First Day Lessons

My clinical placement for the semester started today.  Unlike other semesters, with one consistent placement, this one will change half-way through, and the two placements couldn't be more different.  For the first six weeks I'm placed on an acute inpatient psychiatric unit.  For the last seven weeks I'll be on cardiac care unit.  Like I said, quite the difference in approach.

I made breakfast for dinner, put on my pajamas, and was in bed to crash and veg by 6:00 tonight.  Eight students and one instructor spent an intense four hours in a tiny conference room on the psych unit today.  I can't remember the last time I had that much information thrown at me at once.  It was overwhelming.  Add to that a 2 hour commute home by bus in a blizzard, and I was pretty done in by the time I managed to get here.

I wasn't expecting to feel overwhelmed by a psych placement.  I've dealt with my own struggles with anxiety and depression for close to half my life, and continue to take medication and meet with my therapist to manage that.  I have close family members and friends who have gone through severe and ongoing mental illness challenges for decades.  I've worked with the homeless population in our city in the past.  Unlike most of the students in my group, this was not the first time I've seen the inside of a psych unit.  I really thought I was prepared for this.  I don't feel anxiety when I discuss mental illness.  I don't struggle to have conversations with people who also battle those illnesses.  But something about all that information being thrown at me in a concentrated manner drowned out my usual calm and invited anxiety out to play.

I knew that working on psych could trigger some of my own struggles, and so I was mentally somewhat prepared for that, but just the four hours of orientation left me feeling a bit like I was drowning.  It was easy to lose all the positives in the face of thinking about nursing on a unit where wearing a stethoscope is a risk to your health because having it around your neck could be a choking hazard if a patient became aggressive.

I sat on the bus home feeling overwhelmed and alone.

The creeping feeling of anxiety still scares me.  The little ways it manages to sneak up and become BIG still surprise me, and as I sat on the bus, it was BIG.

Quite frankly, I spent a large portion of that bus journey throwing myself a pity party.  I was overwhelmed, and that made it easy to fall into old patterns, to believe old lies.  I sat there feeling miserable, telling myself that I was alone, that I didn't have anyone to talk to about how I was feeling, how overwhelmed I felt, the creeping anxiety that was threatening me.

And it was there, on the bus, that the first day lessons merged with the lessons I've spent the last couple years of therapy working on.  Coping strategies kicked in.  I remembered that four dear friends had promised to hold me in prayer before the day ever began, because I'd been wise enough to anticipate the potential for anxiety and share that with them in advance.  I sent strategic text messages to friends who I knew would not only hold me in prayer, but would help to draw me out of my pity party. I rearranged my evening plans to accomodate the need for increased self-care.  I was able to recognize that several things that depress my mood were in play today - I was in a new and overwhelming situation, I hadn't had breaks for appropriate nutrition, it was blizzarding (Seasonal Affective Disorder anyone?), I didn't get enough sleep last night,  and I'm dealing with hormonal health issues this week that always make my mood that much more labile.

And in that is where the lesson lies.  It's continually a revelation to me when certain things emerge.

After a decade of wrestling with poor boundaries and not great relationships, I had no less than nine friends who I could easily text to ask for prayer and support.  Friends who I can trust to know and love me even on the icky days.  I'm NOT alone!

I can recognize when I need to do better at self-care.  I can remind myself just how important it will be for me to eat appropriate meals and snacks over the next six weeks, and be diligent about getting to bed.  I can plan to pull out my SAD lamp and use it more regularly.

I can recognize the things that I can't change immediately (hormones, weather) and acknowledge that I don't need to be afraid of my mood, because I understand what's making it labile.

I can recognize that though I haven't needed to see my therapist as regularly lately, I might need to be a little more proactive with that in the next six weeks, and that I should book an appointment to talk through some of this experience.

And I can say no.  I can change plans because I need to honor my introversion or need for rest.  I don't have to force something that isn't me.

And with those revelations, I feel just a tiny bit more confident heading back to the unit tomorrow. Because in those revelations I see healing, I see growth, and I even see my word for the year, honor.  I am learning what it is to honor the space I'm in, even while I'm continuing to grow into new spaces.

It's going to be a challenging six weeks.  I'm going to see and experience new things - some of them very hard things.  Some of those are probably going to trigger afternoons like the one I had today.  All of them are going to teach me.  They're going to instill greater compassion and understanding in me.  They're going to inform my practice as a nurse.  And I can choose to focus on the fact that they might be triggering, or I can choose to focus on the fact that even the triggering moments are ones for growth, for learning, and for recognizing how far I've come.  And I can choose to be grateful for that.  (Remind me of that, would you, if you catch me having any sort of extended pity party?  I might vent, but I want to choose to honor this season, too, and to honor it with thanksgiving.)

Commendations

The last few weeks in school as we've focused on family centered nursing, we've spent hours upon hours talking about interviewing, about asking questions, and about offering commendations.  (So many hours, in fact, that a little inside joke about beating a dead horse sprang up in conversation with my best friend and the poor horse became the subject of a goofy ongoing facebook wall conversation.)  We've talked about relationships, and building rapport.  And we've stressed over and over and over again that the relationship, the question, or the commendation in many cases IS the intervention.

It's not a particularly revolutionary concept for someone with a background in mental health, or for anyone who has spent any time at all sitting across from a therapist, but bits and pieces of it, particularly the commendation part, have stood out to me and left me feeling my way around inside myself, asking if these things that seem new are truths here to stay, or visiting stories of the sort that taste wonderful upon arrival but leave very little if any lasting impression.

A commendation, it was stressed, is NOT a compliment.  A commendation draws on history, experience, and builds up a person's strengths.  It notices the deeper things.

Did I mention that we spent hours upon hours talking about this? Or the part where, in a room with people we may have only known for a few weeks, we practiced?  We sat in a circle and asked carefully formed questions about each other's lives.  And then, a week later, we sat in that circle again and we gave each other commendations (and stars, because well, the stars were a fun way to keep track of how many we'd given and received.)

Two commendations have been floating around in my thoughts for the last week or so - one from that time in a circle, and the other given somewhat inadvertently by a good friend as we chatted before a lecture began.

The first was a comment from a classmate, one who I don't know well, yet, a new groupmate.  She commented that she appreciated that I was very open about my life experiences, including the harder bits, and that I was willing to let those experiences be points of learning for the others in my group.

