Sunday, December 28, 2014

"Straight, Daddy?"





I was walking and talking with God by the river tonight, watching and listening to the Canadian geese, thinking all over again about how they can lift off out of the St. Joseph's River and fly confidently to a place in the South where they've possibly never been before.

I leaned against the side of the wooden bridge, overcome by God's presence, by his reassurance that he is that, and so much more, to us.  We will know.  We will lift off in faith, unafraid when he calls, whether to heaven (that thing we call death) or just to step back out into the hallway at work, and face something we are sure we cannot face.

As I hurried to get home before it was too much darker, a little boy ran past me.  I had heard him earlier, calling to his family.  He got to the end of our bridge, where the path divides, and stopped, and hollered, "Straight, Daddy?"

I didn't hear his father's answer, but the boy stopped and waited.  God is like that too.  He knows the best way home.  He have only to ask, and wait for his instructions. 

He will always, always answer.

We are safer than the Canadian goose in the sky, safer than the boy in his father's arms.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Oh, Bring Us Some Pig Stomach....

Thank you for your interest in my weight-loss/school building fundraiser.  I had my official weigh-in this morning, following last night's burger and fries at Red Robin with friends, and coffee and warm donuts at Krispy Kreme.  Day One went well (no Red Robin or Krispy Kreme); only 97 more days to go!  In future weeks, I may post my weight loss at the end of my blog to keep you up-to-date.  (Yes, I had a cardiologist ask me point blank, as he evaluated my fundraiser letter, "So, what do you weigh?" No, I didn't answer and don't intend to post that.)

Although talking about food may not be in my best interest, there is someone (besides Red Robin and Krispy Kreme) that I need to blame for my high weight this morning.

On Christmas Eve, my neighbor Mary called me over to her house for some food.  Before I could leave, my neighbor Blanca rang my door bell and handed in a foil-wrapped cheesecake, still warm from baking. I ate too much of it, then re-wrapped it and took it with me to Mary's to share. 

Mary's kitchen was in a flurry, for an "I'm not going to cook this year" situation. In the oven, steaks and a ham were curing for the next day.  Miscellaneous pots and pies crowded the stovetop.

Mary piled my plate with cheese-sprinkled cornbread and greens.  She also ladled on several sections of pig stomach, otherwise known as maw (according to Mary) or tripe (according to Dr. Dickson, when I asked him if he'd ever had any).  

I haven't studied stomach in an anatomy book lately, but I still recognized the folded, fluted stomach formation.  I also took note of the inner and outer lining of the stomach and the fleshy portion in between.   

I sprinkled hot sauce on it, as I was told.  It was mild, with an almost too-soft texture, but truly good, especially with the hot sauce.

"You can get it at Martins or Kroger, or Meijer," Mary insisted.  "It's expensive!  At Thanksgiving they were all sold out, every store."

I forked up pig stomach while Mary gave me the stuffing versus dressing lecture.  

"They are not the same thing," she said.  "You put stuff in stuffing...some people put pecans, raisins, onions." 

Dressing on the other hand, is largely bread based, she explained.  

The next day as we played Monopoly following her meal of ham, steak, butter beans, sweet potatoes, STUFFING, cornbread, greens and homemade cranberry sauce, Mary brought out desserts and coffee, and monitored our conformity to the rules of Monopoly. 

First, pieces of apple pie appeared. Next, wedges of strawberry pie with a strawberry glaze. 

"Carlos, did you want a piece of cake, you say?"

"Yeah, I wanted a piece of cake."  

When we were thoroughly stuffed, Mary said, "Does anyone want some banana pudding?"  

How were we to know the best had been sequestered until the end? We spooned up bites of pudding and crumbs in between Mary's critiquing of our rolling of the dice. 

"Well if it ain't in the rule book now, it was then," Mary sniffed at our modern indifference to a rule she remembered.

I'm glad I missed the chitlins, pig intestines that have been cleaned of poop, and boiled. 

"If you can smell them, DON'T EAT THEM!" Mary told me.  "If you walk into someone's house and smell them, even if it's my house, don't eat them, they're not clean!"

Thankfully, Mary is also a big support when I talk about needing to lose weight. 

