another day, another lesson

Last Thursday I was sitting in room 5 of the ICU with a man who had recently lost 75% of his sight due to a stroke. He was originally from New York and had the perfect accent and was one of the nicest, most decent people I have ever met. He was describing how terrible the loss of vision is. He asked me if I could imagine what blindness is like. I told him that no, I could not even imagine a life without sight. He turned his head so that he could focus his left eye on me and told me that I was the first person so far who had said that she could not imagine. He said that everyone else thus far had said sure they could imagine. Then, he said, but of course, you are a professional. It was an interesting moment. Because I wasn't recalling any social worky lesson from grad school. I was simply stating the truth to a heartfelt, scared question. And my honest answer, is no, I cannot imagine a life without sight. A life without seeing my nephews faces, without opening my eyes each morning after a good night's rest, without being able to drive or watch the newest movie, without seeing the expression on someone's face after he opens up a present from me. I cannot imagine. And it was an important lesson. The first thing I am called to do with most every client and patient is listen and honestly acknowledge his or her pain. They want to know that someone cares that life sucks at that moment. After that, we can move on to referrals and planning and solutions. But first, there is a moment of rest. Plus, some people can figure things out for themselves if someone will just listen and care. So, I don't consider myself a social work pro, but I am learning a lot and I do care.

update

I'm back. After quite the hiatus, I am here at the computer with a few moments to spare. My life has changed dramatically over the past month. Just last semester I was living the easy life of class three days a week, great workouts, and lots of babysitting. Then, on January 9, 2008 I started my internship. I am now in class on Mondays and working Tuesday-Friday from 9am to 7pm. Welcome to the adult world of working all the time with studying and research to keep up with what I'm seeing. My day is divided. I spend the morning in the hospital doing psychiatric social work assessments. Basically, the MD's request that Paul does an evaluation on a patient presenting mental health or substance abuse issues. Paul and I see the patient, make recommendations and referrals. Our work with these patients is time-limited. After the hospital, we go to the office for the remainder of the day. Paul and I then do individual and family outpatients. I get to sit in on some of Paul's appointments and I do a few of my own. These appointments last from 12-5. At 5pm we do recovery groups. These groups are for people currently taking Suboxone in order to recover from opiate addictions. Basically, I am currently participating in my dream job. I love what I'm doing. It's such a joy to do something that I just get excited about.

One of the best parts of this internship is the hospital work. I'm actually getting to see all the things I've studied about and some things I'd never even thought about. I've seen a woman suffering from panic attacks, another man who lost most of his vision after a stroke, steroid-induced psychosis, lithium toxicity, depression, addicition, borderline personality disorder. It is fascinating. It's all I can do to absorb everything, study up on the meds I've never heard of, and not fall over from exhaustion at the end of the day.

I never dreamed how hard this job would be. Because no one comes to see a therapist because they are just having a great day. No, someone comes in because he/she is having a bad run of things or there's a crisis. I manage okay during the day and then want to just fall over at 7pm and have a little cry from about all the pain I've heard over the course of the last 10hours. The first week was the worst though. I started losing things and being really forgetful. Now, after three weeks, I can find my water bottle on the first try, thank God. However, the sleep is currently being affected. I'm still having trouble quieting my mind. Cases are running through my head, patients, stories, secrets, anguish. I don't know if I will ever forget the first time I sat with a complete stranger while she cried. It is a strange thing what people will tell me. It is a strange thing how resiliant the human body, spirit, and mind are. People have and are surviving through such horrors and pain. And it's helpless knowing that I can't fix it, but it's hopeful knowing that I can try to help. It's a strange thing how much humans bullshit each other, but my job calls for honesty about things I've considered taboo in the past: sexual activity, disease, money, thoughts, medications, diagnosis, trama.

So, in general I'm happy, but tired.

may I be

This evening a friend called to apologize. I am amazed at the power of three little words: I am sorry. There is such healing and power in those three words. In the forgiveness that followed and the bitterness that disappeared. The wound is still there, but at least it's not festering. It's just waiting for time and experience to change it's shape. I think it takes a wise, humble, yet strong person to seek forgiveness. May I be a person like that.

