A quote that I love says:
"When you feel like you're drowning in life, don't worry - your life guard walks on water"
In the last few weeks, I have been diligently and not so patiently working on mission paperwork. It's been a process that is teaching me so much. About myself. About the Gospel. And about the Savior. It's been a process. And something that I've been warned over and over again is to be aware.
Things have been unusually rough. A car accident that took a relation of mine. Work taking back my Sundays off. Arguments. Hurt feelings. Stress. Drama. Heart ache. It all hit at once. And it was incredibly over whelming. What the crap, world. I'm busy. I have things to do. People to see. I didn't have time for my life to try to downward spiral!
"Dibe, we need to talk." A friend pulled me aside.
"Am I in trouble?"
"Yes." Came their terse reply. Now I was worried.
"Uh.. okay."
We sat down and I waited.
"You are in trouble. You're getting ready to turn in your mission paperwork."
I nodded.
"That means that Satan is going to work extremely to ruin you. not just your mission. But you."
I was intimidated. Satan knows me well. He knows my biggest fear. He knows my biggest weaknesses. and he exploits them well.
Blast, I'm in trouble. I thought to myself.
In the subsequent few days as one thing added to another, one pebble of trial exploded into a mountain of problems, the warning came again. And again. And again. Oh man... I'm REALLY hosed.
Things didn't get better. They got worse. Doctors were losing my paperwork. That was the reason for all this trial. Then tonight was institute.
And in the middle of the class I started thinking of the last three weeks of trials. Of things going wrong. Of seemingly nothing going right. But this time, I saw it different. After every time Satan jabbed me or tried to pull me under, the Savior pulled me above water again.
With the accident: even that first day, I knew how lucky I was. A was not the first ambulance on scene, which meant I never had to see Jaryd. The medic who ran the MCI is well respected, and one of my favorite medics, there are only a small handful medics in all of AMR that I would trust as much as him. If this situation had to happen, there is really nobody that I would have preferred to assess and care for him. I was lucky to know the responders. I am lucky to know that if he was work-able, Ian would have worked him. Would have tried. So grateful. I am so so grateful to know that forever is possible. Life doesn't end here.
Work taking away my Sundays: That was a huge blow. With all of this emotional and spiritual war that was coming my way, I NEED the Savior. I NEED the Sacrament. I learned how much I needed my home teachers, my visiting teachers. The random ward members who stop and talk to me about medicine, flat-soled shoes or Once Upon a Time. I needed to see the people I've known my whole life in the family ward - those weekly encounters and reminders of where I've been and how far I've come. I needed my ward, and my church families. I needed the soul-healing hugs that at least one person always seems to know that I need. (*** The purpose of a hug is to fix the soul. They put you back together when you're falling apart. They heal the hurts of the past, the fear of the future. So, people. No more awkward shoulder pats. No more one-armed uncomfortable contact. REAL hugs are tight, they squeeze you back together. ***) I needed random conversations of people's emergencies or medical issues throughout the week. Or times they heard a joke and thought that I would laugh.
And work took that away. To be fair, I had been warned that once they filled the other shift, that that would happen. But it couldn't have been worse timing. I had been praying that it wouldn't happen. That Sundays would stay mine for church. But it was taken, and worse, nobody really wanted to tell me. So I found out via our scheduling software. Ouch.
Several days later, the Savior worked His miracles and my coworker called me up and asked if we could do a trade of Saturdays and Sundays. Meaning, I'd work his Saturdays, and he would work my Sundays. I got to work and cried. What a blessing. He knew how much I needed, not just the Sacrament, but I needed and NEED every aspect of church. What a blessing!
Additionally, I have been uplifted significantly by those around me. The Lord knows. He knows that I'm not that person that says: "Hey. I need help." or "Hey, I'm struggling." He knows that I just don't tell people that I need prayers or hugs or extra love unless I am desperate for some relief, some show that I'm not alone in that particular trial. From FB messages, to random *sober* guys calling me beautiful (okay, like my partner denoted, he was probably legitimately crazy, it was crazy week at work. But I really was feeling frumpy and under appreciated and under loved and really useless. It was nice to hear something kind, just to be kind. Constant text messages, phone calls, emails and the biggest surprise, the heart attack.