And I don't think there are a lot of calories in pig stomach.   Although it seems a bit much to have my stomach digesting the stomach of something else.

Merry Christmas friends! 

"Long lay the world in sin and error pining, 
til he appeared and the soul felt its worth..."
Placide Cappeau

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Losing Weight to Build a School....Oh Great.

"I wonder if there's anyone else who ever did something this idiotic?" I asked my aunt, from my position on her carpet, as I stuffed letters into envelopes. 

It all started with the calls and letters from Wisconsin, my family and friends somewhat urgently trying to raise $330,000 for a new school building.

This is the school where I started my teaching career with a six year stint, and where before that, I attended as a student.

I don't really have a lot of spare money.  So what can I do to help, I mused to myself.  What do I have that I don't need?

Ha!  Pounds!  Easy answer.  Hence, the letter as follows.



“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short;
but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.” --Michelangelo

At the risk of great personal peril and painful transparency, I am inviting you to help me as I lose weight in an effort to build a school.

 In my first life as a teacher, I taught at a small Mennonite school in Stratford, Wisconsin.  My younger brother, a champion of solid, creative education from first grade to high school, is now the principal of the school.  The students come from large, hard-working families, many with parents who only went to eighth grade.  In the last few years, the enrollment has mushroomed, requiring a larger school, soon.  Raising the $330,000 by the fall of 2016 is a monumental task for only 20 families.   They are hoping to have a lot of it raised by May of 2015.

In my second life as a nurse, I find myself surrounded by surgeons and cardiologists who frequently bemoan America's obesity.  I have been at least somewhat overweight most of my life, so I have sympathy for our overweight patients.  However I also deeply admire the Dr. Hallorans and Dr. Mehtas of the world, even as I suspect that they have no idea how hard it is to lose weight.   


The collision of these two situations leads me to challenge myself to help build the new school by inviting people to contribute per pound of weight I lose from Christmas to Easter.  If I don’t lose much, your donation will be small; if I lose a lot your donation will be larger!  If you can take this risk, please complete the form below and give it to me. I will return it to you after Easter, with your total donation calculated.    (For your own records:  I am pledging $_____ per pound.)

Thank you!


 Katrina Hoover
 ***************************************************************

        $0.50 per pound  (paint brush?)                      
        $1 per pound        (gallon of paint?)                
        $2 per pound        (chair?)                                             
        $10 per pound      (window?)                                           
        $25 per pound      (bathroom fixtures?)                               
        $40 per pound      (carpet for a room?)             
                   _____ per pound


Would you like a receipt for tax purposes?  Yes____ No____
Make checks payable at that time to Bethany Christian School.

                 _______ (your donation per pound) x ______ (total pounds I lose)=
__________ (total donation to BCS)
 



Back to me on my aunt's carpet.

"Well, it's interesting," she replied to my question.  She insists it's a good idea.

I can't argue with the fact that it's interesting.  And certainly, the next few months will be as well.

"What if I just lose my mind?" I asked.

"Just hope it weighs a lot," my cousin replied.

Thanks, Jordan.  You're a great support.  

Note: If you would like to contribute to the fundraiser, and crank up the pressure on my weight loss, please comment, or email me at khoover500@gmail.com. 

Saturday, December 13, 2014

A Stomach: Need or Want?

The next time I say, "I need central air" or "I need a new computer", I hope I remember the shuttle driver.  

I was bouncing along in the mechanic shop shuttle, which was giving me a free ride to a place of business while the mechanics nosed out a manufacturer's error in my Fiesta.  Rain splattered the windshield of the  courtesy shuttle, and the shuttle driver with the red fleece vest activated the windshield wipers as we turned north on Ironwood.  

"I suppose you'd rather have the conventional stomach, but it's not too bad," he said.

Other than a foggy memory from nursing school, I had kind of forgotten that stomachs are disposable.  

Turns out, they are.  You can't live without your heart or brain, but you can dispense with your stomach.  You need at least one lung and at least one kidney, but if push comes to shove, you don't need a stomach.  

The guy in the driver's seat of my shuttle had lost his in the process of a battle with stomach cancer. 

Being grateful when our blessings evaporate is a challenge.  Being positive about pain is hard.  Being okay with the loss of what we thought we needed....so difficult!  But we never know whose life we might touch. 

