perspective

Remember building the best fort ever?

And then how the dog charged through the living room and across the pillow and how the blanket slid out from the stack of books holding it down, and how the whole thing fell apart, but also how this broken down mess was what got you outside, out to that wide field where you found some jacked-up old wood and a random shoe, and then how you found yourself starting again, building something altogether new.

How you sat there with dirt under your finger nails, digging away.

And how the sun was setting and you looked up to see a new view emerging from across the wide field and over the lake.

A world that was waiting for you, but which you wouldn’t have seen if the dog hadn’t charged through the living room.

- Sabrina Ward Harrison

I thought about this little story tonight as a group of us talked at home community. It's such a quick story but the message to me is massive and hopeful. Things in life may not turn out exactly how I plan or hope but often times what comes after the collapse of one plan is something new and beautiful and different and good. I hope I always have the eyes to see that new view and the goodness that can be born out of loss.

Ordinary Inbetween

"It's not the big things, but the ordinary in between and maybe this is not the time at all to be waiting for any better reason to be glad that I'm alive at all." -Late Tuesday

For what it's worth, I feel like I've always had an appreciation of the little things. I find joy in the little things. Among these little things are hand written letters, a favorite song on the radio, a familiar voice on the phone, watching coffee pour from the french press, the way the sun sets warmly over the trees and hills, and laughter at any age. I think when I encounter something so small yet so lovely, my heart tells me to stop and acknowledge what is right in front of me. I've learned to make time for these moments in my day and if I don't, I keep going about my day feeling like I missed out. If I see the sun pouring through the window in a certain way and happen to have my camera, but move on without taking the picture, I bum myself out. If I pass a sweet chalk drawing on the sidewalk and just walk by without looking to see what it was, I'll wish I had.

The more I stop for these moments, because they really are just moments, the more joy I find in life. I have a ball tromping through the leaves, taking pictures of things that make me smile, swinging in the park, and just enjoying life in general. It's been fun to bring my camera with me out and about. I've always loved taking pictures, but for years, I was that girl that would always have my camera with me and never use it. It's amazing the difference it makes when I actually use it. Who would have thought? Just having my camera with me makes me look at the world different. I look at everything or everyone as the possibility of a great shot. I look around more. In Seattle, I used to walk twenty or thirty minutes to school with my ipod in and just making sure I wasn't going to trip and hardly making time for random conversation, which has every possibility of being hilarious and a good story later by the way :) I would hardly engage with people I passed on the street. Window face was as far as I got, haha. Now, I look at the world different and look around more, engage more. The more I actually see, the more beauty I find in the people and places I go. I find joy in the ordinary in between and I like that, because life is beautiful in the most extraordinarily ordinary ways.

"I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things...I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind." -Leo Buscaglia

Love note on a love bug?

No one can resist the swings

I can't resist the swings, either.

To the unknown..

The Story

I cannot tell you how much I love hearing people’s stories, hearing where they come from, what their world looked like and felt like growing up, and learning about little and big experiences that have shaped who they have become.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
-Brandi Carlile

I truly love it. I could listen to people tell stories all day. It’s such a privilege to glimpse into that part of someone; especially since a lot of life stuff doesn’t come up in daily conversation or maybe it’s too long of a story or too dark of a story to share. Every other week at our home community through Imago Dei Community, one or two people will share their life story, their testimony with everyone in our community, as a way to go deeper with each other and to see how God has shown up in the midst of the joy and the pain. I just love the image of a group of believers sitting in a room with the sole intent of knowing each other and knowing God more. To sit in the presence of another person’s life story, all the beauty, messiness, brokenness, and soul-I just eat it up.

