2016: The Year of Firsts

Oh, 2016. 
I dub thee the year of firsts.

In order-ish:

First year of marriage.
First year of working with retired nuns - I needed a break from the hospital life and boy did I get one! 
First year of husband getting diagnosed with cancer.
First year of a lot of tears.
First year of radiation everyday for 5 weeks.
First year of being told we won't be able to have our own kids.
First year of surgery and hospital stay.
First year of getting a cancer-cat (a cat you get when you have cancer).
First year of truly experiencing what community means within the church - finding friends outside of the church that are part of THE church. 
First year of having in-laws live with us for a month and half and LOVING EVERY BIT OF IT EVEN THOUGH THEY DON'T BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY I LOVE IT, smh.
First year of $300,000 in medical expenses. Yes, that's why health insurance is so important AND there are people who cannot afford it. And yes, inserting a #healthcareissue here.
First year of husband becoming a sarcoma-cancer survivor, yay! - way to beat cancer's ass, babe!
First year of a Trump-ed presidency (don't be surprised, you know you saw that coming).
First year of officially turning old - 30 - and experiencing the "that didn't hurt before."


Oh, 2016. You were a roller coaster of emotions. 

We walked into it looking forward to celebrating our first year of marriage and thinking about changing jobs and moving. 
Instead a few months later we found ourselves putting life on hold. 
Feeling unstable. uncertain. 
Exhausted. emotionally drained. 

When we look back on the past year there are couple of things we both are blown away by:

1. The hub's workplace was INCREDIBLY supportive of him. I 
    didn't realize this but it is hugely helpful and makes life A LOT 
    less stressful when your work supports you and helps you in 
    anyway they can. My workplace was also very supportive. Within 
    a few weeks of being hired I told them the news and the answer I 
    got was, "just let us know when you want to come back." I mean, 
    seriously. That's a big deal.

2. After his diagnosis in April '16, we felt very alone though we 
    talked/skyped/face-timed with family and friends. Every 
    month after his diagnosis and sometimes multiple times per  
    month we had our people stay with us. We didn't know it at the  
    time but it meant the world to both of us. We know these folks 
    could have done something else with their time and expenses but 
    they decided to travel and be with us knowing we wouldn't be 
    doing much.
   
We seemed to handle the year of firsts with calmness. 
And we know that that calmness comes from our faith. 
We both have a heavy past and have experienced the love, faithfulness and provision of our God.

So regardless of what life may bring us we know God is with us. Always walking beside us,
 In our lowest. 
 In our highest. 
 In our doubting. 
 And in our certainty.


P.S. I just realized after posting this that what happened to us in 2016 deserves to be in 2016, #twasashittyyear

Two Words

Cancer.Free.

Two words that couldn't make me happier. 

Two words that gave me the biggest sigh of relief in my life. 

You guys. The love of my life - no, not you, Natalie ;) - is officially cancer.free. 

So many nights. 
Sleepless nights. 
Tears.
Worries. 
Much anxiety. 
Pain in the depths of my soul thinking about living life without him. 
Nights just holding each other, trying not to think the worst.

Much unknown: 
How will surgery go? 
What will be the pathology report? 
Will he still have cancer? 
More surgery? 
Enough short term disability? 
More radiation? 
How will he transition to home? 
How long will his recovery be? 

Oncologist saying, "he should be here 3-4 days and we will go from there."

And then this: 

Him coming out of recovery. Getting to his room. Walking with physical therapy after being in surgery for three and a half hours, having had 4 inner thigh muscles removed. Next day: walking 300 ft and climbing 8.stairs. And then discharged home. 24 hours.Post surgery. 

AND THEN this: Oncologist calls us same day to tell us path report came in and he was officially cancer.free. 

Much. Surprise.
Much. Relief.
Much. Joy.
Much. Peace.
Much. Love.
Much. Support.
Much. Good. 
Much. 
God. 

I felt like I had been holding my breath for 4 months and was finally able to breathe. 