Those words hit home in a way I didn't expect.  For a long time I've had a commitment to live honestly and openly.  To speak truth wherever possible.  In the last year, especially, as I've found healing, I find myself more open than ever.  It seems crazy to me at times (I have a lot of internal conversations where even as I speak of a part of my past, my inner voice is screaming "What the heck are you saying? Are you aware of the potential negative consequences of sharing that?")  I've spoken openly about some of my history with mental health, about my faith, and even about some of the challenges that come with family and my current living situation.  I've done it even when I'm aware of the mental image of me that it could allow others to create.  And mostly I don't regret it, but I do wonder at times what others think of  me.  Because of that it was gratifying that this new classmate recognized and thanked me for this.  That this part of me that I do almost unconsciously now was noticed.

The second commendation made me laugh when it sprouted, unrehearsed from the lips of a good friend as we sat and chatted before class.  The two of us bonded last semester over horrendous group work, and the challenges of adapting to the craziness of nursing school, and we've become close, sharing far more than just venting sessions about homework and moving to the ins and outs of our lives.  I was telling her that I'd booked tickets to fly to Florida in August, to meet four other women who I know only from our online conversations.  Four women that I've never met in person.  Without thinking, my friend spouted, "You're ballsy!"

I burst out laughing, and we moved on with our conversation, but her words have stayed with me.  I've never thought of myself as a person of courage.  Never thought of myself as adventurous, or a risk taker.  I'm attached to my comfort zone, generally opposed to change on principle, introverted, and prefer schedules to spontaneity the vast majority of the time.  And yet, "You're ballsy!" echoes around my insides, seeing if it can make itself at home.  It acts as a mirror, reminding me of who I am becoming - that the courageous heroine I've appreciated in books since childhood might in fact just be a part of my true self.  This isn't even the first time I've gotten on an airplane to meet friends made via internet connections, it reminds me.  It bounces around some more and I remember that I love the controlled risk of riding a good roller coaster.  Another bounce and I am reminded of the work I have poured into facing the hardest bits of my life and finding healing.  A final bounce and we're back at the commendation from my newer classmate, the reminder that in a world that values privacy and hides brokenness at all costs, I've chosen to let the frayed bits of me show, and that sometimes those frayed bits help others to learn and heal.

Nothing could have convinced me that a commendation IS an intervention in the life of a client until I sat with these words spoken by friends this last week.  Until I saw the way that words of commendation spoken to me at just the right moment built on truths and desires that had been growing within me already.  Until I saw the way that those words gave me strength to keep going. Until I saw the way those words made me stronger.  It's a unique way to learn a lesson, an unexpected thing to experience in such a personal way a skill we're taught to use on others, but I'm oh so thankful for it this week.

A "Mature" Student

The other day a long time blog reader, Ally, posted the following on my facebook wall:

So i have a question-- and i don't intend to stir up any difficult emotions so let me apologise in advance should i do-- but i know that you're a couple years older than i am and you're back in school... does being several years older than the majority of students ever make you feel inadequate as a student, or even as yourself? It's a huge struggle for me, i've been in college for years and due to a variety of circumstances, i haven't been able to receive my degree-- even the AA with Taylor fell through at the last moment as i prepare to transfer out to finish my BA. Do you relate to this? Maybe you could write a blog post about it? 


I decided that writing a post to answer this question was exactly what I would do, and so, here goes...

I've thought a lot about being back in school at a much older age than you would normally find in an undergraduate program. (For those of you who are wondering just exactly how old I am, I'm 28, nearly 29.)  Graduating with a bachelor's degree on the opposite side of 30 was never on my list of life plans, but it's what's happened.

The short answer to Ally's question is no, I don't really struggle with feeling inadequate because of being older.  That said, there are reasons for that.  First, I graduated once - I know what it feels like.  Second, my current program is designed for students who already hold a degree, so while I'm older than a lot of them (I'd say the average age is 23-25), I'm by no means the oldest.  Third, it's only really in the last year that I've begun to feel really comfortable in my own skin, and I feel like I've carried that comfort level with me into this new stage of studying.

The longer answer is this - while I don't feel inadequate, I do feel very out of place sometimes.  I feel out of place when I listen to a 20 year old complain, and I wonder if I acted entitled.  I feel old when someone assures me that there is something in their life that they will never do (perhaps getting married, or having babies) and I remember being in my very early twenties and saying the same thing (and scoffing at the friends in their late twenties who assured me that that would change).  I feel old when I recognize that the classes are geared towards a generation a few years younger than me, who learned everything by doing, by group work, and very little through the sort of instruction I've been used to.  I feel odd when people talk about 30 like it's the worst possible age, and I realize that it doesn't feel old to me, and I'm actually looking forward to it!  I feel odd when I realize that in ways the other students haven't yet, I've learned some hard life lessons, and the cost of things.  I know the costs - personal, emotional, financial - of being an older student.  They're costs these younger friends of mine maybe won't know.

It's hard to be back in school sometimes.  There are days I wish I'd known my life direction when I was twenty, or eighteen, and I'd gone to nursing school right out of high school.  And there are days when I'm thankful for the decade of experience between my high school graduation and this return for a second go-round at university.  I have an empathy and a certainty of direction that I'm pretty sure is a rarity at twenty.  I have skills and commitment and the ability to make the hard decisions.  Oh, and quite frankly, I'm a far more dedicated student now.  The costs of this are real to me.  I've navigated the professional world, and finances, and I know what it costs for me to be doing this right now.  I pay my bills now.  I didn't do that the first time around (well, I paid my tuition then, too, but not food and rent).

All of that said, though, I'm thankful for the other students - the ones who are younger and the ones who aren't.  I'm thankful that the program I'm in is one where the majority of the student population holds a previous university degree.  I'm thankful for the perspective I have now - the perspective that lets me remember what it was like to be twenty, to be that young and keen student, and to appreciate that in my friends, while still holding solidly and comfortably to the person that I've become.

I hope that answers your question, Ally :)  If you have follow-ups (if any of you reading have follow-ups) leave them in the comments and I'll answer there when I have a minute or two, or expand them to a post if there's quite a few.

Awkward Moments

Last week the new semester of school started off with a ton of work.  How often do you finish the first day of a semester and realize you're already a couple hundred pages and a few hours of instructional videos behind?

And then there was the hygiene lab...


(y'all, I'm so scared about the kind of search term traffic this post is going to drive to my blog!)

You know you're a nursing student when you watch two different instructional videos and then have a conversation in a public place about the fact that the video failed to zoom in on the key area (in this case a penis) so that we really knew the difference between the videos and what to do in each situation.