What I love most is that I believe in each of our stories, we recognize pieces of ourselves in each other. We recognize ourselves in the experiences of others, the feelings of others, and the brokenness of others. One of my favorite Over the Rhine lyrics is "pain is our mother, she helps us recognize each other". Our stories connect us in ways that we might never have imagined. I’ve seen how the sharing of stories in our home community has encouraged more boldness, realness and an uncovering of what has been kept hidden and how in this sharing people are growing and learning; learning that they are not alone and they never have been, alone. I have been getting goose bumps a lot lately and surprisingly, not because I am cold. When I hear something incredible or see how certain life pieces just fit in my own life and in the lives of others, it’s as if my body is telling me to

stop.

Take notice of this.

And so I do.

And in that moment of recognition, my faith deepens as I remember that our lives are only a small part of a much greater story being crafted and I know the one who created it all and He is good.

My dear friend Courtney posted this as a facebook status and I’ve been marinating on it all week.

He said, "Why don't you spend your day floating down this river with me?" and I said, "Well that would be GREAT, but do you know where it goes?" and He said, "Yeah I know the way....I created it."

what's next..? enjoy today..

It’s a bit surreal, the whole being done with school. Of course everyone’s question is “…what next?!” ha. If only I knew... That was the easy part when I graduated from the U of W; I knew I wanted to go into social work and so I could forecast grad school in the future and it was great to be able to tell people my plan. Oh, and my parents are all about “the plan”…everyone must have a plan and not just one plan, but two or three as back-ups. I’ve tried to function around plans, I have, but that’s just not how I roll. My plans consist of not having a plan.

I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl and I kind of like that.

So…with that being said…here I am, graduated and done. At the moment, I am content in taking some much needed down time; to hang out with friends, to take walks, to tote my camera around, to ride my bike, to sleep-It’s been wonderful.

I’ve been mulling some thoughts around to write about but that will come later I guess. I thought I’d throw in some pictures of my last week or so since I’ve been taking my camera with me everywhere.

After graduation = happiness

my favorite ladies and boys came down to ptown!

Fro Yo..or frozen yogurt with good peeps

when I have time to look around on my walks through the neighborhood, i see the coolest things, yeah positive propaganda!

found these cute little birdies on my friend leisha's houseboat in Scapoose, OR

the houseboat. i could so live here.

perfect Sunday afternoon.

forever a cheese.

there was fishing, but not by me

seriously, water feeds my soul.

the new bike, isn't she pretty in that golden sun?


I've been exploring Portland, via bike and loving it!

i pretty much love trains, tracks, sun and portland

shadow trees

my absolute favorite time of day


the view from a bike is the best


this makes me feel like i live out in the country, i like that.

i was born to explore. i'm a happy girl

counting down..

I am counting down…some have been counting down since we began the social work program two years ago. Others began counting down this year. I have held off, until now. This whole crazy time of theories and research and clients and service has whirled into this point of ending, of launching, of flying.

I am 17 days from graduation.
1 more grief support group
1 more big and dreadful research paper
1 lovely bite sized self-care paper
4 classes
3 more internship days
It’s all winding and whirling down…

As I always do with endings, I start thinking about them in step with beginnings. For better or worse, the second something begins, my mind fast-forwards to the inevitable ending. In some scenarios this may be considered healthy, while it others this may just be cynical. Anyhow, I can’t help it. I have been thinking about this ending for two years, anticipating graduation and walking away with an MSW, with a whole world of social work at my feet. And I still look to that world as it waits just a couple weeks out, but I hold hints of sadness at what I am leaving behind; the community, the breadth of knowledge all around me, and the support of professors and supervisors encouraging me, the whole womb of safety that is school. In all my transitional times of coming and going, of hellos and goodbyes, I find myself more and more aware of the simultaneous feeling of both joy and sorrow. I’ve come to acknowledge that there will always be both. There will always be something to rejoice and squeal for in excitement and always something to grieve and weep over, always life and always death. This is what makes life interesting and worth living.

26, I've decided you're going to be awesome.