A walker for a few days. Climbing stairs on his own. Killing it with his physical therapy exercises.
He sees his oncologist after a week. We ask, "Is he doing freakishly well?" Replies, "I don't want to tempt the universe and I'm not superstitious but if I were I couldn't say that." A few minutes later, "yes. Yes, you are doing freakishly well. Knock on wood." 


I.love.my.husband. 

Strength.
Courage.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
Patient. 
Calm.
Brave.
Humble.
Cancer.Survivor.

The "C" word ("Cancer"...because why hold you in suspense?)

A couple of months ago my husband and I found out he had cancer.

We had been married for only 5 months. Not to mention him being so young. He said at one time, "Just the other day I was thinking to myself, 'I'm going to turn 30. I'm so old.' And now today I'm thinking, 'I'm going to turn 30. I'm so young.'" 

It's been a couple of months since we found out and we're doing ok. 

Do you know what the worst part of it was? WAITING. 

We walked around for 23 days not knowing the answer. Did he have cancer? Did he not have cancer? Those two questions repeated in our minds over and over again for 23 days. 

Feeling numb and like my heart was going to implode from all of the pain and worry I was feeling for someone I loved so much. 

I think about those I've known who have walked this path before. Those who are in the waiting period. Those who are walking it now. One doesn't truly know #allthefeels until you are walking through it yourself or with someone you love. I mean, I'm a nurse and do you know how many cancer patients I have taken care of but didn't really understand their emotions, grieving process and worries? A lot. 

It has changed my perspective about life and people. It has changed me as a whole person - in the way I think about life; those closest to me; and those I come in contact with. To be gentler. Kinder. More understanding.

I walk around and interact with people and think "You have no clue what I'm going through. And I have no clue what you are going through." Can we just give each other some grace? Actually, A LOT of grace? Thanks. Ok, end soap box.

It's hard. I remember I couldn't sleep. I was restless. I didn't want to be happy. I didn't want to socialize with anyone. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to cuss like a sailor in different accents (and I did and sometimes I still do). 

It's funny because while I was feeling these things - the one who does NOT have cancer, mind you - the hubs was calm, cool and collected. He joked that he was going to start a blog called, "My Cancer Wife - who doesn't have cancer."  

Laughter. One of the things we appreciate about each other is our sense of humor. It's a balm to our souls. A coping mechanism. A very welcomed coping mechanism.

I went back to read my journal and the things I wrote about the last couple of months:

One of the doctors was optimistic it wouldn't be cancer. ('Optimistic' was his word).

Begging through prayer it would not be cancer.

Getting the results of the MRI and at the very end, "consider sarcoma as primary consideration."

Consult with a radiation oncologist for biopsy.

Waiting for results.

A community of friends and faith-filled people being built around us. Praying with us, for us. 

Taking days to cry. To hold each other. 

Praying for peace and the faith to trust in God. 

Getting a PET scan.

God fulfilling us with peace and faith through all of this.

Getting the phone call telling us it was cancer.

I remember reading this a few days after,

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good..."

(I've literally read that hundreds of times. This time its meaning was so significant to me).

And writing,

"ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD. It may not be good (the thing itself: cancer) but God, You can work it into something good." 

We both attest to the good things that have happened. 

To big things such as him finding out he had small nodules in his lungs but the cancer had not metastasized and those nodules were tiny and common and benign. 

To the small things like getting avocados for 88 cents per pound at Walmart because they didn't put up the right sign (we got like 8 avocados for like $3...and we love our avocados). 

Both of those happened in the same day #justsayin

And we both attest to the bad things that have happened. Side effects of radiation to the skin. The unfairness of him being so young and healthy and this popping up out of nowhere (from somewhere but for now, from nowhere). One thing that is personal to us and I choose not to share at this time. 

Sometimes we choose joy. Sometimes we choose sadness. Sometimes we choose laughter. Sometimes we choose bitterness. Sometimes we choose peace. Sometimes we choose anger. And we both agree it's ok. It's ok for us to process our emotions as long as it is not destructive to ourselves or to each other or to others.