I'm pretty sure if someone told the shuttle driver, "I think you blessed that Mennonite girl the other day," he would say, "Don't be ridiculous, I'm sure not."

But he would be wrong. 

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Depending how you define "Day of Solitude"....




Does it count as a day of solitude, if you're alone in a crowd of strangers?

I take my seat in the rows of human beings and start the audiobook I've bought for this purpose.  I'm burdened about life. I feel like I'm struggling to be what God wants me to be, and my mind replays my weaknesses, my fears for the future.  Oh God, you need to speak!  This is why I need a day with you!

The brown fields of northern Indiana morph into the brown buildings of south Chicago, as I listen to Ravi Zacharias read his book, Jesus Among Other Gods.  

He talks about the hunger of our hearts, and how various religions try to deal with these hungers, and then how Jesus deals with them.   Like the woman at the well, when transformed by Jesus Christ, our hearts become part of the solution for hunger rather than part of the problem.  No other religion dares to suggest that the answer to our hunger is a person.  Jesus didn't say he would show us the way.  He just said, "I am the way."
I arrive in Chicago at Orchestra Hall, my favorite haunt for hearing The Messiah by the Apollo Chorus.

I hear the ancient words, "Behold, a virgin shall conceive..." and right there, as Ravi Zacharias pointed out in the train, the story of Jesus Christ steps out of the realm of the natural. 




On the way back, I begin to feel alone, and my mind re-hashes my weaknesses.  The train is hurtling back the way we came, flashing past Subway and Taco Bell and the United States Steel Yard and a florescent sign for Miller Lite and acres of pole lights.

"Watch your step, next stop East Chicago," the abrasive voice blares through the train.

I'm listening to the song, "If you say go, we will go; if you say wait, we will wait", when God says to me, "You would go."  It's not a question or a command.  I begin to cry, right across the aisle from the young guy twisting a plastic Coke bottle, but I don't care who sees me, because I suddenly know that God is with me.  God, who knows my weaknesses, my failures, my lack of discipline, my desire to be a people pleaser, by tendency to let people control me, still says, "I know you're trying. Stop beating dead horses.  Get up and try again tomorrow." 

So I'm wiping my eyes.  I feel God all around me, and I realize that of all the people on the train, I am the least alone of anyone.  No matter who you went to Chicago with, there's always something you don't know about them, and something they don't understand about you.

But God knows me perfectly, knows the mess I make of things daily, and still he has just quieted my heart with one touch of his hand on my shoulder:  "Shhhhh.  Be quiet.  Just keep going and stop agonizing."    

This is why I love to take a day of solitude in a crowd every now and then.  Because it's not really solitude. People think I'm alone, when they look over at the empty seat beside me.  

But they're wrong.  


Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Why I'm here in the ER

It's been a long day, starting at 4 am.  It's now 10:30, and the lights are dimmed in our little ER room.  The nurse dressed in blue, pushing anti-nausea medication into the IV, is the husband of a veteran nurse I work with upstairs.  He teases his patient that he'll bring her ice chips only because she's a friend of Katrina, who is a friend of his wife.

I'd rather be home in bed, if I had to choose right now.

But Mary, whose excruciating headaches have overtaken her again, is my inspiration.  She's resting her head on her arm, her elbow propped on the side rail of the ER bed.  She's okay now, with the pain medication.

Recently, I stopped at her house to decompress about work.

I babble for awhile, collapsed on her couch in her immaculate living room. 

Mary listens and changes channels. 

Sometimes I think I'm going to lose my mind, I tell her.

Mary, who knows the key parts of my story, comes up out of her recliner.  She shakes her finger at me.

"Do you think, Katrina....DO YOU THINK," she hollers at me, "that God's going to put you somewhere where you're going to lose your mind?" 

She has no mercy on my whining.  She pushes me forward and reminds me that God is bigger than my perceived problems. 

"The one word God doesn't want to hear us say is 'can't'," she tells me.

He brings the ice chips.

"Ooo, yum," she says.

I would like to say that I'm here because of my strength and compassion.

But I'm actually here because of hers. 