I love birthdays. I don’t so much like being the center of attention, like during the singing, gah, the singing. A whole song’s worth of people singing and staring at you-awkward. But I do love the day. I always try and see as many of my favorite people as possible. When I worked at Richmond Beach Coffee Co. I always wanted to work on my birthday. People thought that was crazy, wouldn’t you want a day off?? Not so much. I loved all the people that came it and it just wouldn’t feel right to celebrate without them. They were that much a part of my day and life. Plus, when you work with your best friends, when a birthday comes around they can plan ridiculous stuff. Like when little old Ruth brought me the sweetest card. Richard brought flowers from his neighbor’s garden, haha. Kevin brought a cake at 6am. Ron brought balloons that sing opera…I know right?! Crazy inventions these days. I love getting to see the people who make up my world, a great way to end a year and start another. Birthdays remind me of how faithful God is and how he’s brought me through various trials and chapters of life and I can be thankful for the incredible people He’s placed in my life.

I had such a wonderful birthday filled with both family and friends-new and old. The sun was shining gloriously. I took my little Korean cousin out for coffee and toast at Blackbird Bakery, no better way to start a morning on Bainbridge Island. I went to Safeco with seven of my closest friends. I watched the Ms beat the Red Sox, yeah! We ate ice-cream on the Seattle Waterfront. I was serenaded by my Dragonfly Coffee House girls at 6:50am. I was reunited with old friends at UPC. I was honored to speak at the 7 o’clock service about my time in Malawi and since then and I didn’t even faint. It was a perfect day and I was surrounded by people I love, and you can’t ask for a better birthday present than that. They refresh me.

So hello 26. I’ve decided you’re going to be awesome. I had my doubts. I have always thought less of even numbered years. Call it a weird quirk, but I just don’t seem to be a fan of even years, 20? Meh. 22? So much change. 24? Well, that one wasn’t so bad. I just always feel better about odd numbered years. I envision them to be more adventurous, more edgy. I realize I am sounding like a complete goober right now, so I will move on…So even with initial dislike of 26 for it’s even numbered-ness, I feel good about turning 26 and I’ve decided it’s going to be amazing. I mean, I’m graduating, graduating. With my Masters in Social Work, whaaaaat? I will officially enter the world of professionals who have important letters following their names, MSW here I come. This will be one of the first things I do as 26 year-old-receive my long awaited degree-pretty freakin’ awesome.

I’m ready to say goodbye to 25, which was a rich year in both joy and heartache. It added a few more aches in my joints, a few more laugh lines, and hopefully all my experiences will distill into precious wisdom in the coming years. It was a good year, but challenging in so many ways and I am overjoyed to pack this year up and tuck it away. I’m ready for a new year with new pages to be written and cheesy pictures to be taken and a road to be travelled. I like where I’m at. I love Portland. I love all the people I’ve met in Portland and though I couldn’t tell you what life will look like in a month, I could tell you that with nothing less than absolute hope and expectation that I’m rolling on to something good.

my, my, my, it's a beautiful world.

Today has been a good day, a good sunshiney day ;)
I love days like this.
When I can go for a run, and keep running past the point where I usually turn around.
When I feel refreshed and energized instead of sleepy after waking up earlier than all normal people.
When I meet a kindred spirit.
When upbeat tunes give me what I need to finally put away all my laundry and clean my apartment.
When I can wear a dress without hauling around a sweater, just in case…
When I can walk through my neighborhood with a big ole grin, and watch it spread to others.
When I can look up through the trees and see the sunshine cascading through.
When I can drink my iced americano and read through a chewy book about the soul and the human spirit.
When I can watch the little leaves fall from trees like flower petals, but with a special helicopter-like twist.
When I read the exclamation of love etched in the sidewalk “love is us” or walk by the blue Jetta with a rose and a card under the windshield wipers.
When the old man playing the accordion in Jamison Park changes his melody to a happier one as I walk by.
When I read lines like, “I may not have the skills of a world-class musician, but I have the soul of one.”
When I realize that everything beautiful in creation was made from love and for love.
When I can hear the kids splashing in the fountain as they live their adventurous make believe worlds of play.
When a little baby, learning to walk, stops for a second and smiles at me, as he can hardly believe he is the mover of his own body.
When the playlist on my ipod seems to play just the perfect soundtrack for my afternoon stroll.
When I pass customers of the dragonfly waving hello on my walk home.
When I come home to a warm apartment filled with the setting sun.
When there is no doubt in my mind that we are so fully LOVED.
I’m grateful for days like this.