And it's ok for us to feel as though God is not perfect in all of His ways and for us because it's part of the grieving process. I know He will give me the faith to believe those things. But for the moment it's ok. 

All of this could change in an instant. 

For better or for worse. 

One thing I know for sure is that I have an incredible man to go through with all of this. 

I once wrote this about a man I could possibly dream of:

Honest about his struggles; in love with God; kind; gentle; smart; funny; a lover not a fighter; peacemaker; loves mom and her food along with Moe (my dog nephew) and sister....now that I'm writing this out I don't think he loves Moe...; didn't judge; quick to listen, slow to anger; willingness to change. 

My heart is so filled with overwhelming affection for my husband. A man filled with grace and strength.

My Childhood: Memories from Living a Life of Poverty

Poverty. 

The way a child views poverty is filled with faith - uncomplicated, simple faith.

After dad died, it was…rough.

I always knew we struggled financially but after the death of my father we struggled even more. I knew I wouldn’t get the things I wanted. It would be what I needed. Most of the time I was ok with that because I loved my family and my family loved me.

Love. 

I can feel that emotion, ‘love,’ very strongly even now.

We received monthly social security checks and food stamps. A family of 3 living off of less than $15,000/year. Most of our income went toward bills and paying off debt. And then $120-150/month in food stamps.

Food.

My mother always tried her best to stretch ingredients but oftentimes our meals were small and…whatever we could find. We would go to the local DCF every month and pick up our box of canned and boxed goods to supplement what we were able to buy with the food stamps. It was the cheapest of cheap foods. Sometimes dinners consisted of canned corn with mashed potatoes from a box. If I was feeling brave, I would cook up the canned salmon. Not sure to this day if it was really salmon...

I remember times when my sister and I would look around the house for loose change to buy a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk.

At the age of 10, I was worried about how and what we were going to eat.

I remember looking forward to school breakfasts and lunches but pretending to dislike it because I didn't want anyone to know I enjoyed it and didn’t have a filling meal the night before. 

Then there were days where we wondered how we would pay rent. Will we be homeless? Where will we live? Will family let us stay with them?

You may be thinking, “did you ask for help?” Sometimes. But we didn't want to ask because it was burdensome, embarrassing and shameful. 

It’s not, of course, but we thought that’s what people would think of us: burdensome, embarrassing and shameful.

I remember mummi washing our clothes in the bathtub and hanging it out to dry on the line. It had that outside smell - it didn’t smell fresh and clean like the other kids’ clothing. Sometimes we just wore the same clothes without washing it and made sure to wear it the next week so we weren’t picked on at school (kids can be cruel). 

I vividly remember standing before the Christmas tree and praying Santa would remember how good of a girl I had been. 

I would spill all of my wants to him: a bicycle; new clothes but just enough to get me through the week, it didn’t have to be too much, it never had to be too much; new shoes but just a couple;  a cool backpack; more money, maybe we could win the lottery somehow? and we would totally help other people in need we wouldn’t just keep it to ourselves; a new car or something we didn’t have to repair all the time because that costs money; all of the Indian ingredients and Indian things my mom could ever possibly want.

The list was long. A lot of it practical that benefited the family as a whole. 

I would always hope he would deliver and deliver well. I knew he wasn’t real but I wanted him to be real on Christmas day.

I remember having a lot of anger and bitterness that began around the age of 11. I would randomly start crying at school and need to talk with a counselor but didn't know what to say or how to say it.  I wanted to ask why. Why us? Why did he have to die? Why do we have to grow up so quickly? Why do I have to worry about adult things?  Why don't people help us (not many knew how desperate our situation was)? Why? It was like that little child that was always asking 'why' but never out loud only internally. Those unanswered 'why's' brewing in my heart and mind for years. Never talking about my emotions to anyone. Only internal dialogue. (Eventually I talked about it. Eventually the anger and bitterness turned into peace and forgiveness - for myself and others).

I remember I looked forward to school and church just to have a break from having to think about all of the problems we had at home and what was going on in my mind. 