There was the instructor who couldn't bring herself to use anatomically correct terms.  Yep.  A professional.  Can I just say that the already awkward situation was made that much worse by the use of the term "Mr. Happy"?

Or the hand motions in place of the word "breast" when discussing the hygiene needs of elderly ladies.

Or the demonstration and discussion about foreskins, using a surgical glove with a cut off finger tip.

More than that, there was the hilarious laughter and conversations that came from sharing the learning later that day with good friends. And later in the week with family.

Before the lab arrived, I was pretty much horrified.  The whole virgin thing means that, well, I'm not exactly acquainted with a man's intimate anatomy. I expected to blush through the entire lab, and couldn't picture having to care for a patient in that way.

After everything that went on in the learning process, I'm not even embarrassed about the craziness of the lab anymore.  Right now I'm totally amused.

I know I can be professional when that situation calls for it.

From other experiences in my life, I can empathize about the vulnerability of being in that position, and needing that sort of care, and I intend to use that empathy when I care for patients facing that sort of vulnerability.

But the experience of learning how to care for patients in those situations?  I think that might always make me laugh.

Free Bird

I'm feeling a lot less stressed as I write this post.

The last school thing that had really been weighing on my mind was finished yesterday afternoon.  It was something I'd been dreading, and now it's over.

Don't get me wrong.  There are still two presentations, one paper, and one final exam standing between me and the end of the semester, and all of those hold tiny amounts of stress, but none of them hold the stress that yesterday held for me over the last week or so.

And now it's done, and I'm a free bird!

And at this point, I'm planning to celebrate my freedom tonight by having dinner with all my house church people (hello pizza!!!), and cuddling a week-old baby boy (a new honorary nephew to spoil!) for the first time.

It's a lovely thing to be a free bird!

On Safety, Stretching, and Studying

I've thought all week about what I would say here today.  How I would balance a need to "talk" out loud and process the things that have gone on in the last couple of weeks with a need to recognize that words have power, and that some of the people who read here from time to time don't know me well.  Basically I'm wrestling just a little bit with the reality that some of the people I know in real life read here, are new here, and I'm wondering if this space is safe.

It's funny that - it had just begun to feel safe again, after a long time of choosing words carefully because of numerous painful situations in my life.  And now, I wonder again.  I wonder about my decision to integrate this space with my daily life by making it visible on facebook.  It means my audience isn't always the group of spiritual explorers and travelers that it has been in the past.  It means that classmates, that people who know me only via other connections, have suddenly found themselves here, in this, my most intimate of spaces.  The place I've thought and processed and wrestled and questioned and celebrated and mourned in. The place that has been my place of safety for nearly seven years.

And so I started writing, still not knowing what to say, exactly, about the last week or so of my life.

School has been hard.  Some of the dynamics have been immensely challenging for me personally.  In my mind they reached a climax of sorts last week, via some tactics that felt contrived and manipulative.  It's never a happy thing for someone who thinks and feels deeply, but speaks slowly, to find themselves in a situation where they feel cornered, put on the spot.  The way I express myself in that situation is less reminiscent of the me that has worked to heal, to grow, over the last five years, and more reminiscent of me as a terrified child.  In those sorts of situations I generally can't speak without crying, and my filters of appropriate behavior don't work quite as well as I wish they would.  And cry I did.  Multiple times over. With an audience.  I spoke in ways that weren't as diplomatic or caring as I would have preferred, and I felt forced into speaking in those sorts of ways while an instructor was present.  It was pretty much my nightmare, and I spent a good deal of the weekend processing it.

I'm still processing it.  I've moved from being shell-shocked to angry, and maybe, just a little bit, in the last day or so, to a sort of tired resignation.  There are 8.5 days of classes left in the semester.  I actually wasn't counting, but a friend is, and she shared that number.  That number made me smile.  The end of this first phase of my nursing education is in sight.

I spent a lot of the weekend wondering if I was cut out for this - if I misheard as I listened and prayed and sought God's heart those few years back, when I was suddenly out of work and needing to know what I "wanted to be when I grew up."  It's a terrible feeling, to be so discouraged that something you've invested so much of yourself into is called into question.  I spent two years working to get in to this program, and ten weeks in, I've spent a number of days asking myself if that is a mistake.  Asking myself if I will be a failure as a nurse.

I was all set, in my ponderings this week to end this post in that place - in that place of wondering and discouragement.  But on Sunday I watched a DVD about birth that a midwife friend loaned to me.  Something about that video spoke to my heart, reminding me of a piece of why I'm taking this program. (Have I mentioned that I am exploring and very interested in working in a clinic overseas somewhere, and doing midwifery training while using my nursing skills?)  That reminder dissipated quickly on Tuesday, when I literally went home and cried (I wasn't the only one from my group, either.  Our sarcastic comments about tears and needing wine at the beginning of the semester are fast giving way to reality!)  Wednesday was just a little bit better.  It brought reasons to smile - things like bubble baths, news of a new honorary nephew's arrival, and a day at school that wasn't quite as hard.  It had text messages that reminded me that I am upheld in prayer, and it had a chance to gather with some leaders from other house churches.  It even had a few unexpected minutes of quiet to simply sit.

I don't know what the rest of the 8.5 days of class remaining will hold, I really don't.  I'd be lying if I said that there isn't a part of me working hard not to dread them.  But there is a bigger part of me that is continually reminded and reminding myself that I am where I am supposed to be.  That stretching hurts but results in growth.  That things will not always be like this.  And that I am made to do this - to work in profession that promotes healing, caring and compassion.  And some days I have to remind myself of that.  That and the fact that I have done lots of hard work to get to where I am.  That I am only responsible for my own words and choices, and though they're hurtful at times, I can't own what others say and do.  That I am coming more fully all the time into who I am created to be.  And that I am allowed to be independent, to think and feel deeply, and sometimes even to disagree.  And that that's okay.  Because there, too, I only own me - no one else.

So, I head into this day praying for joy, and feeling just a bit more bolstered in that than I have some days this week.  It's a long day, 8-10 hours of group work, actually, and that scares me just a little, but I'm ready.  My heart is reveling in a picture of a new little boy, in the encouraging words of people who know me, in the knowledge that I am loved, and that self reminders of God's calling and work in my life. I'm going to live this day in the best way I can - honestly, richly, and deeply, leaning into the reminder that (like a sermon I listened to yesterday said) "I am Jesus' favorite."  That silly little phrase makes me smile, and that alone makes it worth leaning into.