In my community (the LDS community) we do this thing called Heart Attacking. We cut out hearts, and attack you with love. (Ha ha. get it! Heart attack!) And I had just worked a 20 hour shift. I was worn out, and relatively disheartened. And I walked up to my apartment door to find a box of lucky charms, chocolates, cookies and very sweet notes from some unknown people. That was the biggest surprise and shock to me. I've never been on the receiving end of such a show of love and support. I'm the snarky one. So people don't associate me with someone who needs or even wants that kind of support.
Today was a big day. Satan has worked really hard to pull me down, but for every inch that Satan has pulled me down, the Savior has been there. He has met Satan step for step and pulled me the other direction. And when I've done all that I can do, I realized that I am not strong enough. But, I don't have to be Strong Enough. He is strong enough, for the both of us.
I'm not strong enough
21 March 2013
09 March 2013
Dibe and the terrible, horrible, no good, Very bad day.
Car in a tree
Car in the ditch
Car on fire...
Parties pinned.
Confirmed injuries
4 occupants. 2 parties ejected
2 die.
Broken glass, sheared off metal. Engines, tires. Flashing lights everywhere.
How do you look into the eyes of a child; a child who has killed their best friends. How do you look into that child's mother and offer comfort?
Sometimes it bothers you. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you don't realize how much it sucks until later.
You leave the hospital. You wash all evidence that that person ever existed in the ambulance. That that person ever lived.
Two families are getting a phone call that no family wants. Today it bothers.
~~~~~
On another sad note, happy birthday Angela. My heart is sad for you. I wish you were somehow here again.
If you find yourself in Boulder this afternoon with extra Rock Stars and a hug (or 3) with my name on it, I would be happy to accept!
Car in the ditch
Car on fire...
Parties pinned.
Confirmed injuries
4 occupants. 2 parties ejected
2 die.
Broken glass, sheared off metal. Engines, tires. Flashing lights everywhere.
How do you look into the eyes of a child; a child who has killed their best friends. How do you look into that child's mother and offer comfort?
Sometimes it bothers you. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you don't realize how much it sucks until later.
You leave the hospital. You wash all evidence that that person ever existed in the ambulance. That that person ever lived.
Two families are getting a phone call that no family wants. Today it bothers.
~~~~~
On another sad note, happy birthday Angela. My heart is sad for you. I wish you were somehow here again.
If you find yourself in Boulder this afternoon with extra Rock Stars and a hug (or 3) with my name on it, I would be happy to accept!
07 March 2013
The Greater Love
This week I learned a tough lesson.
I was at work, I know surprising, I'm ALWAYS at work. Anyway. I was at work and we were getting a late call. It was to the local detox center* for a male party "too drunk for the ARC." We went non emergent ** and walked in to find a drunk that had fallen in front of us earlier in the day. I was in the back with a patient, so my partner quickly got out to check if the drunk was okay.
Something about my partner that surprises me everyday, is his capacity to care. He is kind to a T. Compassionate and loving with every person that steps on our ambulance (the one time he lost his cool with a patient was when one of our Boulders' finest vagabonds took a swing at me.)
Most people would have seen the drunk fall, looked the other direction and driven quickly on, muttering how he can just call 911 if he needs help. Myself, included, unfortunately. Not my partner. He got out to help this man and stayed with him to ensure that he was alright. Apparently the man had broken his foot not too long prior to this. So he was stumbling because of the alcohol in his system, but he was also stumbling because his foot was broken. And again, I found myself feeling incredibly blessed for the partnership I was a part of.
Fast forward back to the late call. Same guy, same drunk. Now at detox. They felt he was not a candidate for detox because he was unable to walk without assistance (he was using crutches, which apparently is considered an assistant).
We quickly loaded him on our bed to transport him to the closest ER, knowing the wrath that would be waiting when they understood that the detox center was dumping a patient that really should have been kept there.
My partner attended on the call, but in my short time with the man, he never once referred to me as anything but "ma'am" or "Miss." He was polite and kind. And I started to wonder what a man such as he, was doing living on the street and drunk all the time. We got him to the hospital, and as we knew they were livid. He didn't need to be here, he was an ARC patient.