We didn't have an earthly father but we did have a heavenly Father who took care of us. Whether it was through our family, friends, church, strangers and/or anonymous, our basic needs were provided for: food and shelter. 

When the question, "how are we gonna get through this month?" came up, at the last possible moment when we were at the very end of the rope, hopeless, God provided for us.

Always. I cannot remember a time where we went COMPLETELY without food or shelter. 

Our child-like faith was difficult to shake. 

Our dependence on one another and God grew into a love so deep that it became rooted into our core. Our soul. Our very being. 

My sister and I have talked about how we would not be the resilient, strong women we are today if we had not gone through what we did. We would not have the bond we have if we did not go through what we did.

The past is where we look to for strength in troubles we face nowadays. 

My sister.

What a beautiful soul. She endured so much. She has graciously allowed me to write about her. Here is a very small glimpse into her life at the time:

Not only did my sister have to return to school she also had to find a job (she had recently turned 16). She became: mother, father, daughter, sister, provider, teacher, mentor, money manager…let’s just say she was pretty much super woman.

Of what I remember, she did all of the dirty work. She took care of everything. In the beginning, when the situation was the worst we could imagine we didn’t know because she didn’t want us to worry.  

She took the worry upon herself. 

There are still things I find out to this day I didn’t know back then.

After graduating from high school, she worked part time, and went to school and took care of her mother and sister full time. Unfortunately, there were car problems and no extra money to fix it. So she had to drop out of school. She sacrificed her own desires, her FREEDOM, putting it on hold to take care of us. 

Her family. 

I remember her telling me that it was ok. She would go back to school eventually. That it would be best for us if she worked full time. Family was most important. Always.

That I better go to college, graduate, become rich and take care of her one day (that’s still in the works ;)). 

That’s the kind of person she is.

Selfless. 

If you're reading this and know her, do me a favor? Please give her a hug, high five, a card, send her a message, anything to show your appreciation of her because she is truly someone who deserves it :) 

When I think about living a life of poverty at a young age I remember not worrying but rather having simple faith. I remember wanting safety and security for my family and I. Not material things. I wanted us to love each other and for us to be happy where we were and with what we had. Not be sad because we lacked. I remember these things and hope I will hold fast to those same views throughout my adult life.

My Childhood: Death of a Patriarch

(I've been thinking about this for a while. Thinking about whether or not I should write about my childhood/life. Then whether or not I should write about it in my blog. It's one thing to write about my life in a journal. It's another if I write about it for the world to see. We all have stories of life to share that can help one another - good and bad. 

I've also been thinking about how this could bring about complete healing from my past. I often appreciate people's authenticity, honesty and openness and how it must give them some kind of freedom from their struggles - past or present. I know it has for me.)

Let's visit my 5 or 6 year old self and start from there. I felt like a victim for a long time, well into my young 20s. I think it's ok for a child to behave as such but only for so long. There must be healing and closing a chapter on life and moving forward. Please keep in mind I am remembering these memories from a young age and interpreting it as such - now that I am older, a little wiser and more mature, I interpret it to mean something much greater and cohesive and purposeful. 

Little Bela was a tom boy who loved to play outside, invent games, laugh, beat up boys and then use the excuse "I'm a girl so you can't hit me," be an annoying little sister, tell on people, and pretend to be sleeping so my puppa would pick me up and tuck me into bed all the while my sister glaring at me and telling him "she's not asleep." Those were some good memories. The years between 0-9 were some good, innocent, childhood memories (and some not so great - it wasn't perfect) that I cherish and hold fast to because my childhood ended abruptly.

Tragedy happened and my sister and I grew up very quickly at the tender ages of 10 and 15. My father died at the young age of 51 from a massive heart attack. The story: he went on a walk with his brother to our small town lake. He told my uncle he was tired and needed to sit down. They sat on a bench on the lake and he rested his head on his shoulder. My uncle thought he fell asleep and when he nudged him he realized my father wasn't sleeping. (We revisit that bench at the lake sometimes).