Saturday, November 29, 2014

The State Trooper Who Finished My Blog

Found at William and Reba's, my brother's house





From under the semi truck in front of me, a cloud of lumber, cardboard boxes, and foam pieces exploded across the toll road.  I drove right into it, boards clattering against the front of my car, unidentifiable debris spewing into the road behind me. 

I'm that geek that goes home for Thanksgiving and comes back loaded with favorite new quotes.  Or maybe I should blame the geekiness on my family, for providing me with the quotes.

On my drive home, I was mentally processing, "Be a servant, not a solution".  Here are a few of my philosophical thoughts:


  1. A solution can be confusing.  A servant never is. 
  2. The internet is overloaded with solutions.  But not with servants.  
  3. No one cares about your solutions if they aren't convinced of your service.
  4. A solution is telling; servant hood is doing.  
  5. There are problems without solutions, but not problems that can't be helped by a servant.  
  6. Jesus was the solution to the sin nature of man.  But in order to become that solution, he had to first become a servant, in the most amazing miracle: Emmanuel, God with us. 


About five miles from my home exit, the cloud of debris washed over me and I pulled to the shoulder. A few other vehicles pulled over as well, then shortly pulled away. 

Should I leave too, I wondered? It was dark, so I didn't know if I had damaged my car, although it drove fine. 

I decided to stay.  If I later found damage, how would I prove that I had received the damage here? 

I felt bad calling 911, but I didn't know who else to call.

"What's the nature of the emergency?" they asked, then transferred me to the state police.

"What's your location?" the state police voice asked me.  His tone was a hybrid of I just sat down to a pancake dinner and I'm really sick of talking to Indiana's idiotic citizens.  

I explained that I was on the toll road north of Mishawaka, but couldn't see a mile marker, that I had hit a cloud of debris, and pulled over, but didn't know if my vehicle was damaged.

"Get out and check," he said, setting his fork down.  (Okay, so I don't have proof that he did that.)

 "Well it's dark," I said, suddenly feeling like the biggest idiot in the state.

"Drive to the next exit.  They might have a light there," he said. 

I didn't wait to hear the maple syrup sloshing over his IHOP meal, but ended the call as quickly as possible.

My next executive decision was to burst into tears.

Shortly thereafter, as I wiped my eyes, a state trooper pulled up behind me, thank God.  I suppose the one at IHOP might have suggested he swing by, but I prefer to credit God.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I explained.

He shone his light over my car, asking me to step out and evaluate it as well, and pronounced it merely in need of a wash. 

"Should I call my insurance company, do you think?" I asked.  "What if I find something damaged later?" 

"I'll write the CAD number down for you," he said.  "There's no obvious thousand dollars of damage, so I won't write up an accident report."

He returned with an official slip of paper, dated, timed and numbered. 

"Be careful pulling out," he said. 

 Back to the quote.  Point number 7. 

7.)  "They might have a light at the next exit" was a solution, but entirely meaningless to me.  A state trooper tapping on my window and asking me if I was okay was meaningful even without a solution.  But because he was a servant, he also provided me with a solution that Geico will respect, should a future problem develop. 


Trooper #2 was a beautiful type of what we are hearing in the Christmas songs: when suggestions and solutions and messages are insufficient, just go.  Show up.  Show up at the person's car window.  Show up in the broken world.  The world didn't need a "solution", we needed Jesus.  Maybe there would have been another way, but I guess God knew he needed to show up in person, which he miraculously did in Jesus. 

God with us, the greatest Servant the world has ever know.



(You can be a servant, even if you're not this cute.) 






Saturday, November 22, 2014

When I grow up, seven traits I would like to have...

...to work in stillness, wait in strength...

I find these lyrics surprising.
  
I though a person needs strength to work, and stillness to wait.  But this writer--Stopford A. Brooke-- is begging God for the ability to work in stillness, wait in strength.  
Maybe Mr. Brooke was like me...frantically flailing through the work day, and then collapsing, comatose.  Maybe he, too, needed the stillness to fight off the work-day craze, but strength to be productive on his own time.

I could use some stillness at work....some stillness of heart when two people need urgent surgery at once, some stillness of spirit when duplicity appears, some stillness of speech with an anxious patient or family member.

I could use some strength when I'm waiting, to recover, to pick up the pieces, to be productive rather than pass out.  