We knew that. but we were told to transport.
Then it happened. They started treating this man with disdain. Like they were better human beings then any other. And I saw red. Who were they to treat this man like he was nothing. Like he was nobody. He IS someone. Someone loves him. Someone misses him. He means something to SOMEONE.
Most of all, he is a son of God. Just like anyone else on that staff. I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to take the man away and take him somewhere else, but knowing that he would get the same treatment anywhere else. And then my heart hurt. THIS is what we've become. Cruel and uncaring to people. This is somebody's someone. But in our world, at that time. He was nobody. I wanted to take their shoulders and shake them as hard as I could. I wanted to remind them that the worth of souls are great!
I wanted them to know of the Good Samaritan
a Samaritan stopped to help this stranger. A man he didn't know who was stripped, wounded. And he stopped. He not only treated the mans' wounds, he took the injured party to an inn keeper and paid for further care, telling the inn keeper that he was to do all that he could to help, and any additional cost would be paid on the Samaritans arrival back.
Then I realized the hard part. That I had treated the man the same way. Like a waste of time, like nobody special. Like a nobody. And I was sad for myself. Disgusted with my attitude. Because truly, drunk or not. He IS somebody's someone. He's GOD's someone. And when he tells us that "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." He means it. The good AND the bad. This drunk, this man, matters to Him. And I was mad that the hospital treated the man like dirt. I was no better that day. Before we left, I went back to shake the mans hand.
Like it says in 1st Nephi. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.
He knows us. He loves us. He loves that drunk, even when I didn't.
*The local detox center in Boulder is called the ARC, the Addition Recovery Center. There are two disqualifying symptoms that will get you booted from the ARC.
1. Being unable to walk without assistance
2. Having a fresh or a new injury.
Patients who are sent to detox are put on a cot to sleep until they sober up. They have to blow a .00 in order to be released.
**Non-emergent, no lights or sirens
I was at work, I know surprising, I'm ALWAYS at work. Anyway. I was at work and we were getting a late call. It was to the local detox center* for a male party "too drunk for the ARC." We went non emergent ** and walked in to find a drunk that had fallen in front of us earlier in the day. I was in the back with a patient, so my partner quickly got out to check if the drunk was okay.
Something about my partner that surprises me everyday, is his capacity to care. He is kind to a T. Compassionate and loving with every person that steps on our ambulance (the one time he lost his cool with a patient was when one of our Boulders' finest vagabonds took a swing at me.)
Most people would have seen the drunk fall, looked the other direction and driven quickly on, muttering how he can just call 911 if he needs help. Myself, included, unfortunately. Not my partner. He got out to help this man and stayed with him to ensure that he was alright. Apparently the man had broken his foot not too long prior to this. So he was stumbling because of the alcohol in his system, but he was also stumbling because his foot was broken. And again, I found myself feeling incredibly blessed for the partnership I was a part of.
Fast forward back to the late call. Same guy, same drunk. Now at detox. They felt he was not a candidate for detox because he was unable to walk without assistance (he was using crutches, which apparently is considered an assistant).
We quickly loaded him on our bed to transport him to the closest ER, knowing the wrath that would be waiting when they understood that the detox center was dumping a patient that really should have been kept there.
My partner attended on the call, but in my short time with the man, he never once referred to me as anything but "ma'am" or "Miss." He was polite and kind. And I started to wonder what a man such as he, was doing living on the street and drunk all the time. We got him to the hospital, and as we knew they were livid. He didn't need to be here, he was an ARC patient.
We knew that. but we were told to transport.
Then it happened. They started treating this man with disdain. Like they were better human beings then any other. And I saw red. Who were they to treat this man like he was nothing. Like he was nobody. He IS someone. Someone loves him. Someone misses him. He means something to SOMEONE.
Most of all, he is a son of God. Just like anyone else on that staff. I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to take the man away and take him somewhere else, but knowing that he would get the same treatment anywhere else. And then my heart hurt. THIS is what we've become. Cruel and uncaring to people. This is somebody's someone. But in our world, at that time. He was nobody. I wanted to take their shoulders and shake them as hard as I could. I wanted to remind them that the worth of souls are great!