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world.

transitions

My days of calling myself a student are quickly falling away. I have always been a student, even in my two year hiatus; I still called myself a student because I had a sneaking suspicion that I would pursue a master’s degree soon. Now as I enter into the final six weeks, I’m ready to shed my student’s skin. It’s difficult to think about giving up that title, when I’ve held tightly to it for so long. Though, I will soon hold claim to the title of social worker, I still feel that sliver of loss in parting ways with the life I’ve known all these years.

I think it was Mr. Rogers that said it best,

"Transitions are almost always signs of growth, but they can bring feelings of loss. To get somewhere new, we may have to leave somewhere else behind."

That being said, I’m ready to transition to a career of doing what I love, but I’m not sure I’m ready to transition to a new place. People keep asking me if I am going to stay in Portland or move back to Seattle. As much as I ache for my people in Seattle, I’m not quite done with Portland yet. I haven’t gotten my fill. I just have that deep gut feeling that God has more in store for me here and that’s enough assurance for me that this city is where I am meant to be.

it's a new day

I’m thinking about loss today. It’s kind of my job to think about and talk about loss with people all day. I love listening to people’s stories about life and love and loss. That may sound like a strange thing to love as they are often heartbreaking stories to hear, but I find there is always so much joy and so many blessings. I get to listen and seek out these pearls they have said and re-tell it for them so they can re-experience that person or memory as a blessing. It’s a privilege to be a little piece in someone’s healing process.

Occasionally, loss will creep its way into my own life. I’ve experienced loss in many forms and I am by no means immune to its sting. It’s never been easy for me to say goodbye to people or places or things...haha…NOUNS. I have a hard time saying goodbye to nouns. Oh boy, I really make myself laugh sometimes.
So as I walk through yet another loss…I am surprisingly hopeful and feeling good. In all my experience with loss, there is always the opportunity to learn and grow. I feel that I am both learning and growing. Ultimately, I am resting in a plan far greater than my own in breathless expectation.

“…and it just might be the prettiest thing that you’ve ever seen, it’s a new day. Baby, it’s a new day.”

Thinkin' bout the city

"I'm thinkin' bout the city, and how it's living proof people need to be together" -Ben Lee

I feel like I haven’t written anything in a while. My mind must have needed a break after the intense paper writing that signified the end of Winter quarter…New York was fabulous. I didn’t see big touristy sights such as the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building or the Met, but I did experience the feel of the city. I’ve never been one for guidebooks or plans anyway; I’ve always been a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl, letting the day unfold naturally. I walked the streets of the upper West side, East side, the village, Times Square, Brooklyn, Central Park, Midtown, Harlem, and the Bronx. I saw the buildings, fashion and skin color change from neighborhood to neighborhood. The personality of each neighborhood differs from the one before. I enjoyed acquainting myself with these new places.

However, acquaintanceship is enough for me. I don’t have the intensity and endurance to live in a city like New York. Being the introvert that I am, the thousands of people everywhere I look or turn made me completely claustrophobic and longing for my quiet Portland neighborhood. I still can’t get over the sheer number of people that live in the city, the packed streets couldn’t contain the crowds and many walked in the street side by side with the cabs and tour buses. And still there were thousands and millions more inside the hundred floor buildings in their tiny apartments and office spaces. My mind could hardly fathom so many people in one place.

