Resurrection
Well.
It's been ages. If you are reading this, then I apologize for the extraordinarily long wait period. If there isn't anyone reading this, well then that just serves me right. Regardless, I've returned to the escapades of writing not for the gasping of readers but instead the decompression of the soul. Writing is like the long, lost friend who, though you may sometimes fall out of communication with, tends to pick up right where you both left off. So here I am; back to the lilting, swaying of understandable emotions through written word - the safer route through which I can hide behind. And prepare yourself for this post is going to be a doozy.
Twice over the last two days I've been asked about this blog and to be completely honest with you, I'm not exactly sure where either of those comments came from. The first time, we were talking about the Meyer's Briggs personality test and how I am a firm thinker rather than feeler. Emotions aren't my favourite things in life; a friend of mine in my a capella choir and I joke how the "feels" are just too much at the best of times. I responded within this conversation by mentioning how I best deal with emotions through writing and the lady I was with asked why I had stopped my blog. To which I was speechless and unsure. The second time, was last night. We were hypothesizing about the age-old question for people of my age group:
"If you could do anything for a career with no strings attached, no proverbial corporate ladders to work up ... just to simply be at the top of your game doing what you do best, what would you do?"
Interestingly enough, I knew my answer right off the bat. I would abandon the emotionally tumultuous hallways of nursing for the slightly more gluttonous (though important none-the-less) meanderings of food writing. (Imagine with me for a moment: you go from restaurant to restaurant, eating proper cooked food, drinking wine to pair with it, and be snarky, comical, and critical about the minute details to not just bring egotistical and overrated restaurants down a few pegs, but to buoy up the struggling places if they are indeed worthy of recognition. I have always been a "support local!" mentalist, but that job would encourage my community and give rational, reasonable ways to hint to the providence and provision of our Lord through something completely necessary like sustenance. Yes, that is my idea of a good time.) Writing is a strength, and clearly something I've been neglecting. The gent I was sitting beside while we were talking about these fanciful ideas made a comment asking if I had written here since 2012 to which I replied, "yes! But not since 2013." Imagine my snarkiness when I found I have indeed written even since 2013... twice in 2014! Not my finest moment of glory, but I'll take the sparkle despite this.
So here I return. The lost prodigal daughter. But I do not simply return at the promptings of my community. No, there is a reason.
I've already hinted to the complete need for "soul decompression" but truth be told, the return of this jedi has also to do with the season of Lent.
Today marks the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday. (If you are unfamiliar with the season/event/celebration/holiday period of Lent, I would encourage you to check out this website which really concisely describes just what goes along with this time of year.) Many Christians that I have met over the years do not really ascribe to the tradition of lenten fasting, however I believe it's really quite a good practice in our faith. It is a time of reflection, a time of supplication, a time of giving up that which is important to you for the recognition and turning-of-eyes toward Jesus and the cross. Each year I give up something different, something that will be a challenge to me and something that I will inevitably miss often. That is the point. But in the last few days, I've been stretched in my decision of fasting.
My church posted a rather insightful quote from St. John Carlos Chrysostome on this tradition:
So this is where my small, frail, emotion-disliking human heart has gone. Not only will I give up all manner of alcohol (I know that makes it sound like I have a problem, but I just really enjoy a good [single] glass of wine when I get home from work. Wine and cheese could prevent many of the world's problems), but I will also work to, as St. John Carlos so succinctly put, do good to [and for!] others. Truthfully when I was working through this, I thought it sounded like a bit of a cop-out; I mean, I am a nurse after all... even when I don't want to do good to [and for!] others, I'm morally and professionally obligated to do so. And seeing as my dreams of food-writing are indeed just that, I really ought to make myself better for the glory of God and the care of those I encounter daily. As a result, I've come up with two tangible ways to improve my heart and my quick-judging head to better benefit others to do good to [and for!] them, both in and out of the hospital.
1. Be more courteous. Anyone who has interacted with my a capella choir over the last week knows that this is verbatim from our most recent-done study, but really, I think this is a great place to start. Gary Chapman puts it well in his book, Love as a Way of Life:
2. Demonstrate more hopefulness. Nursing isn't easy. I live and breathe through the pain, joy, immobility, and frustration of others. I'm almost daily confronted with whining, abuse (from families, from patients, from doctors...), violence, alcoholism, brain injuries, or addictions in some scope or another. Nursing, in a nutshell, is acknowledging the messiness of human nature in the midst of injury and choosing to work through it all. It's not a safe job and somedays it's really not a fun job at all. But there are glimmers where I get to see growth, and love, and compassion, and empathy at it's finest and it gives me such joy. But (thankfully!) hope surpasses nursing. Everyone has encountered those days where they are simply dreading going to work. I am no exception. But rather than actively revelling in this pessimism, darkness, and eye-rolling madness, I choose to sustain more of my God-given optimism. I am an optimistic person by nature and I have become flabbergasted just how much more negative I have become over the last 2 years. This is not okay. It's not who I've been created to be, nor is it someone I particularly like. I choose to lift others up, to encourage others, to see the best and brightest in every situation, and to treat each moment as if it were a unique adventure to take me to new places. I hope to raise rather than crush, to smile rather than grimace, and to flirt with joy rather than bask in disregard.