Revisiting Nursing School (nine weeks in)

If you had asked me the week before reading break how nursing school was going, I'd have told you that while I still didn't love it, I was starting to feel like I was settling into a rhythm with it.  That I wasn't coming home quite as exhausted from the countless hours of group work, and it wasn't taking the whole three day weekend each week to recover enough energy to force myself out of bed on Tuesday mornings and go back to school.

I might have spoken too soon.

This last week, the first week back after reading week, was rough.

It held a midterm, an in class paper, and lots and lots (as always) of group work.

The paper went smoothly.  The midterm not so much.

There is nothing as frustrating to me as an exam that is designed to test if you can think like a professor, rather than if you've actually understood and internalized the material through a process of learning and critical evaluation.  Historically I've been a fan of multiple choice testing.  The principle being that the correct answer is one of the options right in front of you and you have to have prepared enough to narrow down the options and then choose the correct one.  This exam, well, it wasn't like that.  If this exam had been a short-answer test, on many of the questions you could have made a convincing case for three of the four options.  Since it wasn't a short answer question, you had to choose the "best answer."  The problem with that is that you needed to guess which one the professor thought was the right answer.  Other questions were designed to be tricky, with plays on words and needing to be able to pick out things like "malificence" was a wrong answer because to be right it should have said "non-malificence." The correct answer hinged on your ability to pick out the fact that the professor had deliberately left out three letters and a hyphen.

When I'd finished the sixty questions, I sat and commiserated with a couple of friends, and we eventually decided to drown our sorrows in carbohydrates.  We landed ourselves in the campus pub at 11am, talked ourselves out of ordering alcohol and ordered big plates of hamburgers and fries instead.  The carbs served their purpose and temporarily soothed my grouchy soul.

And then there was the group work.  Apparently a week spent away from it, in quiet, tore down any built-up levels of tolerance.  Let me say right up front that I really enjoy the individuals in my group.  I like the mix of personalities most of the time, and I like each of them as individuals.  But this week was exhausting and some of the activities reminded me of the principle that sometimes it is better to internalize honesty, rather than bluntly speaking your mind.  Before reading break, an hour of cleaning on Friday evening was usually enough to allow me to separate myself from the exhaustion of the week and settle into rest.  This last week, that simply didn't happen.  By Sunday afternoon I was still feeling exhausted and drained, dreading the return to this method of study that is the hardest for my introverted, formerly homeschooled, independent learning self.  I am reminding myself of a long conversation I had at the beginning of the semester with a trusted advisor about coping strategies for group work, and promising myself that I will do a better job of incorporating them in the week ahead.  I'm also reminding myself of the need to spend time with people who really understand, and I'm looking forward to a couple of "dates" with good friends in the coming week, including a skype date with my closest friend, who is also doing this "mature" student thing, albeit on the other side of the planet.

I find myself wondering, sometimes, if I polled a group of practicing nurses, how many of them would say that this group work that is so common in nursing education actually prepared them for their jobs.  I know a lot of practicing nurses, and we've had cursory conversations on this topic that would seem to indicate that many of them are as in the dark as I am as to why this was considered the best method of educating us.

And y'all, it didn't help that the focus of this last week was on tolerance.  I'm not sure this is a safe topic to wade into on the wide open field of the internet, but I happen to believe that my love for Jesus means that I need to love people the way he did - unconditionally.  That means that I can disagree with various parts of their lifestyles and still care for them.  I think that that means that as a Christian, I should be the most tolerant and caring person around.  I know that I fail at this sometimes, but it's what I really do aim for.  Why is it that a faith that teaches me to love is one that is stereotyped as uncaring?  I spent the week feeling more and more frustrated with the instruction.  Feeling like I was being told at every turn that it is wrong to have specific beliefs, and most certainly wrong to express them.  Ironically, we spent a good deal of time at house church on Thursday night discussing a topic that was then central to the lecture I attended on Friday morning.  With the way the week had been going, I texted a friend commenting on God's timing that this topic would pop up after the discussion we'd had the night before, and then asked if she would pray, as I was trying hard to absorb the information so that I could critically evaluate it, but was instead finding myself reacting to what felt like a blatant attack on the worldview that has been shaped by my faith.  My friend's response was helpful - she acknowledged that this was a tough spot to find myself in, didn't minimize, and told me that she'd pray that God's spirit would enable me to respond in love.

Her response sits with me even now.  As I look at the week ahead, while still sitting in the midst of the frustrations from the week that just passed, I find myself thinking about the truth that love needs to be my default response.  That all my opinions, all my words, all my actions need to come from that place of love.  That I need to consciously temper my frustrations with love.  That I need to see others with eyes shaped by love.  And that I need God's spirit to enable all of that, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and week by week.  And so that is my prayer, and my prayer request this week - that I would know God's spirit within me, opening my eyes to love more deeply and to respond only from that place.

Learning to Juggle

Most days, I wake up grouchy at the alarm that dared wake me at 5:30 am, a full 3 hours before there will be daylight in these winter months.  By the time I make it to the bus, though, it has usually hit me that I am up at this rather unholy hour because I am finally in nursing school.  Eight weeks into the program, that still amazes me almost every day.

It has not, by any means, been a bump free transition from the year and a half of working and waiting, and the month off over the Christmas holidays, to the daily schedule of student life.  If you ask me to describe the more, umm, creative learning activities, I'll preface them with a statement that begins, "I think we were supposed to learn..."  The fact that I am paying thousands of dollars each semester in tuition and must preface my descriptions of learning activities in such a manner is, well, a point of tension in my life to say the least.  The fact that these activities regularly resemble junior high social studies class?  Well that's definitely the icing on the cake.

Most days, though, if I stop for a few minutes, and sit quietly on the bus at the end of the day, I go back to the amazement that marked my mornings.  The slightly stunned feeling that after a year and a half of waiting, of risking my heart hurting by longing for this, it's happening!  I am learning things like administering vaccinations, and taking blood pressure readings.  Granted, the method of learning might sometimes include a slightly twisted version of charades (read: my idea of hell), but I'm learning!

I've been thinking about all of this this week, while I'm at home, reading, doing homework, and preparing to dive back in to the second half of the semester.  I've been thinking about all sorts of things that deserve (and will eventually get) posts of their own.  Things like longing and fulfilment, like coming into my own skin, like this odd new voice that sometimes leaps out from inside of me and begins to speak.

But this week I'm particularly thinking about school, and about my one word for the year, still.  I'm thinking about how I sometimes feel resentment about my school schedule, and the demands that it places on my introverted self.  How I resent the decisions and prioritizing that it forces.

