There is a difference.

I HATE talking about politics. Besides the fact that it's a social faux pas, it always puts people in a bad mood unless you agree with the person(s) in the conversation, and then, where's the opportunity for a new perspective? However, I need to say something.

There is a difference between having conservative political views and disobeying the Gospel. Jesus tells us to show love to everyone, to help people in need, to use the gifts we've been given to give others a leg up. Of course I will listen to what I'm commanded to do and obey. It is my privilege to honor the God that has given me everything. I just don't want to hand over the reigns to the government in this area.

Not all conservatives are selfish, power-hungry people and I rarely get angry, but I am outraged at being so quickly lumped into that category. (EDIT: after some thinking, I realized that is worded poorly. Of course I can be selfish sometimes - we all can. I should clarify that selfishness and a desire for power are not the basis for my political beliefs.) Getting into arguments with Christian liberals is very upsetting to me. These are people who love and serve the same God that I do accusing me of hurtful and downright inaccurate things. I do NOT believe in only giving to those who "deserve" it. Christians have been given eternal life and everyone knows we don't deserve it. My issue is that I would rather pray and be led to those to whom I need to give than to have that money automatically placed in areas that are going to help people financially, but not necessarily further His kingdom.

EDIT: I am not trying to convince anyone to believe as I do. I'm just stating where I stand and defending myself against an attack I've come under before.

Thanks, that's all.

To be fair, it was kind of obscure.

me: brb, laundry
Ryan: brb, going to moon

me: umm, I think that's gonna be a long long time

Ryan: yeah, the brb is misleading

Ryan: bbn

Ryan: be back never

me: but do you get it?

me: if you don't get it, you're not the man I thought you were at all. Oh, no, no, no.

"Leave Me"

This past weekend, my husband and some of our friends made a short film for a 36-hour contest. (No, I'm not posting this to drum up votes. There are specific judges for the contest. Your "vote" would make us smile, but would be obsolete in the actual determination of the winner.) The films have to be about 3 minutes long and include certain elements for points. I won't tell you what the elements are here because I don't want you to be looking for them and end up distracted from the story.

The film is absolutely beautiful, and I'm not just biased. Pretty much everyone from whom I've heard a response says it's a tear-jerker. It's difficult to pack so much emotion into so little time, but it only took about ten seconds for me to tear up. Our friend Dustin directed, many more friends were on the cast/crew and the film features Ryan and my precious friends Mag and the Kruses! Everyone did an absolutely fantastic job.

When you watch it, make sure you're in a place where it's okay to be sad! I know that sounds dumb but don't say I didn't warn you if you end up blowing your nose in your cubicle.

Brat.

Lately I've been realizing what a brat I am. I am so thankful that God is showing me this, because, as usual, it's only so that I can make the choice to either stay that way or be a better person.

Now, I don't think I'm more of a brat than the "average" person, but to me, that is no excuse. For one thing, I complain a LOT. Most of the complaints I make are inside my own head, but it's not any more fun for me to "listen" to them than it is for the people who get to hear the rest of my woes. I rely far too much on the things I like in my life - the things that make my life more convenient. If one of them is taken away even temporarily, I do not like it AT ALL. I whine and bathe myself in pity. It's disgusting. I read somewhere that a complaint is an emotional rejection of the circumstances God has put us in. Wow.

Thankfully, lately God has blessed me with an acute and immediate awareness of exactly how bratty I'm being, and most of the time I am able to put things into perspective and tell myself that it's not that big of a deal. Of course, SOMEtimes I decide to wallow in misery anyway. I am a stupid human.

One example of a lesson I'm learning is at church. Every other Sunday, I help serve tea before service. Tons of people come up and get tea or deplete the supply of ice water (which takes forever to build up) at speeds you wouldn't believe. If I had to pull a statistic out of thin air I'd say that 10% of the people say "thank you." I try to smile at and personally greet as many people as I possibly can. I say, "Hi, how are you today?" If I am lucky, I get a very quick, half-hearted smile in return before the person walks away, but sadly, most of the people act like I haven't said a word. (I used to think I was too quiet, so I started being louder but got scared, wide-eyed, "why is she shouting at me?!" looks in return.) It absolutely baffles me. I turn to the other girls and say, "HOW can people not even care when someone tries to talk to them? Why can't they even make eye contact?"