He was unconscious for a long time for a man who had had a heart attack, 15-30 minutes maybe, with no intervention. So he had anoxic brain injury, kept alive via ventilators. At the age of 10 and 15 we became adults. More responsibility was placed on my sister since she was older.

I remember going into Shands (where I eventually ended up working as an RN) and seeing his body lying lifeless on the hospital bed, talking to him hoping he could hear my voice, holding his hand. Looking at the tubes attached to his body. I remember the smells - like a hospital, can't quite describe it but just that it was unfamiliar and not pleasant. I didn't understand that this was it for him. There was hope in me that he would wake up and whisper my name, "Belu, I'm ok. I'm here."

I remember my mummi couldn't process what had happened so the support of strong family members came to our side. He was kept on the ventilator and other life-sustaining drugs/methods so family could fly in and say their final goodbyes. I remember sitting at THE TABLE. The Table was where my sister, mom and I sat along with a couple of doctors and a few of our family members and we sat around and talked about the future. The future being, "to pull the plug or not pull the plug." The doctors were sensitive to my questions, "can he still hear me when I talk? Can I say goodbye?" With sensitivity and knowing I was a young child looking for the answer "yes," they said, "yes." At such young ages we were deciding the fate of our puppa (with the help of family). I went to his bedside, caressed his forehead, talked with him and told him how much I had loved him, said my goodbye, and found out early morning the next day he died.

A shock wave. More like, unbelief. It was surreal. Was he really...dead? Maybe he left the hospital and was actually part of a secret mission and all of it was pretend? He was going to come back even if it took years.

Thoughts from a 10yo. I definitely had those thoughts well into my teen years.

The funeral. So many people came. I don't really remember that day too well. There are two vivid memories I have: pulling the lever up with my sister to have his body burned and turned into ashes - officially saying goodbye forever - and sitting in my cousin's car and asking "when I get married, who will walk me down the aisle?" (That question has since been answered ;)).

There is a picture of us and our family members who came down sitting around in the living room. All of our expressions...blank. Mostly staring. Not really looking anywhere.

Questions: Family: how are we going to move forward? who will take care of them?
                  Child: how am I going to go back to school? What will I tell my friends? Will I be able to
                             go on the trip to Washington D.C.?

Details I don't remember too well.

What happened after isn't so great. Memories not so wonderful. My mummi lost someone she loved and depended on tremendously. Her mind and body could not handle the mental trauma so her functioning came to an all time low. We went to stay with family for a few months (probably the most difficult memories that caused a lot of anger and bitterness to well up within me because it was something that no child should go through after losing a parent which have, thankfully, been forgiven and mended). Different family members stayed with us for months. Each helping us significantly in their own ways like when my sister told me that our uncle really helped her out by guiding her through our parents' finances and how to handle it all.

Then it kind of died down from there. If you have been through a loss you know what I mean. A lot of support in the beginning and then it trails off either little by little or all of a sudden. Which just means getting back to life. Moving forward.

Trying to close that chapter and begin the next one.

Nakedness

I've been thinking about a lot of different things lately.

Most recent of which has been about pornography.
And naked bodies.

I'd like to start with my thoughts on our naked bodies. Nakedness is not something to be ashamed of. God CREATED our bodies. It's make up is incredible. The trauma it can handle is miraculous. It houses our incredibly functioning organs that are always working around the clock and doing things that are complex and intricate. It heals itself. It HEALS. ITSELF. That's crazy. As a nurse, I have witnessed first hand a patient's body go from self-destruct to self-healing with/without help from medicine.

It brings us the greatest. intimate. pleasure. And sometimes disappointments.

I grew up in a pretty conservative family and geographical location. My mom NEVER talked about sex. The only thing I remember is when I started my period she said, in her sweet Indian accent, "Don't hang out with boys." The church talked about sex but only in light of abstinence (that was my personal experience). There wasn't anyone I could talk with about it. And not necessarily just sex. But our beautiful, nakedness. No one talked about how they appreciated his/her body and the things it can do.