I was thinking about it yesterday as I contemplated the merits of silence, versus the desire to catch up on some favorite television shows.  I thought about it as I pondered sitting in stillness versus doing some homework, and doing that homework versus catching up on my friends in bloggyland, whose writing I've fallen hopelessly behind on once again.  I was thinking about it as I pondered the dozens of times I've had to consider whether or not I could say yes to an invitation from close friends, knowing that I need to conserve the energy that time with people requires of me, so that I can make it through a week of classes and the hours and hours of group work each day.

I don't like being forced to choose, to prioritize.  I want it all.  I want to be in school, but still have ample time for quiet and stillness.  I want to have the stillness, but stay caught up on my favorite blogs and television shows.  I want to be with my closest friends unfettered, without having to consider that saying no to them just might be the way I make it through to Friday without melting into a puddle of tears at the end of the day.

It's fascinating to me how different it is to live in the reality of something, rather than my idealized expectations of it.  I didn't think about the demands that nursing school would place on me.  I just followed my heart into the direction it felt Jesus leading.  I didn't think about the challenge of the word "still" as I headed into a year where my schedule would be more full than it has been in the last five years, I just followed that Jesus voice inside me again.  And reality is different than ideal.  It's more explored, and it comes with tensions and tradeoffs.  It comes with its own beauties, and its own raw places.

And so it was that yesterday I juggled.  I watched a little bit of TV, did some homework, and sat for a bit in quiet.  I lit a few candles and tried to let my heart lead the way, asking myself and Jesus continuously what it was that I needed in that moment.  Did I need to write?  Could I do that with something playing in the background, or did my heart crave silence?  Could I head out to see some extra people, or do some errands, or did I need to sit quietly at home?  It's new to me, this juggling, this sitting in this particular tension that comes between the reality of two callings in my heart - one to the demands of school, and one to my word and to stillness.  And so I juggle, and I learn the importance of checking in regularly with myself and with Jesus.  And slowly, oh so slowly, even when sometimes it looks like acknowledging that I feel just a bit resentful over these forced choices, I am making my way forward.

Daily 5 - Year 3, Day 178

Today's Daily 5:

1. String cheese
2. a friend who made sure that a group meeting didn't wallow in unproductivity
3. still really loving turkey and cranberry sandwiches on Winnipeg Rye Bread
4. at least a partial solution to one of the big problems that popped up last week
5. the laughter that came with our first attempts to find heart rates and blood pressure readings.  We're pretty sure we were all "dead" at quite a number of points, thanks to our lack of skills in locating those important indicators of life.

Feminism, Nursing Classes, and Jesus

I've found myself thinking a lot about feminism over the last week or so.  I suppose it's a bit of an inevitable topic when you're enrolled in a program that has a student body that is something like 90% female.  Particularly when you have to sit through lectures that emphasize that the most important part of nursing is not the care we give to our patients, but the specific scientific education and skills that we bring to the table.

Can I whisper a secret to you?

I don't identify myself as a feminist.

Whew.  I'm glad I got that off my chest.  Are you still with me? Still breathing?  Not going to attack me?

Early in the days of my first university degree, I shared that secret with a classmate as we rode the bus together.  She attacked me.  "Well then why are you in university?"

"Excuse me?"

"You wouldn't be able to get a higher education if it wasn't for feminism!"

Sigh.

As someone who is currently embarking on the journey to a second university degree and a professional designation, let me say that I'm thankful for those who blazed the way for me to participate in educational opportunities.  As someone who is headed into a profession that has been predominantly the field of women for the last couple of centuries, I'm grateful for the women who paved the way and established themselves as respected leaders in the field.

But I still don't identify as a feminist.

I texted a friend during a particularly feminist in slant class last week, and commented, "I'm all for equality of men and women, but I sure don't subscribe to the view that women are better, and I don't think that women should rule the world."

We laughed, since she is trained in a female dominated profession, but currently working in a male dominated profession, and just that morning had completed a task that she would have been more than happy to pass off to a man.

Can I tell you another secret?

I think men and women are different, and that there are things that women generally do better than men, and things that men generally do better than women.

I'm not actually all that into traditional gender roles. And I'm not really going to talk about them in this post.

What I actually wanted to talk about is the fact that I feel like a failure, sometimes, as a woman, by not identifying with feminism.  By not picking the female candidate for a job or in an election, just because she's a woman.  For believing that things like jobs and elections need to be about skills, giftings, education and qualifications, and not about gender.

The class that stirred this quagmire within me carried on, and the professor mentioned several times that the thing responsible for this incredible subjugation of women is "European Christianity".

Sigh.

My already tumultuous insides began to ache in earnest.  As a historian, I can tell you that this is an unbalanced opinion.  That yes, at times Christianity has been responsible for the subjugation of women, but that it has also empowered women throughout history in incredible ways.  And more than that, the Jesus I've fallen more and more in love with over the last couple years, well, he loved and empowered women.

I found myself thinking again of a poem titled "The Woman's Creed" written in 1978 by Rachel Conrad Wahlberg that I've shared here before.  As I pondered feminism, nursing classes and Jesus this week, I felt it worth reposting Walhberg's poem, because it so beautifully reflects the Jesus I've come to know, and his heart towards me as a woman.


I believe in God
who created woman and man in God's own image
who created the world
and gave both sexes
the care of the earth.

I believe in Jesus
child of God
chosen of God
born of the woman Mary
who listened to women and liked them
who stayed in their homes
who discussed the Kingdom with them
who was followed and financed
by women disciples.

I believe in Jesus
who discussed theology with a woman at a well
and first confided in her
his messiahship
who motivated her to go and tell
her great news to the city.

I believe in Jesus who received anointing
from a woman at Simon's house
who rebuked the men guests who scorned her
I believe in Jesus
who said this woman will be remembered
for what she did -
minister to Jesus.

I believe in Jesus
who acted boldly
to reject the blood taboo
of ancient societies
by healing the audacious woman who touched him.

I believe in Jesus who healed a woman
on the sabbath
and made her straight
because she was
a human being.

I believe in Jesus
who spoke of God
as a woman seeking the lost coin
as a woman who swept
seeking the lost.

I believe in Jesus
who thought of pregnancy and birth
with reverence
not as punishment - but
as wrenching event
a metaphor for transformation
born again
anguish-into-joy.

I believe in Jesus
who spoke of himself
as a mother hen
who would gather her chicks
under her wings.