all in a day

Yesterday was one of those 'whoops' days. I leave my keys on the table next to the door. I normally open the door, grab the keys, turn the lock, shut the door. It happens in about half a second. So, yesterday, I head out to the car at 8:30 am in my pajamas to get something. I proceed to open the door, grab the notice that's been taped to the door, turn the lock, and shut the door. Oh shit. Immediately I realize that my keys are on the table on the other side of the locked door and the extra key is still sitting politely on the kitchen counter where it is of absolutely zero value to me. Claire is out of town. So, I try both doors and then take a seat on the sidewalk to think. Hmmmm.....what am I going to do in my pajamas at 8:30 in the morning with no house and no transpor..wait! I still, thankfully have access to the extra key for the XTerra (and no, the extra key is no longer in the car, thank you very much). So, I go get in the XTerra and continue to assess the situation. My swimsuit is in the car, so I start the car and head for the gym. I workout and then take a shower and put my pajamas back on. I then go to Wal-mart and buy myself some clean undies, pants, deodorant, a brush, and a shirt. Mind you, I'm walking around in public in bright pink pajama pants and an enormous gray shirt with paint on it. Not attractive and not without prayers that dear God I will not run into anyone I know. From there, I proceed about my day with clean hair and new clothing. So, about 2pm, I return to the house in vain hope that Claire has returned home early. No luck there. However, my neighbor, whom I have met once, was home. I meandered over and asked him if he could possibly break into my house. He said yes, we walked back to my house, and he proceeded to break open the door. I was ever so grateful and a little freaked out. I'm going to have to up the security around here to keep out my neighbors!

what you want, baby I got it

I have been blessed to be surrounded by a group of service-minded people lately. They are always looking for opportunities to give their time and love and energy away. As I look at my life, I wonder if I am being called to some extreme service. For instance, am I called to a war drenched country or a place that has suffered severe damage as a result of a natural disaster? I don't know. Life doesn't follow straight lines and plans. But, I do know that I am where I'm supposed to be in this moment. My life is not an accident. Sometimes I think that I make too much of mission trips and service events and fail to see the opportunities being neglected right around me. I think visiting my parents and playing scrabble with my mom is service. I think being present while my roommate weeps is service. I think lingering over coffee to hear a friend's stories is service. Regardless of where I am or who I'm with, my gift is myself and the peace of Christ that I carry in me.

I write and think a good bit about the relationship between joy and sorrow. Julient Green writes, "When you think of the mystical experience of many saints, you may ask yourself whether joy and suffering aren't aspects of the same phenomenon on a very high level. An analogy, crazy for sure, comes to my mind: extreme cold burns. It seems nearly certain, no, it is certain, that we can only go to God through suffering and that this suffering becomes joy because it finally is the same thing." My journey to the Lord was not an easy one. However, once I arrived at the knowledge of Him, it was so profoundly beautiful because I was, after the pain, able to recognize true joy.

wheels go round and round

So, this is the first time I have posted pictures on my blog. The first photo is of myself and baby jeep. Baby jeep and I have been together for ten years and we said goodbye last night. I had no idea that I could be so sentimental about an inanimate object. But, in some strange way, it was like a break-up. I hope the next owner appreciates baby jeep as much as I did.



However, I now am the proud owner of a midnight blue XTerra which is probably the coolest car on the planet earth. I am excited. Unlike the jeep, the speakers, windshield wipers, horn, and engine actually work! That is a huge plus in my book. XTerra and I are still getting used to each other and I haven't named her yet, so if you have any good thoughts on that, let me know.

claiming the truth

I think the twenties are interesting times. I have learned more in the past five years than I ever would have imagined. So much that sometimes I ache for a reduced incline on the learning curve. I am grateful for the wisdom of trusted love ones to walk me through. I have no idea how I would have survived without Amy Brown, my father, my brother Warren, and my sister-in-law Jackie. They have helped me make large decisions, if no other way than just listening intently and helping me listen to my heart and my own wisdom. I think one of my greatest struggles is allowing myself to believe that I am worth the love that is lavished on me. Over Christmas, Warren wrapped me up in a bear hug and whispered in my ear that I could come back and visit or live with them for a year or so any time I want. Imagine, my brother wanting my presence at any time for that long! It's such pleasant knowledge. I always worshiped my brothers, followed them around, listened to their every work, mimicked their movements. And now, to know that this brother desires my presence as well. And then, little Ryan. Ryan wept when I left Utah this time. He came running back time and again for another big hug and a loud smooch. I don't think he really understood in the past what it meant when I was 'leaving.' This year I do believe he understood. It was overwhelming to know that he cried at the thought of my absence.

I am reading a wonderful book entitled 'Life of the Beloved' by Henry Nouwen. He states, "beneath all my seemingly strong self-confidence there remained the question: 'If all those who shower me with so much attention could see me and know me in my innermost self, would they still love me?' Indeed, it is an agonizing question. One that makes me seek goodness, perfection even, and a sense of fear. Yet, Nouwen makes the point that I must claim my role as the "Beloved." I am not an accident. As it says in Psalm 139, "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." So, I can rest in the fact that regardless of my sinful nature, I am Christ's treasure. And I love what Nouwen points out about Christ's love. "When love chooses, it chooses with a perfect sensitivity for the unique beauty of the chosen one, and it chooses without making anyone else feel excluded." So, I am chosen in Christ and you are chosen in Christ and neither one is excluded. There is room for both and all.

In light of these things, I still believe that my character is important. I think it is difficult to be happy for others right now who are receiving the very thing that I want. However, I long to be truly happy for those that I love. And so, I cling to the knowledge that my life is not an accident. I am the beloved.

counsel

I can live with disappointment far more easily than uncertainty.