I blabbered to my aunt just tonight about all the traits I wish I had....

When I grow up, I want to eat whole grains and eggs for breakfast and fish and stir-fry for lunch and a salad for dinner and judiciously choose a dessert once every quarter.  

When I grow up, I want to casually run three miles every morning and not even think about it because it's so routine. 

When I grow up, I want to wash my dishes in a timely fashion and always have my laundry neatly folded and never run out of towels because it's been too long since I last did laundry. 

When I grow up, I want to never forget someone's birthday or special occasion, and always have heartfelt things to send to people. 

When I grow up, I want to neatly skim the ice off my November steps and sprinkle them with a hospitable layer of salt, and not leave my frozen geraniums out until Thanksgiving.  

When I grow up, I want to be able to graciously smile despite every offense, every duplicity, every hurt, and curl up under God's shield of protection when the arrows flying at me are just too much for me to handle.

Yes, that's what I want most of all. 

When I grow up, I want to work in stillness, and wait in strength. 

To see the rest of the lyrics, or buy the song from Oasis Chorale

Saturday, November 15, 2014

August 12, 2017, and seven of the beauties I didn't deserve

Lately, I've been getting behind.  I see the book lying there and grab it, hastily scanning my kitchen table for a red pen to jot with.  Sixteen hour days don't motivate you to go home and write deathless prose, to paraphrase Frank McCourt in Teacher Man.

But I still have an entry for almost every day of the last more than two years.  I hope to continue to the end of my five year journal. 



I was looking through it tonight, thinking of the days represented by the sentences I left.  Someone's house fire.  A tragic death.  Moments of turmoil in my life.  Moments of wonder.  Me bemoaning the fact that I eat too much, two years in a row on the same day.  It's good I've conquered that
problem so completely!  (If you think I'm serious, see my last blog.)

Sometime this last year I switched to focus on the best part of the day, the part that I'm most grateful for.  That's when  I started writing in red.  Now, instead of a few sentences about what happened, I try to capture the beautiful moments of the day.

1.)"Breakfast at the Cock-a-Doodle with Lily, Brian, and Byron."
2.) "Swinging on the bench by the river talking to Grandma H.  My life is so crammed with beauty!"

3.) "The Somalian's brother saying he would never forget me and complimenting my modesty." 

4.) "Chris and Christine teasing me about being high on marijuana."  

5.) "Walking to the river with DaRion and the Laurel girls, then popping in at the guys." 

6.) "Dr. Halloran's final text...'you helped me immensely'"....."Dr. Dickson thanking me for helping him Sunday night with the info..."

7.) "Crying over God's love and the church bells by the river."




The book will be finished on August 12, 2017, if I live that long and don't forget about it.  But already I think it must reflect more beauty, more "saved by the grace of God", than anyone deserves in one lifetime.  More good, more blessings than I should have ever known.

So, while my sad comments about over-eating haven't disappeared, I know that God is with me, that he will be faithful in teaching me, whether quickly or slowly, how to fight each battle that comes my way.  Sometimes he delivers, and sometimes he gives the power to fight.

But enough to know He is with us! 


Monday, November 10, 2014

7 possible excuses for why I forgot to blog last Saturday night....

1.) Being at work for about 80 hours? 

2.)  Going to the visitation of a friend's grandpa, and reflecting on the day when I was standing in the casket line myself?

3.)  Losing my grip on my dieting plans and poisoning myself with an untoward mass of carbs? (See #1.)

4.)  Decompressing at my aunt and uncle's house until late Saturday night? 

5.)  Realizing that I have no food to take to the meal on Sunday and running to Meijer for a layered almond cake?  

6.)  Eating most of the cake myself because there was too much food at the meal and it didn't get eaten?  (See #3.) 

7.)  Kicking myself because I've just missed two birthdays and my house payment and it's almost Christmas and I have 15 pounds I'm not losing? (See #1.) 

There's always an excuse available for anything.  I now lift my mug of cooling coffee to say, I hope your week was better than mine, and here's to a better week! 

Til next Saturday night...







Sunday, November 2, 2014

What I want to be like at 93

I know what I want to be like when I'm 90 years old. 

I don't expect to live that long, but if I do....here's what I want to be like.