Then I get a tiny glimpse of how God must feel. He pours blessings on us, keeps us safe, tries to say "hi" in little and big ways all throughout our days, and how often do we look up and "smile" at Him? How often do we acknowledge what He is doing for us every single day? Shamefully seldom, at least in my case. But God does it anyway. He knew every huge and tiny screw-up we were going to make before he created this entire world, and He doesn't love us any less. That's kind of incredible, don't you think?

So I think I can put up with the gas in my house being off for the weekend. I think I can suck it up and show some extra love to the patient who is obsessed with pushing the call light all night, asking for someone to come fluff her pillows. I think I can continue to smile and greet the tea-takers every other Sunday whether they acknowledge me or not.

Of course, sometimes I'll feel sorry for myself anyway.

Nursing

A friend sent this to me. I'm not sure who wrote/compiled it, but in any case, I decided I needed to post it here because it is startlingly accurate:


Patients aren't always satisfied with how well nurses communicate, a recent Medicare survey revealed. Well, nurses had no trouble communicating with me after I defended them (last) Sunday. Nurses from recovery rooms, coronary care, pediatrics, geriatrics, ER and Trauma units e-mailed me across the country. Here's what they had to say:

Come walk in our shoes for a 12-hour shift. Come see the joy, the tragedy, the comedy, the 100 ways we are pulled and pushed, then rate my "pleasant greeting", "answers call light in timely fashion", "states name of patient."

Use the bathroom now, because you might not get the chance again until your shift ends.

Wear comfortable shoes. Don't worry if they're clean. They'll end up with blood and vomit on them.

We are the patient's advocate, the doctors' eyes and ears, and everyone's scapegoat.

We can page your doctor but we can't make that doctor magically appear.

We check your stitches, wipe your blood, drain your pus and empty your bedpan.

Nursing is a tough job, but we're tougher. We've been yelled at by administrators, supervisors and doctors. We've been kicked, slapped, punched, spat on, and sexually harassed by patients in various states of delirium, mental illness, arrogance, and intoxication. We've even had chairs and food trays thrown at us.

We work mandatory overtime, weekends and holidays.

We eat Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with coworkers.

We deal with families who ignore visiting hours, bring food to patients on restricted diets, and insist on staying the night even though it's not a private room.

We deal with the Florida son who orders us around to show a parent he's neglected for years that he cares.

We cannot be at your side every waking minute. We have 10 other patients.

We cannot answer 5 call lights at once.

We can't stop doing CPR on a patient because you ran out of tissues.

We are not maids, beauticians, or cocktail waitresses. We are professionals with college degrees.

We hate that we can't spend more bedside time with you.

Swearing at us will not make us move faster.

Taking better care of your health would help. Quit smoking. Lose weight. Start exercising. Stop drinking.

How do we survive? We ignore the nasty comments, the demanding relatives, the crazy staffing grids. We count to 10 before speaking. We pray every morning for strength and wisdom, patience and empathy. We drive home tired and frustrated, telling ourselves over and over , "I'm not the nurse I want to be, but I'm the best nurse the hospital staffing allows me to be." We fall asleep praying for the ones who won't survive the night.

There is no finish line, ever. Nursing is demanding, fulfilling, and we can't imagine doing anything else. Nothing beats washing blood and glass off a car crash survivor , stabilizing a broken neck, saving a diabetic's leg, keeping a cancer patient in remission. The day we send a patient home we relish the unbelievable resilience of the human body and spirit.

We did not become nurses for the hours, the salary, or the glamour of it all. We became nurses to make a difference.

We don't ask for much. One sincere "thank you" makes all the thankless hours worth it.

In all honesty, I wish I could say I agreed with the last part. How admirable it would be to say that all of that is worth it to me. The truth is, I didn't become a nurse because I wanted to be a nurse all my life. I became a nurse because I wanted to meet a guy in college and get married and be a stay-at-home wife, and nursing seemed like good preparation. Of course, I don't ever walk into a patient's room with the attitude, "Yeah, yeah, this is just my temporary gig until my dream comes along. What do you want?" My circumstances are NOT their fault and I try as hard as I can to never let my personal woes affect how I view someone in need. If I'm frustrated and burned out, it's because of everything you read above.