I learned about sex from television, school and friends. But even then it wasn't like I really learned about it. It was a distorted view of sex for sure. (A distorted view of what the body "SHOULD" look like). It was more like I knew the word, and there were a couple of body parts involved and people always enjoyed it. And it was quick. I guess many of us learned it that way from conversations I've had.

I remember I felt shame, awkward and embarrassed talking about or thinking about it. It was uncomfortable. And I think it stemmed from not having an appreciation for the naked body or my own. Not respecting my own body and what it can do. What it is capable of. Not having a mature conversation about sex and our nakedness. (I mean, there was definitely some immaturity all across the board growing up but does that come from what and how we were taught or not taught? - something my husband and I have been discussing).

My body is strong and resilient. Sometimes it fails me. I know one day (maybe) I can house a baby INSIDE OF MY BODY. (That always seems so 'alien' to me - the fact that a woman's body nourishes another human inside of itself. Crazy, miraculous).

I was never taught about the naked body in the sense of appreciation and respect.
Were you?

I've been thinking about my future children (if we have any - I also think about the young folks in my life). My husband and I desire for them to appreciate and respect not only their own bodies but other peoples bodies. And its differences from one to the other. We desire to be an open book (depending on age, of course - we actually desire to be an open book about everything) to them. We want to talk about it even if they are uncomfortable or we're uncomfortable. We want to take what we learned from our childhoods and teach our children to have a HEALTHY view of nakedness and sex. (At least try to. I'm not a parent yet so it may be difficult. And not necessarily our future children but in any conversation that may come up with our friends and/or family). And a healthy view on other topics but that would expand into a MUCH LONGER post.
What do I mean by healthy? Good question.

That leads me to pornography. An unhealthy view of nakedness and sex. Many people either peruse it now and then or have an addiction to it - men and women. Pornography demeans women (and men). It is an unrealistic expectation regarding sex and someone's nakedness. Some of it involves extreme underage boys and girls and boys and girls who are not legal (16/17 yo but look older) and who may have been forced into the sex trafficking industry. It destroys. Children are looking at it (I've experienced it myself and in other kids lives when growing up) and those close to them are not talking about it so of course their views (and my own) on sex and nakedness was immature and unrealistic and distorted.

I think about those who have an addiction to it. And I think about those who seek help. I have someone close to me that I will reference. This person told me that the support group attended focused on: how to get rid of it by praying and seeking scriptures; boycotting everything and anything that will cause the person to stumble (which nowadays is very difficult as technology and media is available everywhere, all the time, and in some cases absolutely needed for work); and learning how to resist temptation.

What I usually hear about pornography is how it is a sin, how it's destructive and how to help men overcome it. (There are women, too, and that population is growing).

I think something should be added that would be helpful: going back to the person's past. What happened in their past? How did he/she learn about sex and nakedness?
Perhaps we should also talk about how we can react to sex and nudity by appreciating what God did in what He created. How incredibly beautiful our bodies are. How beautiful and important our sexuality is.

I think about the church because sex is a huge deal in our culture but it's not talked about very often within the house of God or within the home. Or it is but more in the sense of "sex should be within a marriage between a man and a woman," "learn to honor each others bodies (within a marriage)," "sex is holy and sacred." Or an approach that is white knuckle purity as my husband would describe it. I didn't hear much more about sex than that.  I didn't hear much about nakedness either.

Healthy view of nakedness and sex. When I think of this I ultimately think of respect and appreciation. Respect and appreciation for my body (being kind and good to it, saying nice things about it) leading to respect and appreciation of other peoples bodies.

Maybe if we talked in this way it would help us all out all around? (Body shaming, pornography, rape, bullying...)

Fall...I love you.

It's 59 degrees outside and it feels glorious. The sun has been shining, the windows are open. I'm eating goldfish and studying for ACLS. A beautiful day! I'm just so happy in this moment. Not because I'm eating goldfish and studying for ACLS but just thinking about my life. The Lord has been good to me. His faithfulness is unending and His love abounds forever. He is ever constant and always walking beside me. 