"But the gondolas in Australia were a lot worse," an old lady said, after discussing how her husband made fun of her for not wanting to go all the way up the Eiffel Tower.  "Going up was okay, but going down?" she shuddered. 

"I can't lose her," her husband had told me before the surgery. "I've lost too much this year."

He told me of the tragic death of a family member. 

Another elderly husband told me this week, "I don't really enjoy BINGO, but I guess I'll be playing a lot of BINGO this winter." He knew his wife would be recovering for awhile, and unable to go to her evening BINGO games. 

"Get him some cool prizes and he'll enjoy it," I suggested to his wife.

I asked another old lady what brought her into the hospital. She couldn't remember clearly.

"At the age of ninety-something, however old I am, memory is a little fleeting," she informed me, saying the word fleeting with a perfectly sharpened T.  

"Were you an English teacher?" I asked.

"No, but I've been asked that before," she said.  She had been an executive secretary, trying to keep track of important people.

A bit later one of our surgeons told her that the only treatment for her was a giant surgery. 

"Well, at the age of ninety-something, ninety-four, how old am I?"

"Ninety-three," the family interjected.

"Well you're not doing that!" she said, about the giant surgery.

"I'm not yet ready to shuffle off this earthly coil," she admitted. "No one wants to die.  But I have no quality like this."

"You should come play Scrabble with her if you get a moment," her family informed me.  


Moments are rare, but I'm hoping to do just that! 

Saturday, October 25, 2014

7 things neighbor Mary would say if you were discouraged...

Did I tell you about my neighbor Mary who knows everything?  

This is what I heard from her this afternoon when I collapsed on her couch, propping my feet ungracefully on her coffee table, and letting my head fall back against a pillow. 

I was debriefing with her...

....You can put your own name in place of mine!

1.)  There's one word God doesn't want us to say to him Katrina: can't. 

2.) God knows your story; he knows your situation!  

3.) God is for us.  The enemy wants us to think that God is against us, but He for us, Katrina!

4.) There's a lot of people in this world who would want to trade places with us. There are people in this world who have been in bed for 30 years.  Thirty years, Katrina!  

5.)  I'm going to walk the long road home, trusting God.   We got to face some tears in this life.

6.) Don't pray for a blessing on someone who needs God; pray that God chases them. 

7.) God gives us power; he gives us power, Katrina! 

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Instead of the blog I was going to write, 7 things I'm thankful for tonight

I was thinking of calling this blog "Seven things I should have done already", since it's after midnight and I hear my un-dry clothes spinning in the dryer, see my unwashed dishes in the sink over there beyond the pile of unfolded towels, see the un-written blog on this page, and realize I haven't started a PowerPoint that I need to have done by Thursday.

But I changed it to seven things I'm thankful for.  God does such a good job of reminding me to give thanks, and I always feel better when I do.

1.)  I'm thankful that I have clothes and towels and that, even though unfolded and undried, they are washed.  

2.) I'm glad that although the bug I found on my carpet and captured in a jar turned out to be a roach, my neighbor Mary who knows everything is confident that I'll eradicate them once I get to the pet store for a thing she calls "roach bait".  And I'm glad that my house isn't like the one I stayed at in New York City, where we would turn on the lights in the morning, and the roaches would scramble to their hideouts by the dozen. 

3.) I'm really glad for Diet Sierra Mist cranberry splash.

4.) I'm glad that my renewed passport came in the mail the other day, stiff yet silky navy, even though my publishers are still in discussion about whether it's safe for me to go to the Middle East.

5.) I'm glad my friends and I don't have Ebola.  It's truly a terrible disease without a cure. 

6.) I'm thankful that I was able to attend the BetterLife awards ceremony tonight and hear many great volunteer's stories, even though my nomination for Dr. Halloran was edged out by people working for nonprofit organizations.  That was okay though. Thanks for voting by the way!

7.)  I'm thankful this blog post is now complete! 

Saturday, October 11, 2014

My Mom's 57th Birthday, and 7 photos I would mail in her birthday card...

October 15, next Wednesday...This is the day my mom would have turned 57.

Fifty-seven is so young in the world of healthcare. My grandparents are all alive at around 80 years old.