Though, I wish I could have taken Central Park with me. I loved walking through the park, all crisp and sunny-like, brimming with charm and culture. So many people moving: running, biking and roller-blading, couples hand-in-hand taking a Sunday stroll, tourists from all over with their wide angle zoom lenses snapping artsy shots, the jazz band playing in the street and the guy dancing in front them in roller-skates, the smell of cotton candy and sound of horse carriages. I loved it all.

Here are a few pictures I snapped along the way with my non artsy zoom lens camera, but alas, they will have to suffice.

Central Park transportation

Sara always falls asleep on the subway, haha!

Times Square

John Lennon Memorial

Vendors outside the Met


Upper West side

Shadow Trees

"Presented to the city of New York and its music lovers"

Riverside park

The Poet's Walk, Central Park


Frozen hot chocolate, Serendipity

Shadow walks

Under subway tracks

Riverside Park
The Met

Outside Sara's apt

New York State of Mind...

hello from the other side of the country! I am having a blast already. There is so much culture in this city and I'm already in love. It's refreshing. This city has so much character and charm; it's swept me off my feet in less than 24 hours. I could people watch all day and just take in the sights, the smells, the sounds...the man roasting nuts on the sidewalk, the man speaking about the love of Jesus on the corner, the sidewalk vendors selling everything you can think of, a boutique plant shop next to an African American hair salon, the thousands of people on the sidewalks after work in Time Square. It captivates me. I feel like I'm in another country. 

I'm proud of my navigation skills. I owe most if not all of this to my friend Sara's directions, but even with directions, I tend to get lost...I think I get so interested and swept up in everything and everyone around me that I completely lose track of where I am. But I found my way, through the streets of Harlem, along the subway (going the right direction) and then through the Bronx to Sara's school where she teaches. I get to watch her teach and it's so awesome. She is so good at what she does. She has a way with these kids that is so special. She gets them. She gets them learning and motivated to learn. Not every kid; it seems in every class, there is at least one student that remains checked out despite attempts to engage them. She teaches 11th grade math and at the end of the last class, she had the entire class up out of their seats, singing  and even dancing to a song to remember the quadratic equation to the tune of a Macy Gray song. I must say it's stuck in my head now, too. Throughout the day, I've heard kids in the halls singing this song; I love that. I love that Sara teaches here. She is made for this work. To quote Frederick Buechner as I do all too often, "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep joy and the world's deep need meet." 

There is so much going on, I feel as though my Portland pace and way of life gets lost in the wind. I also feel like I stick out like a sore thumb, as I am the only one looking at everything, looking people in the eye, smiling, looking both ways when I cross the street, wearing "northwest" attire (i brought as many nice clothes as i could, but it's rainy today-and the northwest knows rainy attire). 

All in all, I'm having a ball. Tonight we're off for some New York City pizza and watching the Zags game! 

choosing gratitude

My mind needs a break from the intellectual life. All I have been doing these past couple days is attempting to pull out pages and pages of concise yet eloquent words of research and policy surrounding issues in child welfare. I am not used to intense intellectual thought for hours and hours and no break. If you were to walk past me any of these last days at Sydney’s, my coffee shop of choice, you would see an intense stare into my laptop screen, complete with furrowed brow and feet tapping below to the soundtrack my dear Pandora unrolls for me as I type, type, type away…

I’ve been thinking about Malawi a lot lately. For whatever reason, it’s come up in conversation with strangers, with new friends, with family and with someone becoming very dear to me. After I’ve been talking about it, then it seems as though all things remind me of my time there. From a website featuring a picture of the darling girls I got close to, to the smell of a conditioner I started using in Malawi, these little reminders set my heart on my loves a world away. It’s hard to be a world away from the people and place you love so much. I’m tempted to become melancholy and bummed, but I’m choosing gratitude tonight. I’m grateful to sit and recall the laughter, the jokes, the culture and the beauty of the people.