I think about how I get to live life with someone I love. We love being near each other. Even if we are doing separate things. He is the most patient person I have ever met. Slow to speak, quick to forgive and first to apologize. God has been good to me. Yes, He surely has.

Settled.

Settled. That’s how I feel right now. Life the past few months has been chaotic but harmonized, difficult but manageable, tiring but exciting. Since July of this year I have travelled 14,000+ miles, with a mix of flying and driving (probably half and half!). I was feeling unsettled. As though I didn’t have a home...but I do have a home. The meaning of home to me is now not a place but a people. Home is my family. Not a state. Home is my friends. Not a city. Home is much more than this life has to offer. It is a glimpse of where my true home is. Not of this earth. But for now, home is a people. People I love. People who love me. 

I love the northwest. I love the outdoors. I love nature. There is something spiritual, healing, majestic and peaceful about being surrounded by trees, mountains, quietness, away from the hustle and bustle of city life (which I love city life, too! it’s nice to have both not too far from each other). I thought maybe this would be my new home but the last few months I have learned about the definition of what home truly means. I am sitting in my new apartment, feeling settled. I have experienced love, stress, frustration, new friendships, contentment, death. I have felt hurt through what my best friend has gone through. I have been stretched beyond my comfort zone. I have been stretched and tested in my faith. I am learning to love someone, what it means to love and be loved. Allowing myself to be completely vulnerable. I am in a season of life where I know who I am and am continually growing (Do we ever get to a point where we know who we are completely? Life changes, is dynamic, therefore I change.), what I would like out of life, what/who is/are the most important in MY life and in life in general. 

It’s been non-stop. But I would not change the last few months for anything. It has been the most fun, challenging, physically exhausting, emotionally tiring time I have been through but the memories made, the laughter shared, the love expressed, felt and known…no, I don’t want to change anything. At all.

I feel settled. Not because of the physical place I am in but how I feel about where I am in life. How the circumstances and journey of life has changed, stretched, challenged and molded me (and continues to do so). I am curious where God will take me in this fleeting thing called life but for now I hope to live for today because who knows if I will see tomorrow. 

Change is good!

There has been so much that has changed in the last few months. Moving away from home was one of the most difficult and easiest decisions I have ever made. Make sense? :) Moved away from family (difficult). I wanted to travel and experience different parts of the US (easy). I never realized how this experience would have changed me, shaped the person I am today, strengthen me emotionally, spiritually and mentally, challenge me in my work and health. Make me re-evaluate my life and beliefs. Asking myself, "What in my life is suppressing my desire to want to live life to the fullest? (That's an easy answer, fear. Fear of failure. Fear of what others may think. Fear of the unknown. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear, why you gotta be creepin? It can be a hard emotion to overcome but this journey has made me braver. Braver than what I was before. Actually, as I have aged I have overcome different aspects of fear.) How does my life look as a single Christian woman? How am I loving my family? Friends? Others? What am I doing to make the world a better place? Am I giving of my time, talents (not that I have many!) and/or finances to others in need?" And much more in depth questions and thoughts discussed with my roommate, Natalie :)

This is such a different season of my life that I have thoroughly enjoyed. I know this may sound sad but I have never ENJOYED a season in my life. I have GROWN from many different seasons but never enjoyed AND grown. Childhood, young adulthood, beginning of adulthood, all was HARD. I suppressed much of my feelings about how my life was as a child/teenager, not wanting anyone to know how much hurt, anger and bitterness I was actually feeling (only my sister knew). Oh but if that Bela didn't go through what she did, this Bela wouldn't be who she is today.

I am trying to love each day that God has given me. After all, I don't know when my time will come. When my health may fail me. (As a nurse, I come across young adults younger than me or around my age affected by some kind of devastating accident, illness or cancer and realize the same could happen to me). I find myself meditating on the words William Borden wrote at different times in his bible, "No reserve. No retreat. No regrets." May I have the same mindset as I go through this thing called life!