I believe in Jesus who appeared
first to Mary Magdalene
who sent her with the bursting message
GO AND TELL...

I believe in the wholeness
of the Savior
in whom there is neither
Jew nor Greek
slave nor free
male nor female
for we are all one
in salvation.

I believe in the Holy Spirit
as she moves over the waters
of creation
and over the earth.

I believe in the Holy Spirit
as she yearns within us
to pray for those things
too deep for words.

I believe in the Holy Spirit
the woman spirit of God*
who like a hen
created us
and gave us birth
and covers us
with her wings.

*the Hebrew word for Spirit is feminine

Monday Musings

I've been staring at this blank screen for a while, wondering what to say in this space today.

I could tell you about school, but nothing particularly worth reporting occurred in the last week or so.  We worked in groups for four to five hours a day.  I didn't kill anyone (or feel particularly inclined to, for that matter.)  I gave a mandarin orange multiple injections.  I learned that influenza that you are vaccinated for, is NOT the same as the stomach flu bugs that make the rounds each and every year.  I finished the week tired, worn out from all of the constant noise and interaction, but maybe not quite so tired as the previous weeks.  Maybe, just maybe, I will find a rhythm in this that works for me yet!

I could talk to you about food, and eating disorders, and body image, and how Jesus is speaking and moving and challenging my heart in all of these things.  But these are things that are still fresh, that still have words forming, and even as I tell you that I could talk about these things, my heart knows that it is too soon, and that any attempt to write them out would be stilted and clumsy, and would prematurely expose the precious bits of my heart that are being shaped in these areas.

In the same way, I could talk to you about ministry, about leadership, about encouraging words from a friend.  All of these are topics where Jesus is speaking, where odd things are emerging and making themselves known within me.  And it would be premature to do more than name the existence of any of them.

I guess what I'm saying is that Jesus is working, and I'm finding myself in the position of waiting and listening to the new voices and spaces emerging within me, rather than expressing those things outwardly.  It's not a bad place to be, really.  It's peaceful, and quiet here, as I wait and watch and listen.  And I am thankful for these signs of life within me.  It makes for odd, cryptic, and quiet blog posts, but it does lovely things in my heart.

Group Work Might Be The Death of Me

Week two of nursing school has come and gone, and the title of this post summarizes the prevailing thought in my head for the week.  If you are a kinesthetic and social learner, than nursing school as I'm experiencing it just might be your perfect fit.  Since I am neither, it is a challenge.  It's not an academic challenge, it's a deeply personal one.

I am spending four to five hours a day working in small groups, with tons of interaction.  It's draining for my introverted self, and by Friday afternoon, I am finding myself completely exhausted.  (Let me add here that I really enjoy the people in the group that I am working with, and I am making friends.  I appreciate these people, and my exhaustion doesn't reflect on them, it's completely a reflection of my personality and learning styles.)  When Friday arrived, I was so happy to get on a bus, and finally arrive at home.  When I got on the bus, all I could think was "If I don't ever see another human, I'd be okay with that right now."  I didn't turn on music or television when I got home, the way I normally would.  I sat in the quiet, sinking onto the edge of my bed.  Slowly, as I made some dinner, sat in the quiet, did a bit of laundry, and tackled some organizational stuff that needed to be done, the exhaustion abated, and I started feeling human again.

The kinesthetic learning that I mentioned is challenging for me as well.  I was excited when our clinical instructor told us that we would spend an hour that afternoon reviewing everything we'd learned thus far.  "Finally," I thought, "I'll make some succinct notes, and gain some clarity."  Nope.  The review involved taping a term to each of our backs, and having us ask questions to discover what the term taped to us was.  Then we stuck the terms to the walls all around the room, and took yarn, stringing the terms together, demonstrating their intensely interconnected state, and resulting in a mission impossible sort of maze of yarn to navigate on our way back to our seats.  It was a helpful visual in terms of illustrating the interconnectedness of the terms.  It was completely unhelpful in terms of abating the confusion over the meaning of many of the terms.  Looking back, I can't help but laugh.  Clearly I'm going to have to figure out some independent study strategies, since it would seem thus far that nursing school is not geared to highly auditory learners like me!

And so, in week two I find myself challenged again by my word for 2012.  Still.  It's hard to be still when every moment of the day is noisy and filled with conversation and people.  I'm finding it challenging to still have energy at the end of the day to interact with my close friends and family.  The people who feed my soul.  And so, I am quietly considering my commitments, and my habits, finding ways to embrace stillness.  Finding ways to be still even when I'm working at home.  And I'm actively seeking coping strategies to make the constant group interaction a more fulfilling and less draining component of my week.

Reflecting on the First Week of Nursing School

It's kind of a weird thing to have a first day of school in an undergraduate program when you're a lot closer to thirty years old than to eighteen.  Fun, but kind of weird.  Thankfully, the program I'm in is one where the majority of students are closer to my age than eighteen.  There are a few who did a year or so of university, and transferred in, the students who are 20-22 years old (and you can tell which ones they are), but most of the students have similar stories to me - we studied something else, worked for a while, and we're entering nursing with a certainty that this is where we're supposed to be.  A certainty that I think can sometimes be hard to have when you're 20.

I had the fun of picking out my first day of school outfit, and the fun of the anticipation of realizing all over again that this dream is finally happening for me.  I went with a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and boots in case you were wondering - deciding that comfort trumped fashion sense for classes that start at 8 am.

And that's another thing.  I have to be at the university campus for 8 am four days a week.  I live at the opposite end of the city from the university, which means I'm back to rolling out of bed at 5:30, and catching the bus at 6:30.  Not the most ideal study schedule for this night owl who truly believes that nothing of consequence should happen before 10:00 am!  (Definitely something I'm going to have to get used to, though, since by 10:00 am, my lectures are two thirds over!)

The expectations were high, and the first day met them.  The morning theory lecturer seemed like she would be a good communicator, and the afternoon, well, the afternoon was pretty cool.  Tuesday afternoons for three hours, we get to learn practical skills.  They're pretty much the only practical skills in the whole semester, so I fully intend to cherish those three hour time blocks.  In the first week, we spent about two-thirds of that block learning about asepsis, and hand-washing.  The last while we learned how to properly remove soiled gloves, and how to assemble a syringe.  We may even get the chance to do some school vaccinations in a few weeks!  (Which, by the way, makes me laugh!  The only human patient I'm liable to see this semester, and my job will be to inflict pain!  Too funny!)