I’m grateful to have a place that brings my heart so much joy and so many memories worth treasuring. Instead of feeling torn between the northwest and a home in Africa, instead of feeling torn between these two places, instead of reliving or fearing goodbyes, I’m choosing to be thankful for two homes. In whichever place I physically reside, my heart will always be present and alive in both. And whenever I leave one for the other, I know there is a welcoming home, always a hello, a refreshing arrival.

I know in my heart that someday I will again feel that freshness of arriving on African soil. Someday…

oh, the feathers...

I pulled into the Sydney’s parking lot this morning, ready to bust out some pages for several papers due in the next few weeks. I did the usual last min check in the mirror to make sure I didn’t have crazy hair or spinach in my teeth, not that I’ve eaten spinach today, but you never know…Then I put my hand in my pocket to grab my daily vitamin and with the vitamin out came this fluff of feathers. I just started laughing in my car, at all these feathers that won’t go away.

It must have been a year ago that I was knocked out by this 48 hour flu bug. I had broken my 14 year streak Anyhow, I hadn’t done a thing in this 48 hours but be sick. So I started to feel guilty and decided I should do SOMETHING productive. I thought, I’m going to wash this sickness out of my sheets and clothes by doing laundry. YES, I felt good about this. So I set out to wash my sheets, wash the sickness I slept into my sheets away, throw in some jeans and a throw from the couch…now this should have been just fine and dandy.

(A jump back in time…)

Laundry is done, hooray. I am officially PRODUCTIVE. To my surprise, I open the dryer and a bazillion feathers waft every which direction in the air and into the next room. OH MY GOSH, what is happening? I see all my bedding and jeans and the down throw from the couch COVERED in feathers; they’re EVERYWHERE. I quickly scan my brain, sure it’s down, but I have washed it before…SURELY I would remember if this had happened the first time. Yes, I HAD washed it before and THIS did not happen. What the heck happened? I slowly take some of the items out of the dryer, after pulling a massive handful of feathers out of the lint catcher, and a zillion more feathers blow around the room. I am in complete disbelief at this point, until I spot the problem. There is a three inch tear in the side of the down blanket, I have no clue how it got there, but I think it may have been an evil plot conceived by zipper of my jeans…In this tear is another massive handful of feathers overflowing into the room. I have no idea what to do and my seven saltine crackers and ginger ale did not provide me the energy needed to tackle this fiasco that feels like a dream.

I collapse into my laundry; feathers fly into the air and fall like…feathers, all around me.

Oh dear.

(Back to the present.)

I kept finding those feathers everywhere. I could count on seeing three, five or ten of ‘em every time I did laundry. Maybe I would see a few here and there around the apartment or in the car. Those feather sightings gradually disappeared about six months ago. I hardly noticed, but if I had I would have taken a moment of gratitude for their departure. But today, TODAY, they decided to appear again, just like that, and crawl back into my life.

It got me thinking while I was just sitting in my own laughter out in the parking lot, that no matter how much you thought something or someone was out of your life, parts or pieces of them waltz back in whether it be a phone call, an email, a dream, a photo, a song, a memory, a feather fluff. Sometimes they are welcome reminders, other times not. We may welcome these people back into our lives after their absence and quickly adjust to their presence.

Sometimes these people or thoughts are not welcome. I was talking with my friend, Courtney about how letting go is a constant process. Letting go of thoughts or forgiving someone are difficult things and over and over again, we have to give those thoughts over. And when they come back we just give them back over again.

Memory is an amazing thing. For a friend that has gone away forever; we find ways to keep them with us in our memories, which is why I rest in nostalgia when I hear ‘black bird’ by the Beatles or ‘alive’ by Pearl Jam. I welcome these “feathers” when they come around. But not this old fluff in my pocket, I’m over those feathers.

Bartender, pour me a double.