Enjoyed this hike along Lake Coeur d'Alene, ID

Direct My Heart

2 Thessalonians 3:5

"May the Lord direct your hearts into the love of God and into the steadfastness of Christ." 

I have just "discovered" this verse and I'm going to try and pray this throughout the week as, "May the Lord direct my heart INTO THE LOVE of God and may He direct my heart INTO THE STEADFASTNESS of Christ." His love is endless, boundless, forever and His steadfastness is enduring and lasting. 

My friend and I watched "Son of God" last night and it was ok. I thought Jesus was really pretty :) The movie made me think about his ministry here on earth. When faced with people who doubted him, questioned him and/or ridiculed him he always had patience, peaceful answers and showed such compassion and love towards them and his enemies. Quick to forgive. On the cross Roman soldiers and rulers ridiculed him, teased him, disparaged him while he was dying, bleeding, broken and in the most excruciating pain. In his perfect selflessness he said, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." 

He is steadfast, unwavering and his love is unconditional. Praying He will direct my heart to be more and more like His as I battle with my flesh daily.

Just Thinking About Life

I've been thinking about my past a lot lately. Thinking about where I have been, what I have gone through, the trials and difficult times. The valleys, the peaks, the darkness, the light, the in-between. Thinking about where life has led me to where I am now. I would have never envisioned myself to be where I am today when I was younger or even just a couple of years ago. Oh the plans that God has for me are definitely NOT the plans I thought He would have had. His mind is unsearchable and when I think I fully grasp and understand who He is, I don't...and have so much more to learn about who He is in this fleeting thing called life. 

I am enjoying this season of my life. My soul remains restless in finding where it wants to settle down. In career, life in general. That will all come in due time. I keep telling my little heart, God will direct you. Don't worry. 

Came across this quote today and have been meditating on it:

"I would rather be what God chose to make me than the most glorious creature that I could think of; for to have been thought about, born in God’s thought, and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest, and most precious thing in all thinking."

 - George MacDonald

Beautifully and poetically written, Mr. MacDonald!

Enjoying Seattle :)

Things are a little better

I HATE working day shift. I forgot how much I hated it. There is little time to complete charting and then little time to take care of my patients. It's everything busy and I don't like that it takes away from patient care. A nurse must please the doctors, the patient's family, physical therapy, occupational therapy, case management, social work and the charge nurse! I miss the night shift when it's just the nurse and patient.

Good thing travel nurse assignments are short term.

God reminded me last night that I was praying fervently for this assignment. The one offered to us didn't work out and we didn't have a job at the time and this one popped up in a couple of days. An answered prayer and I have been resenting it. I have been dwelling in my flesh and not in the Spirit and have forgotten how God has answered our prayers. He has me depending on Him constantly. This comforts me and gives me peace for the moment but I know it won't be easy.

Enough of serious talk. My friend from nursing school is a travel nurse and she suggested we bake or bring goodies to work. We have been. ANNNNND that really has helped. People are so much more happier and friendlier when offered sugar. They actually START a conversation with us and not the other way around. So glad she suggested it.

We recently went into SF and went to the Muir Woods to visit some redwoods (so beautiful!) and toured the Golden Gate Bridge.

Breakfast prior in Sausalito

Love the homes in SF and the hills are amazing! 

There were these power lines that were very low to the road which we thought were interesting. Nat made me take tons of pic of it.

 Here are some pics from Muir Woods. The Redwoods were ginormous! This tree above has too many rings to count. It amazes me to think about how these trees have been here for so long and what it has been through. A Spanish missionary founded these woods and dubbed it the "redwood."

Even the bark looks different. 

Golden Gate bridge

We were singing the Full House theme song when we drove on , walked onand saw the bridge.

It was quite windy! Felt like hurricane force winds y'a'll! 

And FINALLY got something in the mail ;) It really made my night. Was getting depressed because Natalie gets TONS of mail. Not really but it seemed like it when I was getting NOTHING!