A trust that is worthy

One of my patients told me today, "Wow, you really can do anything, can't you?" as I whisked in to silence his beeping IV. Some days I feel like super-nurse, the one who can make any hospital bed ten times more comfortable, get the physician to switch the diet order just in time for lunch, or convince the ultrasound tech to come to the room instead of having to bundle my patient up on a stretcher for a bumpy ride. Other days I'm not that fortunate. Those are the days when the fact that I can't let my patient go outside to have a cigarette because she's on a heart monitor ends in an emotional breakdown. Or no matter how many times I page, I just can't seem to get the doctor to order the pain medication my patient really needs. Or worst of all, I come in to bring the news that they can not go home today after all...maybe tomorrow.

Another patient looked up at me today and simply said, "Why should I trust you? I don't even know you." I had just brought in a new medication, one that I slowly explained to her would help her failing heart to beat more effectively with each contraction. But for all she knew, I could be bringing her anything. I could tell her that pill would do whatever I wanted it to. She had to trust me.

It is thought provoking to be in a position where someone is trusting you so completely. I wake up each morning realizing that, like yesterday, like tomorrow, I need to live today with 100% integrity. I am being trusted. I had better be trustworthy.

Lessons

I love it when God takes a day and through it winds together a constant message. A message especially for me. I listened to two sermons today, both laced with the same scripture, both gripping my heart afresh with truths I have known for a long time. Seeing though scripture men who "walked with God" and learned to hear his voice. Am I learning to hear and recognize his voice?

Dr. Don Carson made a profound statement at the end of his sermon tonight after preaching about the ironies of the crucifixion. "Jesus exclaimed, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' on the cross so that for all eternity, no matter what life brings, I will never have to say that." For that moment he knew the full wrath of God, so that I will never have to. The substitutionary death of Jesus and everything that means for me struck a chord once again. That God would have mercy. On me.

Sweeter far...

Home. I didn't realize how much I had missed it until I got there. I was flying this time, my first time back in three months. I watched the landscape changing beneath me, flying over the city, then the mountains, following the snaking freeway through Snoqualmie pass. Flat farmland of central Washington. And then, first subtly, then more definitely, the hills began to roll. I'm sure the feeling was partly because that defining change in landscape meant home was near and I would see my family soon, but part of it too was a deeper resonance. There is a part of me, however small, that is defined by the Palouse. By those rolling hills, the well known peaks, and the lifetime of memories that accompany them. As I saw the undulating farmland beneath me, my stomach tightened, and a small but sure well of emotion surged up within me. I was coming home. As I shared this with a friend this past week, he made the comment, "I miss missing home." It's true, there's something sweet about coming back to a place you have missed. You appreciate the time more. Well known spots seem dearer. Family time is sweet. I love being home, but I love missing it too.