It’s a beautiful day in Portland. The newscasters even sent out a warning in the weather report this morning, “these warm temperatures may last through the week, stay tuned for information on the warm front approaching Portland.” Haha. We need to be warned if the weather might just be nice for any extended amount of time. I am LOVING it. I hate to say it, but my mood is very dependent upon the weather, which probably means I should move somewhere warm and sunny for the winter. My parents are making the “snowbird” move and flying south for the winter. They’re onto something…

So I am currently sitting in a sunny window of my favorite coffee shop/study spot, Sydney’s and the Montessori kids are playing and screaming on the playground outside, the trains are whistling as they go by, and I’m looking up at the beautiful arches of the Fremont bridge. AND I have an iced coffee that never tasted so good and I’m catching up on letter writing, which is just refreshing. AND it’s a good hair and wardrobe day. Sigh. Present life is good.

However, future life is giving me mini heart attacks every time I think about it. I’m graduating in four months. And then…I will officially enter the "real world". That’s when real life begins, when you are no longer a student and get a real job, right? OR is it when you leave the single life and get married (cue bells and flowers and bubbles!)? Those both seem to be popular beliefs these days… Can I just boycott the whole real life thing? Or would that mean that I stay single and jobless forever? Because that’s not so appealing, either. Eeesh. Well, single/marriedness aside…I will need to find a job in four months and this current economy is KILLING my hopes. The unemployment rate in Portland is TERRIBLE. It’s one or two percent higher than other places in the country. It doesn’t help that the only Masters of Social Work program in Oregon is in Portland, and come June another couple hundred social workers will be looking for work, probably IN Portland. There’s an over-abundance of social workers in this city, which is awesome because people are being helped and served, but is there room for me? I dunno…

My parents have passed on some info about social work jobs in Seattle. I think this is less of a ploy to have me move back to Seattle near home and family but more of a ploy to get me employed, anywhere. It stresses me out to think about where I may be in four months. I hate NOT knowing. This whole thing, this whole time, liminal space if you will. I’m not a fan. I don’t like preparing for a change that may or may not happen. I’m not sure where to invest myself. Do I continue building community in Portland when I may not even find a job here? Should I work on building community in Seattle? Should I move to somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where SURELY they need social workers? Scranton? Malawi? Haines?

Bartender, pour me double.

Here’s to the unknown…

in awe of the human spirit

I love our Hospice multi-disciplinary meetings. We go over the patients one by one and hear from the nurse, doctor, social worker and chaplain about how each patient is doing. I love this part because I don’t get a chance to work directly with patients, as my role comes in after the patient has passed and I connect and work with their families. Thus, it’s really neat to hear about the lives of patients from the other side.

The mood vacillates between joy and sorrow and we discuss the ups and downs of patient care and situations. As we discuss patients and each person offers a piece of information from their lens, I am able to glimpse into their lives as well. They are no longer just names on a census, names of which I will reference in difficult conversations with their families. They become real people in the midst of their stories, near the end of their stories, with full lives behind them.

-The story of the woman who was growing more and more tired and weary with each day. She had Alzheimer’s disease and has been confused for the last several months, unable to recognize friends or family. Last Tuesday, she awoke with her son sitting by her bed. She was completely clear-headed. She recognized her son and was overjoyed to see him and be in his presence. They were able to visit and catch up on lost time and say goodbye. She passed away an hour later.

-Or the story of the woman who was barely alive. She was eating next to nothing and sleeping most days. She wanted to see her son get married. She held on like this for a month and a half. She was able to see her son get married on Saturday and passed peacefully away on Sunday morning.

-And the story of the man who went through an invasive surgery a while back and had a vivid end of life experience in the hospital. He talked about a vision of light illuminating a door. He heard voices saying that he needed to make a choice. He could walk through the door or he could stay. He chose to stay-his wife needed him. He loved life and wasn’t ready to go. His body is weak, but he fights to live each day. The social worker was helping him process this and asked him, “what would you choose today if the door were to present itself again?” He said he would walk through the door.

It’s incredible the glimpses of life that I get to see. It’s the human spirit. I’m in awe. People are resilient. I’m learning that over and over every day. People know what they need to do and they make a choice to do it.