So where does this take us? You've gotten a glimpse into the person I am becoming through my shortcomings, my strengths, my aspirations, and my fears. But I am convinced that through all these things (and wrapped with the goals of the next 47 days) that we are taken to no other place than to the cross. The place where our self-assurance is laid aside for the heart-wrenching reality that Jesus came so that we might have life, and to have it abundantly.
I am excited for Lent this year. To be more giving, more courteous, more hopeful and optimistic. It will be a challenge. Where in most cases I would much rather keep myself to myself and chug on a day at a time, here, I am forced to put the well-being, hearts, and spirits of others before my own without even an ounce of wine to soften the blow. I choose to be a better person, a person that is worthy of the commendation of "well done, good and faithful servant". Here's to eating cheese after work, not snapping at other's poorly-timed comments, and continued dreams of writing about food.
It's been ages. If you are reading this, then I apologize for the extraordinarily long wait period. If there isn't anyone reading this, well then that just serves me right. Regardless, I've returned to the escapades of writing not for the gasping of readers but instead the decompression of the soul. Writing is like the long, lost friend who, though you may sometimes fall out of communication with, tends to pick up right where you both left off. So here I am; back to the lilting, swaying of understandable emotions through written word - the safer route through which I can hide behind. And prepare yourself for this post is going to be a doozy.
Twice over the last two days I've been asked about this blog and to be completely honest with you, I'm not exactly sure where either of those comments came from. The first time, we were talking about the Meyer's Briggs personality test and how I am a firm thinker rather than feeler. Emotions aren't my favourite things in life; a friend of mine in my a capella choir and I joke how the "feels" are just too much at the best of times. I responded within this conversation by mentioning how I best deal with emotions through writing and the lady I was with asked why I had stopped my blog. To which I was speechless and unsure. The second time, was last night. We were hypothesizing about the age-old question for people of my age group:
"If you could do anything for a career with no strings attached, no proverbial corporate ladders to work up ... just to simply be at the top of your game doing what you do best, what would you do?"
Interestingly enough, I knew my answer right off the bat. I would abandon the emotionally tumultuous hallways of nursing for the slightly more gluttonous (though important none-the-less) meanderings of food writing. (Imagine with me for a moment: you go from restaurant to restaurant, eating proper cooked food, drinking wine to pair with it, and be snarky, comical, and critical about the minute details to not just bring egotistical and overrated restaurants down a few pegs, but to buoy up the struggling places if they are indeed worthy of recognition. I have always been a "support local!" mentalist, but that job would encourage my community and give rational, reasonable ways to hint to the providence and provision of our Lord through something completely necessary like sustenance. Yes, that is my idea of a good time.) Writing is a strength, and clearly something I've been neglecting. The gent I was sitting beside while we were talking about these fanciful ideas made a comment asking if I had written here since 2012 to which I replied, "yes! But not since 2013." Imagine my snarkiness when I found I have indeed written even since 2013... twice in 2014! Not my finest moment of glory, but I'll take the sparkle despite this.
So here I return. The lost prodigal daughter. But I do not simply return at the promptings of my community. No, there is a reason.
I've already hinted to the complete need for "soul decompression" but truth be told, the return of this jedi has also to do with the season of Lent.
Today marks the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday. (If you are unfamiliar with the season/event/celebration/holiday period of Lent, I would encourage you to check out this website which really concisely describes just what goes along with this time of year.) Many Christians that I have met over the years do not really ascribe to the tradition of lenten fasting, however I believe it's really quite a good practice in our faith. It is a time of reflection, a time of supplication, a time of giving up that which is important to you for the recognition and turning-of-eyes toward Jesus and the cross. Each year I give up something different, something that will be a challenge to me and something that I will inevitably miss often. That is the point. But in the last few days, I've been stretched in my decision of fasting.
