On waiting and the harshing of my peace bubble.

20160205_145500-1-21210692561.jpgOne of the challenges of nursing is that every, single thing we do is time-sensitive. Each task has a deadline, and many can have serious consequences if they’re not accomplished within the appropriate time frame. Actually, pretty much everything we do all day, every day can have serious consequences. Nursing is just a profession with an aura of constant pressure looming beneath the surface because we have people’s lives in our hands.

Many of the tasks we do have pre-set “due times”. I have no problem with these. These are the manageable ones that we know about at the beginning of the shift, and can somewhat plan our days around. My overly-organized self really likes these because you know what’s expected and when it’s due. I get an embarrassing amount of comfort from this.

What messes up my beautiful organization, though, are the interruptions. The unexpecteds. These can just happen at any time throughout your beautifully-balanced day and throw everything instantly out of whack.

The thing is, though, with all of these unexpecteds, there is always someone waiting at the other end of it. And they’re interrupting me because there’s something they need me to do.

Now.

It could be menial, it could be life-saving. Sometimes it’s even something absolutely ridiculous. And it could be a patient, a colleague, or a doctor. It really doesn’t matter – whatever it is, they’re waiting for me. Right now. Now. And it doesn’t matter what else is going on, who else also may need me at this very moment. They’re waiting for me now. Waiting. For me. Right now. Me. Now.

And this, my friends, is what absolutely harshes my beloved little bubble of peace.

The perpetual “nowness” of it all can get to me sometimes (obviously). The shifts are long, the interruptions are endless. But … it’s also the nature of nursing. People are at their most vulnerable, and they need you to be there for them. And it’s usually going to be right now.

The beautiful thing is that this afternoon I’m home. I’m sitting on my porch, healing. The weather is clear and cool, and everything is still. Just so still.

I have no plans, and no timeframes to stay within. It’s truly beautiful. There are no phones ringing, no beeps, no interruptions. And the best part is that the only one waiting for me right now is Rocky who’s convinced that he’s starving. Again.

Isn’t it funny how God made me to utterly crave such order and peacefulness, yet he led me to a career that absolutely laughs at that? Yep – it’s hilarious. Not. It’s actually pretty painful sometimes. And there have been a few mid-shift meltdowns to prove how not funny I actually think that is. And there were witnesses, unfortunately. Of course.

But I know that God loves me. He’s teaching me through all my challenges – whether wrestling with Lupus or Nursing – to not search for peace in my own sense of order. He’s teaching me to find my peace in Him.

So that’s what I’m doing today. I’m healing. I’m resting. I’m still. And He’s right here with me today, just like He is through all the crazy unexpecteds. Loving me. Teaching me. And waiting. Just for me.

Thanks for growing with me. ❤

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

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