Sometimes I come home from work and tell my husband that I wish he could follow me around with his camera during a shift, then air it as a documentary on PBS or something. If people could only see how what they think is important (running out of tissues) compares to what else is going on that I can't mention (the lady down the hall who could code any minute), I really think things would be different.

Well, there it is, I guess.

Greyscale Wrap Day

Well, it's over. It's been a crazy and incredibly fulfilling ride. We've met tons of new awesome people and learned more than we could ever describe. This is one of those things that I never, ever imagined would happen in my life but it makes perfect sense that it has. We are not the authors, my friends.

Saturday, April 4th was our wrap day. We started mid-morning and ended after midnight. It was a very fun day, complete with a fire truck. I even got to pretend to be dead on a gurney because they needed a stiff. Here's how that conversation went:

(Sarah approaches the set after returning from a Bread Co. run)
Ryan: "Umm...hey, Sarah?"
Sarah: "YES I'll be dead under a sheet!!!"

Call me weird. Call me sick. Call me macabre. You're absolutely right.

Anyway, back to the day's events. On camera, there were thugs, there was sneaking around a warehouse, there were paramedics on scene. Off camera, there were laughs, there were silly dances, there were random bursts of "Fiddler on the Roof" songs (shout-out to Mag!). We had a great and productive last day on set.

Here are some photos to enjoy. Myself and a bunch of other people were using the camera that day so photo credit goes to pretty much everyone.



Okay, so at some point in the afternoon I realized that between the area we were shooting and the room where the "suited-up" actors were waiting was a perfectly-placed wall:
Teehee. They were jealous of the fun we were having. I'm sure of it.

Moving on:
Fooooood. (I missed this. I was too busy jamming to Will Smith in my car on the way back to set after a much-desired shower.)

Adorable cake that Ryan's mom got:


I caught this gentleman deeply pondering who-knows-what:

Okay, here we go! Here I am getting strapped down:

And having way more fun than a corpse should have:

And there I am! w00t!

Thanks, guys!

Our lovely Marisa had other duties that day, but she made it just in time for the last shot.

Overall, I think our director was satisfied.

Thanks to EVERYONE on this project for making my life so much better. None of us will ever forget this.

Egg night!

It's a little pathetic how long I sat trying to think of an exciting post title that did not involve an egg pun. Turns out there isn't one (unless you can come up with one), so "egg night" it is. It was way more fun than it sounds.

Some friends came over and we dyed, decoupaged, ate, talked, and laughed for a few hours. It was perfect!

Okay, the only picture I got of Gloria was of her making us sandwiches. A little embarrassing (you DO NOT see the empty paper towel roll on the holder or the casserole dish in the sink - to be fair, we had JUST used the last paper towel and the dish was clean, just drying) but here she is in all her glory - ha, ha:

Yes, someone else was making sandwiches for us. No, I was not at the top of my hostessing game that night. I had spent two hours trying to hollow eighteen eggs and managed to ruin half the crate before someone else took over. I was a little cracked. (I guess I'm giving up on the "no egg puns" thing.) Okay, let's move on.

One friend brought her amazing glass teapot o' goodness and wonder. We all sat in awe as we watched the tea blossom. 'Twas funny.



The lovely eggs:


My favorite:This egg isn't exactly beautiful, but it is an adorable bunny with a cane nonetheless (don't forget my obsession with old animals):

And I must say that I am quite proud of my "egg tree." Funny story - I spent a couple of weeks looking for the perfect branch on which to hang my eggs. Finally, on Saturday while running errands on Greyscale's wrap day (a post on that to come), I was driving up Memorial and found the PERFECT branch. I told myself that I would come back for it later in the day. A few hours after that, I drove up and down Memorial looking for it but didn't see it anywhere. I figured that it must have blown away and I was very sad. BUT - after we wrapped, while heading toward the BA, I saw it.

Turns out it wasn't a branch. It was a whole tree. Someone had evidently uprooted it and decided that the side of a busy street in midtown was a good place for it. Undaunted, I pulled over into an empty parking lot, put my foot down on the tree, and tore off a good piece. I threw it into the backseat of my car, feeling like a very silly criminal. I took it home, sawed off the torn edge and some extra twigs, and spray-painted it. It became my quirky little egg tree.
To think I almost paid $40 for a little egg-hangy-thingy at Pier 1...

All in all, we had an eggcellent time. Aww, man...