If I'm honest, the first week was confusing.  The material in each of the four classes seems to hopelessly overlap, and the clinical placement for the semester is the least defined of any that we'll encounter over the course of the degree.  I'm taking comfort in the fact that in talking to other students, everyone is confused, and even our clinical instructors are telling us that it's quite normal to be confused at this point, and that it will become clearer as the weeks progress.

My other observation would be that nursing school is apparently going to involve a whole lot of group work, random games, and everyone talking at once.  In my first week I speed dated ten other women, played the part of an affluent politician on a version of Survivor and was promptly voted off the island to meet my death at the hands of a zombie apocalypse, and survived a day with close to six hours of 19 women and one man talking all at once.  It was a little bit nuts, and hard on my introverted, prefers one on one or very small group interaction self.

And then there's this - after the first week, I find myself grappling with my One Word for the year.  My word is "still" - a word that fits my reflective, introverted heart well.  A word that is easy to live when there aren't other demands on my time.  A word that is easy to live when I have hours a day to engage in creativity - to read, to write, to sew, to cook, to knit, and to reflect.  It's not a word that's quite as easy to live when 8 hours a day are spent in the company of others, and at least half of those are spent in the course of constant interaction with others, and largish groups.

After only one week, I am realizing that I will need to prioritize my life.  That there will be times when I will need to say no to meeting with friends I truly love, in favor of valuing my need for rest and stillness. That I will need to create ways to maintain health - to exercise and eat well.  That many things will have to be assessed in terms of whether they will give or drain life and energy.  Thankfully, most of the things that are priorities in my life outside of school have already been assessed in that manner - that's how they have become priorities.  I am realizing, though, that the rigorous school schedule is going to require me to develop discipline in new ways.  To learn to rest more actively - to procrastinate less, and do the things that feed my soul without frittering away an hour online or watching a video first.

I'm cautiously excited.  There are things that scare and frustrate me, and there are things that make my heart sing, and I am learning, even after only one week, to balance them inside me, and grow stronger, heal more deeply, and tell a better story.  I am learning to live all of my One Word's from the last several years in new ways, and that thought causes an involuntary smile to spread across my face.

Friday Thoughts!

I'm curled up in a chair, in the sunshine, with a movie playing in the background.  I have lists to make and things to do, but I wanted to stop in here first!

Orientation yesterday, was, well, boring!  But, it totally hit home that I'm starting classes on Tuesday - that my nursing dream and goal is becoming a reality!  So cool.

So, today I have lists to make - things that need to be done this weekend, mostly.  Things like shortening the scrub pants I bought yesterday - the pants that are currently long enough that if I want them to touch the floor, I need to hold the waistband at armpit level.  Things like reading and cleaning and organizing and sleeping.  Things like watching the newest episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice.  And things like taking a CPR course.

It's going to be a good weekend - to rest and recoup, and to fully prepare myself to dive in with my whole being on Tuesday.

Big News

I sent out this update email yesterday to some dear friends who have been praying for me over the last couple years, and I wanted to share this exciting news here as well!

Hi All!

I thought I would send out an overdue update.

Let me start with some fabulous news!  I was accepted into the nursing program at the University of Calgary, with the program beginning this coming January!  That's right - after a year and a half of waiting and praying, and three application attempts, this dream is happening for me, and I'm thrilled.  Honestly, though the waiting has been terrifically hard, I feel like I am a stronger and more whole person because of the way that Jesus has worked in my life in the intervening time of waiting, and I can't wait to see where things go with this program.  I was accepted into the 28 month program, so, for the next 28 months, studying will be commanding the majority of my time.  I'm looking forward to the challenge.

I wanted to thank all of you for praying for me as I've waited and wondered what would come next, and ask you to pray about a few specific things for the coming year.

First, would you pray for my housing situation?  As most of you know, I've been living in my grandma's basement for almost two years now, and it is not an ideal situation.  Now that I know what my plans will be for the next couple years, I'm going to actively pursue the process of finding an alternate living arrangement.  This will likely look either like having roommates, or finding something that I will be able to afford on my own while in school.  If I'm honest, I'm really dreaming about having a little space that is all my own - after the challenges life has thrown my way in the last couple years, a little retreat all my own would be fabulous.  That said, I'm open to whatever Jesus drops in my lap (and if any of you know of possibilities, definitely let me know!)

Second, would you pray for employment?  I'm employed on a temp contract through December (exact end date is still uncertain).  After that, I will need to find some part time employment to supplement my income while I am a student.  I'm hoping to find something that will pay well, and be flexible around what I know is a fairly intense school schedule.  Please pray that I would find just the right thing to help cover my costs for this next season.

And finally, would you pray for me as I dive into studying again?  Pray that I will be diligent, that my mind will be clear, that I will absorb and understand the material quickly and easily.

I'd love to hear from all of you and get an update on your lives as well!  Let me know how I can be praying for each of you as well!

Much love and hugs to all of you!

Lisa

You Ask, I Answer, Take 2

It's time for the second installment of "You Ask, I Answer."  You can expect these posts to show up on Tuesdays and Thursdays for as long as I have questions to answer, so keep them coming!  I'm totally having fun reading the list of questions and pondering my answers to them.  I think you're going to learn all sorts of things that you never knew about me!

Today's installment comes from Johanna in Germany, who asked:

What job (profession) did you want to have (when you are grown up) when you were a child?

I had to think hard about answering this one, Johanna!

I wasn't one of those kids who dreamt a lot about reality!  I really didn't spend much time thinking about what I'd be when I grew up.  I tended to live in imaginary worlds that I had created and fill the shoes of characters I created, and I didn't often think about what the actual future would be like!

At various times I wanted to be a doctor, a nurse, the owner/trainer on a huge equestrian farm, a writer, an olympic synchronized swimmer, a counselor, and a teacher.

The biggest ones, and the characters that tended to show up in all of my imaginary worlds were always medical.

A few of those made the actual careers list.

When I started university for the first time, and began my history degree, I was convinced that I would graduate with my bachelor's degree in history, and then pursue a teaching degree (in Alberta you take a two year after degree to become a teacher) and spend my life teaching high school social studies.  I considered other options, but after enrolling in a highly academic high school that reinforced that I excelled easily at subjects like English literature and history, and less easily in sciences, I was convinced that I wasn't a "sciency" person, so my childhood fascination with all things medical (which, by the way continued in my long term love of pretty much ALL medical television dramas and comedies) was set aside in favor of history.