My church posted a rather insightful quote from St. John Carlos Chrysostome on this tradition:
No act of virtue can be great if it is not followed by advantage for others. So, no matter how much time you spend fasting, no matter how much you sleep on a hard floor and eat ashes and sigh continually, if you do no good to others, you do nothing great.Talk about striking, snarky, critical words that get to the heart of the matter. Somewhere no food blogger has ever gone before. But here I stand, on the first day of my lenten fasting, with revitalized, resurrected thoughts about how I should not only lay myself and my pride aside, but how I can better lift others up to the glorification of God. I have 47 days to start a new habit, a new trend. A daunting task, but one which I am excited for. I hope to create in my heart a more transparent place where the glory of the Almighty can shine through.
So this is where my small, frail, emotion-disliking human heart has gone. Not only will I give up all manner of alcohol (I know that makes it sound like I have a problem, but I just really enjoy a good [single] glass of wine when I get home from work. Wine and cheese could prevent many of the world's problems), but I will also work to, as St. John Carlos so succinctly put, do good to [and for!] others. Truthfully when I was working through this, I thought it sounded like a bit of a cop-out; I mean, I am a nurse after all... even when I don't want to do good to [and for!] others, I'm morally and professionally obligated to do so. And seeing as my dreams of food-writing are indeed just that, I really ought to make myself better for the glory of God and the care of those I encounter daily. As a result, I've come up with two tangible ways to improve my heart and my quick-judging head to better benefit others to do good to [and for!] them, both in and out of the hospital.
1. Be more courteous. Anyone who has interacted with my a capella choir over the last week knows that this is verbatim from our most recent-done study, but really, I think this is a great place to start. Gary Chapman puts it well in his book, Love as a Way of Life:
The popular conception of courtesy is to be well mannered. The word courtesy, however, is much richer; it means to be 'friendly-minded'. In the world of relationships, not everyone will choose to be our friend, but courtesy motivates us to treat all as friends in our speech and behaviour. Courtesy seems to be a small thing compared to acts of patients or forgiveness. But courtesy is rooted in a belief crucial to every relationship: everyone we meet is worthy of our friendship; beneath every exterior is a person worth knowing. When we truly believe this, this courtesy is not only possible, but inevitable.I struggle with courtesy a lot, more than I'd like to admit on the best of days. From my rather shaming road rage to my critical responses when someone verbally comes at me, there are a lot of places that I need to work on. That may look like refusing to look at my phone when I'm having a conversation or meal with someone, that may even look like choosing to soften my words to those who seem to be having a rough day, rather than snap back at them. I need to actively choose to put others first and to be more than just well mannered; to be someone who sees the value, worth, and relate-ability of each person I encounter. From roads to hospital beds to the guy behind the cheese counter at CO-OP, I choose to recognize the worthy-to-know person.
2. Demonstrate more hopefulness. Nursing isn't easy. I live and breathe through the pain, joy, immobility, and frustration of others. I'm almost daily confronted with whining, abuse (from families, from patients, from doctors...), violence, alcoholism, brain injuries, or addictions in some scope or another. Nursing, in a nutshell, is acknowledging the messiness of human nature in the midst of injury and choosing to work through it all. It's not a safe job and somedays it's really not a fun job at all. But there are glimmers where I get to see growth, and love, and compassion, and empathy at it's finest and it gives me such joy. But (thankfully!) hope surpasses nursing. Everyone has encountered those days where they are simply dreading going to work. I am no exception. But rather than actively revelling in this pessimism, darkness, and eye-rolling madness, I choose to sustain more of my God-given optimism. I am an optimistic person by nature and I have become flabbergasted just how much more negative I have become over the last 2 years. This is not okay. It's not who I've been created to be, nor is it someone I particularly like. I choose to lift others up, to encourage others, to see the best and brightest in every situation, and to treat each moment as if it were a unique adventure to take me to new places. I hope to raise rather than crush, to smile rather than grimace, and to flirt with joy rather than bask in disregard.
So where does this take us? You've gotten a glimpse into the person I am becoming through my shortcomings, my strengths, my aspirations, and my fears. But I am convinced that through all these things (and wrapped with the goals of the next 47 days) that we are taken to no other place than to the cross. The place where our self-assurance is laid aside for the heart-wrenching reality that Jesus came so that we might have life, and to have it abundantly.
I am excited for Lent this year. To be more giving, more courteous, more hopeful and optimistic. It will be a challenge. Where in most cases I would much rather keep myself to myself and chug on a day at a time, here, I am forced to put the well-being, hearts, and spirits of others before my own without even an ounce of wine to soften the blow. I choose to be a better person, a person that is worthy of the commendation of "well done, good and faithful servant". Here's to eating cheese after work, not snapping at other's poorly-timed comments, and continued dreams of writing about food.
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