sinner I was. I came to understand that many of my thoughts, actions, and intentions deeply grieve the heart of my God.

My realization of my deeply sinful nature brought me to a place of  genuine repentance. 

I think it's hard to be truly repentant if you don't really recognize the extent or gravity of your sin.  I think it's hard to be truly repentant if you're apologizing to God while simultaneously thinking "well at least I don't do such and such". Often I don't think I realize the gravity of my own sin, because I am rationalizing it by thinking, "well at least I don't do that". It doesn't work that way. Sin is sin, and all breaks the heart of God whether it's gossiping about our friend or cheating on our spouse. But as I sat in the dimly lit church confessing my sins, I realized I wasn't to sit here here with ash on my forehead and wallow in pity or shame. Literally speaking, I couldn't sit and wallow because it was my turn to walk up and receive Communion. And as I stood up, it hit me. I finally understood. 

Here I was, stained with ash, marked as a grieved sinner, about to walk up and be welcomed into the presence of Almighty God. He knows the darkest places of my soul, yet still offers a feast of love, mercy, and grace. He sees the ash on my forehead, He sees my sin, yet He longs to wrap me in His arms and wash me clean.

Sitting with the feeling of nothingness allowed me to see that, yes, I am nothing but God is everything. God has been, is, and always will be everything. My ashen forehead had given me a glimpse of the extent of my sin, but Communion showed that the God of everything knows me, wants me, and cherishes me, despite the ashes on my forehead. What a gift! To know that the God of everything wants you... this understanding led me to a place of deep and genuine praise that I have never been before. 

Tears slipped down my face as I watched churchgoer after churchgoer marked by ash walk up and receive Communion. It was the most beautiful picture of redemption I have ever witnessed. Here we are- a people marked with sin, mistakes, and regret. And here is a God loves us SO much that He invites us over and over again to come into His presence so that He can wash us clean.

You may have heard this all before. It's easy to read words on a page and not let them touch your heart. But I encourage you to spend some time meditating on this today. We need not remember our sin to feel a sense of shame; instead, we remember our sin to lead us to gratitude for what God has done and who He is. 

Struggling with the fact that I am only dust, makes me all the more grateful for my Savior. My Savior who welcomes his broken daughter with open arms and puts her back together again and again and again. I choose not to wallow in my brokenness, but rather let the realization of my brokenness lead me to a place of gratitude and thanksgiving. I truly believe that we cannot effectively reach a place of deep gratitude without first recognizing the depravity of our own souls. 

"If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won't he leave the ninety nine others in the wilderness and search for the one that is lost until he finds it?" - Luke 15:4

You are that lost sheep. I am that lost sheep. But the Man went and searched for us, found us, and now we are part of the ninety nine. We were lost, but now we are found. The Good Shepherd has brought us, the wayward sinful sheep, home. And for that we are to praise His holy name.

What does Ash Wednesday mean to you? Did you grow up observing Lent? 

{Linking up with Tuesday Talk over at Sweet Little Ones Blog and Weeks End over at Oak + Oats}

5 Things I've Learned From Nursing... that you should know too

Nursing is a job that plops you intimately into people's lives. Often you enter in at very difficult and stressful times, presenting itself with difficulties as well as many opportunities to show compassion and love. Nursing has opened my eyes to so many things and, in some respects, has completely shifted the way I view the world. I thought I would share the five most valuable lessons that nursing has taught me because they're all lessons we need to learn.

1. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. 
I don't think I have found anything more true than this statement, and I think it's something we (myself included) easily forget. When I walk in a patient's room, what I see before me is a family- a child and their parents. The kid is being a kid; he watches cartoons to distract himself from the fact that he's in a hospital room. The parents make small talk with me about the weather and the food.

What I don't see until I open up that patient's chart is the fact that the cartoon-loving boy has fought seizures for ten years without much success. What I don't see is mom and dad struggling through an internal battle as they decide between the safe option or the risky one that may save their child's life.

We cannot see the pain that others face. That rude cashier at the store? She's taking care of her dying mother at home. That woman that just cut you off in traffic? She just found out her 8-year old has terminal cancer and has months to live.

I'm not excusing bad behavior, and it's no fun when people are downright mean. But next time someone irks you, remember that they are fighting a battle you know nothing about. Give them the grace that you hope to one day receive yourself if you were in their situation.

2. Asking someone if they are thinking about killing themselves may be the most important question you will ever ask. 
If there was one thing I learned from my mental health rotation in nursing school it's this: if you are concerned that someone is contemplating suicide, always find the courage to ask. 

My mental health professor told a story in which she had a gut feeling that one of her neighbors was contemplating suicide. My professor didn't know her that well, and was scared to ask the lady if she was thinking about killing herself... so she didn't ask. Less than 24 hours later, police found the neighbor dead, hanging in her closet. This happened 30 years ago- and my professor still can't tell the story without tears streaming down her face.

If you are concerned that someone is thinking about suicide, ASK THEM. It's scary, hard to do, and really uncomfortable. I know this, because I've had to ask it. And PLEASE for a second don't believe that by asking them, you will be giving them the idea of committing suicide. This common misconception couldn't be farther than the truth.

If you are concerned to the point that you are considering asking someone if they are thinking about killing themselves, there is almost 100% chance that the person you are going to ask has already thought about it. You will not be giving them the idea. Trust me, you won't. There are countless stories about people who didn't go through with their suicide plan because someone saw them, asked them about it, and got them help.

I firmly believe that if more of us were willing to ask this question and commit to getting our friends and family help, the number of suicides would drastically go down in America. Most of the time, people just want to be heard. Be that person who hears them.

3. We're all human. 
Medicine is a wonderful thing that is saving lives every day. But what people tend to forget is that doctors and nurses are humans too and we have the capability to make mistakes. We are trained to be careful, vigilant, and double check everything we do. Our mistakes hold more weight, and that's why we all hope and pray that we don't make one. But no matter how many double checks are done, mistakes happen. We feel awful when they happen, and some of us may never even forgive ourselves.

Realizing my own humanity means that I can more easily forgive others for their mistakes. I am not in any way excusing the mistakes I make, but I am grateful for those that show grace to me when I do make them. I try and turn around and show grace to those around me- whether it be a friend who unintentionally wrongs me, a restaurant that gets my order wrong, or someone that cuts me off in traffic.

4. The human spirit is resilient. 
If there is one thing that has wowed me over and over again in the field of nursing, it's the absolute resilience of the human spirit. I see families struck by tragedy come together and become better for it. I see parents with very sick children, turn around and be incredibly kind and patient to everyone around them.

What does this mean for you? It means that you need not fear. There is no need to fear tragedy, death, or pain because beauty always arises from these circumstances. Do we hope for such things to happen to us? Absolutely not. But do we fear the occurrence of such events? No, because if such thing were to happen us, we would be given the strength that we need to handle it. The human spirit is resilient, yours included.

5. Never ever judge a book by its' cover. 
I have seen the most normal of looking families be absolutely sour and rude to nurses, doctors, and everyone around them. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I've seen parents with green hair, 30 tattoos, and a dozen piercings come in and be the most delightful people to work with.

I am not in any way equating tattoos, piercings, and colored hair with bad parents or bad people for that matter. All I'm saying is that my first impression of a person is almost always wrong. I've learned this over and over in my job and I try and let this translate into my personal life.

You don't know a person until you sit down with them and hear about their life. You can't know a person until you spend some time with them. Let us be a people that assume the best of people, not the worst. Let us be a people that first inclines a listening ear instead of a turned up nose. 

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What lessons has your job taught you? If you're a nurse, what else would you add?