In some ways, the more I learn to know God and the more my heart is softened, the more I miss her. If I could send her a birthday card, here are some photos I would slide in the envelope and some of the things I would tell her.

Did you know you have two sets of twin grandsons?

Did you know you have two beautiful granddaughters and two grandsons, besides Brad who you already know?

Those twins on grandpa's lap love him better than any of the aunts, I'm afraid.




You know how I wanted to be a writer, not a nurse?  I started working and I loved it.  My jobs became a source of healing for me, as I thought about the comparison of the physical heart with the soul.  I'm now a heart surgery coordinator.  I make lists of all the vocabulary words I learn from the surgeons and cardiologists and other well-worded people around me.  I work with a intelligent and caring team, the perfect alternate job for a writer.



This is the front porch of the house I bought after I started at my new job and realized God wanted me to stay in Elkhart.  In the process, some of my best friends also moved to Elkhart and I love going to their houses.  


This is my mentor and work partner Sue and I on pink hard hat day.  We made a human pink ribbon on the top floor of the parking garage.


We found the baby clothes you left us in the closet!





I have so many people who bless my life, that I wish I was better at blessing them back and not being impatient when people knock on my door.


















Happy Birthday! 

Maybe she already knows all of this....how can we know?  And if I would have time, I would tell her how God has blessed me several specific times on her birthday....so much so that I begin to wonder, what good thing will God do for me this October 15th?  But the truth is, I have so many blessings already, perhaps I wouldn't even notice.....God is so good.


Saturday, October 4, 2014

If beheaded and given a chance at last words, 7 things I would want to say...

I'm sorry if you're tired of my beheading drama...I really need to knock it off and realize the seriousness of what I'm saying, yes? 

But I have to say one more thing....as I was contemplating what it would be like to be beheaded, I wondered if I would be given a chance to say something (which I probably wouldn't) what I would say.

I've heard that every person should write their own obituary now and then to give themselves perspective, so in the spirit of that exercise, here goes. 

I would want to be able to say some sentimental things and some poetic things and some practical things...
1. I wonder what my mom will say when I come bouncing into heaven to find her!

2. I'm going to miss twilight, the time of day when the darkness and the light trade places, especially on the streets of Elkhart, or in Marshfield where I grew up. (But maybe there's a twilight in heaven.)  I think I would like for just one moment to set foot in America again....just to walk into a gas station to buy a Diet Coke after pumping a tank of gas, or to walk over the uneven cement of a sidewalk or to run at dusk to the river and clatter across the wooden bridges in the park....to see the Badlands of South Dakota again, or eat a buttery biscuit in Alabama, or sit quietly in a library among the odors of paper and the click of computer keys.  What a great life I have had, to have so many tiny little wonderful memories.

3. I wish I could see my weekly videos and photos of my niece Mya, watch her and all her cousins grow up, and play word games with their parents and aunt and grandfather and argue about geeky things no sane family should argue about at Christmas. But, maybe there's a peek hole in heaven.



4. I wish I could go to work again and get brutally teased by the surgeons and quizzed by the case managers and cornered by the pharmacists and questioned by the other nurses and paged by the cath lab and and ridiculed by the physician's assistants for eating a sausage pizza from the bistro. 

5. I wish I could walk home from work and stop at my hang-out house on Laurel street and eat a couple of gummy O's and lounge on my favorite couch and shoot the breeze before crossing the Sherman Street Bridge to my own house. 

6.  Oh death, where is your sting? Oh grave, where is your victory?   The trumpet shall sound and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed...

7. God is with me...and this realization, the most powerful force in the world, is stronger than all hate, than any nation, than any defeat.  

I hope I could think clearly enough to say a few things like that.  

What seven things would you say?  

(No guillotine talk next week!  Promise!)

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Why I hope to go to the Middle East, and 7 people's responses

God is so creative, so personal!  How on earth does He know our minds? How did he know my wish to go to the Middle East to write when I hadn't told him? After months of not hearing from my publishing house, I received an email last week asking me if I still wanted to write for them.  I said maybe, and asked if they had any ideas. 
He gave me a list of possible topics .  Second to the last: 
Syrian refugees §  Would have to travel to the middle east

I got the email while at work.  I nearly spontaneously combusted in the little critical care snack area.  My excitement was so evident that a bystander asked what was going on. 