At some point, midway through that first degree I realized that I really don't enjoy teaching in a large group setting, and that teaching wasn't what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.  I decided (since I'd already invested so much time and money, and wasn't sure which direction I would ultimately go) to finish up the degree in history, and while it wasn't the most practical degree, I haven't regretted it.  I loved the time I spent studying, particularly since I focused on church history, and it very much informed my faith and spirituality.

These days, after three years of working for a small insurance company, losing my job, and all the bumps and bends in the road that the last year has held, I'm pursuing schooling again, and this time I'm going back to that childhood dream and working on getting accepted into a nursing program.  I also still dream of one day getting a masters degree in counseling, simply to round out my ability to help people on a physical, emotional and spiritual level.

An Update On Where Things Are At

I haven't talked much about my plans to pursue nursing for a while.  That's because everything has been up in the air as I waited to see if I was accepted into the program this go around.  I finally heard yesterday, and below is the email update I sent out to friends:

Hi All,

So, I finally talked to the nursing department today and confirmed what I'd already guessed - I was not accepted into the nursing program for this go round.  Instead, I've spent a good portion of the day sorting out the details around registering in classes as an "open studies" (basically undeclared) student, with the hopes that taking these classes will bring my GPA up enough to be accepted into nursing for a September entry. 

If I'm really honest, I'm fairly disappointed, and hurting a bit, but I still feel mostly peaceful.  I still believe that nursing is the path that God has directed me towards, and I believe that it will happen in his timing.

I'm choosing to see the five classes that I've enrolled in as simply a necessary step towards nursing.  In some ways, I feel like this is still God's way of creating time around me to continue to heal and become strong and whole before diving into the challenges of studying towards a new career path.

Please pray for me, too, as I begin to study.  Pray for diligence in me as I work, and for the ability to really retain and understand the material in the courses I'm taking.  There is a definite need to perform well in these classes in order that they do actually pull up my GPA and allow me to be admitted to nursing.

The rest of my life remains very much up in the air.  My short term contract at the Mustard Seed came to an end at the end of December, and I'll once again be looking for a job.  Please pray that the right job would present itself - one that will meet my financial needs, but will still allow me to devote the time necessary to study successfully.

And, my living situation remains incredibly tenuous.  I most definitely need to relocate out of Grandma's house, but my ability to do so will depend to a large extent on where I end up working, and what my income is.  Because I don't own a car, I'll also need to find something affordable that is easily accessible by public transit.  You can pray that the right living situation would also present itself to me.

I'd love to hear how each of you are doing, and I so appreciate your friendship and your prayers.

Much love to all of you!

Lisa

Reverb 10: Day 28 - Achieve

Today's Reverb 10 Prompt:

December 28 – Achieve

What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.

(Author: Tara Sophia Mohr)

I'm not a big achievement driven person.  At all.  In fact, I'm quite possibly the least motivated by competition, winning, and achievement person that you'll ever meet.

It's why I generally hate games. (Among other things, anyway.)  I just don't care about the outcome.

That said, when I read this prompt, an answer immediately sprang to mind.

The thing I would most like to achieve in 2011 is to be admitted to nursing school.

That will hopefully happen either in the first week of 2011 (possibly requiring a miracle), or it will possibly happen in September.

I don't know, honestly, what I'll feel, when that happens, other than perhaps relief and joy.  And maybe some excitement.

And that combination of feelings, well, it's not one I really want to experience today, or every day, so the part of this prompt that suggested I brainstorm ways to replicate that feeling (can you replicate something that hasn't happened yet?) is the part of the prompt that I am going to ignore.

Reverb 10: Day 13 - Action (What's Next?)

Today's Reverb 10 prompt:

December 13 – Action

When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step?

(Author: Scott Belsky)


What's next? If that isn't a loaded question in my life these days, I don't know what is.

The answer is, I mostly still don't know.

I know that I will be a nursing student at some point in the future. What I don't know is if that will be in 4 weeks, or more like 9 months. (Wait lists are a somewhat nerve racking thing, and in this case we're praying for a miracle spot in the program to open up sometime before January 6th or so.)

I know with some degree of certainty that whether or not I'm accepted into the nursing program, I will be enrolled in classes at the local university come January. I know that I will either be in the nursing program, or that I will be taking 2-3 as yet undetermined classes to pull up my GPA and make the next application to the nursing program a smoother process.

I know that my living situation needs to change, but I also know that my living situation is contingent upon my job and income situation, which is contingent upon finding out what exactly my school situation will be come January!

Clear as mud, right?

The short answer to "what's next?" is "I don't really know."

And so I continue to wait and watch and pray. Some days more patiently than others!

Final Push

This is it.  Final push day.

In case you haven't guessed, most of the posts happening this week were scheduled on the weekend.  This is the crazy week.  Two finals, a quiz and an assignment.  And then I'll be done.

Yesterday I wrote the first final (stats) and was pleased with how it went.  I also submitted the assignment that I'd completed the day before, and I did the final anatomy quiz.  (Not stellar, but better than I'd hoped, I think.)

What's left is my anatomy final, tomorrow afternoon.  This is a class with pages and pages and pages of very detailed notes to cover, and my brain has been exhausted.  It's really just too much information to absorb.  But this is it, and I have a plan, involving chapter by chapter review, and answering lots and lots of multiple choice questions.  Today, I feel relatively peaceful.  I know myself well, and I'm quite aware that that could change as the day goes on, and as I hit roadblocks that demonstrate how much I DON'T know in certain areas. 

I've been reminding myself all week to be gentle with myself.  To offer the best that I have to this school work, and to be okay when the best means that it's less than I know I have been capable of at other points in my life.  To not feel guilty for the fact that I've needed naps every day this week so far, and that I've lost a precious four or five hours of studying to those naps.  I've already acknowledged to myself this morning that I will likely need to nap today, as well.  And I've reminded myself that it is okay to take the evening off, and not study, study, study until bedtime.

Tomorrow morning I'll do some final review and then I'll write the exam.  And then the rest of my day will be full.

But, in the meantime, I'm doing a little bit of puttering.  Settling myself in for the day.  Writing this blog post.  Tackling a bunch of little online tasks - some fun stuff, and some things that are just part of the daily routine.  I'm eating breakfast.  And I'm telling myself that I'm going to do my very best to hang onto this "calm before the storm" feeling, even when the storm starts in earnest. 

I'd appreciate your prayers as I study today and tomorrow morning, and as I write the exam tomorrow afternoon. 

And, I'll be back, with some scheduled and some unscheduled posts through the next several days as well!  See you then!