I wanted them to know of the Good Samaritan
a Samaritan stopped to help this stranger. A man he didn't know who was stripped, wounded. And he stopped. He not only treated the mans' wounds, he took the injured party to an inn keeper and paid for further care, telling the inn keeper that he was to do all that he could to help, and any additional cost would be paid on the Samaritans arrival back.
Then I realized the hard part. That I had treated the man the same way. Like a waste of time, like nobody special. Like a nobody. And I was sad for myself. Disgusted with my attitude. Because truly, drunk or not. He IS somebody's someone. He's GOD's someone. And when he tells us that "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." He means it. The good AND the bad. This drunk, this man, matters to Him. And I was mad that the hospital treated the man like dirt. I was no better that day. Before we left, I went back to shake the mans hand.
He knows us. He loves us. He loves that drunk, even when I didn't.
*The local detox center in Boulder is called the ARC, the Addition Recovery Center. There are two disqualifying symptoms that will get you booted from the ARC.
1. Being unable to walk without assistance
2. Having a fresh or a new injury.
Patients who are sent to detox are put on a cot to sleep until they sober up. They have to blow a .00 in order to be released.
**Non-emergent, no lights or sirens
01 March 2013
Soul Truths
I am lucky enough to find myself in very interesting and unique situations and conversations. Today was no different.
I sat at the hospital preparing to do a blood draw for the state patrol when an elderly lady touched my elbow. She told me that her husband of fifty years lay in ct getting checked for whatever is causing headaches and dizziness. She asked if she could sit with me for a few minutes. How could I refuse?
I sat down and she told me stories. Stories of her maiden years; of the times she turned down dates to take her little sister to dance classes. She told me that the secret to a successful marriage is remembering to love them. and to serve them to forgive and to have fun. She stopped at some point and very poigantly asked me "What do you know for certain?"
I thought about that. What do I know for certain? I said that I know that despite the bad in the world that people are good. That its easy to love others when you remember that nobody gets out of this world alive.
She smiled and shook her head.
"What do you really know for certain?" She asked me.
I told her what I felt in my heart. I know for certain that God lives. That His Son suffered and died for me. and that they still talk to their children now and they have a prophet on the earth.
she just closed her yes and sighed. "yes. that's it."
"What are you doing about that?" she asked me.
"Doing about what?" I responded
"You know soul truths." she called it. "what are you going to do with the soul truths?"
I smiled. "I am going on a mission for my church." Again, she smiled. "I spent a long time not knowing that I was loved by God, that God cared. That the Savior died for me. I don't want anyone else to feel that way."
She patted my hand gently as her husband was wheeled back into the room. She hugged me and walked away.
For the rest of the day, I've thought "What do I know for certain."
I now present the same question to you. What do YOU know for certain. What are your Soul Truths?
I sat at the hospital preparing to do a blood draw for the state patrol when an elderly lady touched my elbow. She told me that her husband of fifty years lay in ct getting checked for whatever is causing headaches and dizziness. She asked if she could sit with me for a few minutes. How could I refuse?
I sat down and she told me stories. Stories of her maiden years; of the times she turned down dates to take her little sister to dance classes. She told me that the secret to a successful marriage is remembering to love them. and to serve them to forgive and to have fun. She stopped at some point and very poigantly asked me "What do you know for certain?"
I thought about that. What do I know for certain? I said that I know that despite the bad in the world that people are good. That its easy to love others when you remember that nobody gets out of this world alive.
She smiled and shook her head.
"What do you really know for certain?" She asked me.
I told her what I felt in my heart. I know for certain that God lives. That His Son suffered and died for me. and that they still talk to their children now and they have a prophet on the earth.
she just closed her yes and sighed. "yes. that's it."
"What are you doing about that?" she asked me.
"Doing about what?" I responded
"You know soul truths." she called it. "what are you going to do with the soul truths?"
I smiled. "I am going on a mission for my church." Again, she smiled. "I spent a long time not knowing that I was loved by God, that God cared. That the Savior died for me. I don't want anyone else to feel that way."
She patted my hand gently as her husband was wheeled back into the room. She hugged me and walked away.
For the rest of the day, I've thought "What do I know for certain."
I now present the same question to you. What do YOU know for certain. What are your Soul Truths?
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