I shared the email. 

1.  Chris looked at me as if I had gone suddenly insane and he should stuff a Xanax down my throat.  

Most people responded in a similar fashion with variations reflecting their personalities. 

2.   Christine threatened to email my family herself and told me I should not go. 

3.  Dr. Halloran said, "You are not going to Syria right now." He added that there are plenty of safer places than Syria to find Syrian refugees....an excellent point. 

When I got off work, I emailed my family and talked to my dad. 

4.  Scott, my older brother, replied to the email:  

Thanks for the update.  Definitely glad for the heads up before we see it in the news!

5.  Dad said that he had just told someone that any journalist who goes to Syria now basically deserves to be beheaded for being so unwise (those weren't his exact words)... never anticipating that his daughter was next in line.   

When I told my dad that I'm sure they would send me to a safe place, he said, "I'm sure that's what all the other journalists thought."  I hadn't thought of that before. 

I told him that's the kind of death I want to die...not now necessarily, and not foolishly, but dying for a worthy cause.

He pointed out (why are dads so wise?) that dying was probably the best part of their kidnapping experience.  

6.  The lady at the passport office who let me smile for my picture said, "There's probably a travel warning right now," with an ominous chuckle.



7.  My aunt and uncle suggested that I take a picture before I go.  
"You'd rather have a picture of me with my head on?"  
Yes, they said. 

And God?  His latest response to me has to do with my stressing over my upstairs lodger, and the little girls knocking on my door, and the speech I feel too tired to prepare, and the coffee I spilled all over my kitchen table.  He gently reminded me that all of life is a struggle, and can be handled poorly or well, without Him or with Him.  Going to Syria to chronicle stories of suffering is no more of a ministry than living well on Brady Street.  

So while I wait to see if I in fact will go to the Middle East, He teasingly suggested that I live well in the meantime.

God is so good!  
He is with us wherever we are, and wherever we go. 






Saturday, September 20, 2014

7 Perks of Being at Work for 21 Hours Straight

1.  It makes a 12 hour day feel almost like a day off.
2.  You learn that some disorder is self-limiting. Clean laundry piles (that haven't been put away) actually begin to disappear, since you are forced to take clothes off the pile.
3.  You're not burdened with the forecast.  You just completely missed that day's weather.  Who cares if it rained or didn't rain?
4.  You get a long nap, instead of a short night.
5.  You don't miss much of what went on while you weren't at work, because it was only a few hours.
6.  Meals lose their identity.  Breakfast could be leftover pizza or hard-boiled eggs or a sugar cookie.  (Are you sensing that my diet did not get reformed this week?)
7.  As Dr. Dickson announced late last night after a challenging seven hour surgery, "Who wants to be in bed at this time of the night anyway?"  

*Don't forget to vote for my story about Dr. Halloran a few more times before the contest is over!  Voting ends this Wednesday, September 24.*

http://www.mutual125.com/stories/walter-halloran/


Dr. Dickson, speaking to our kids about the heart at boys and girls club last year.










Saturday, September 13, 2014

7 Reasons You Should Vote for My Boss...

1. There's a community competition going on right now for a "better life" award.  
2. Dr. Halloran, one of the heart surgeons for whom I attempt to work, was nominated for his outstanding bedside manner with his patients and their family members.  (This compassionate nature was re-emphasized last Monday when he finished surgery at 1am and still took time to sit and talk with the patient's family after a 19-hour day.)
3. You can read the story I wrote at the link below, or if that's too much trouble, you can just vote with your morning coffee. (He approved my accurate story reluctantly, saying it was too kind.)
4. If he wins the award, he chooses a non-profit organization to receive the prize money.  (If he doesn't, his most inexperienced staff will be drug off to surgery without anesthesia for the medical students to practice on...VOTE, I said!)
5. It's easy! Just click on the link below. You don't even have to give your name. Voting continues until September 24th. Competition was fierce the last time they let us see total votes! 
6. When I was threatening to submit my story, I told him he might be too famous to win. They probably want to award an ordinary person who hasn't already been on a billboard. But it never hurts to try...
7. Thank you! 


http://www.mutual125.com/stories/walter-halloran/