Welcome to Your New Home!

Welcome to your new house!!

This was my first real house and I worked hard to make it feel like home. I loved living here. I loved this home. I was able to find much peace and beauty here and in Searcy. I pray these things for you too.

I wanted to share some things with you about this house. I suppose I feel like it is my child and I just want to tell you about it as I walk away.

Yard

I will admit that this yard can be a lot of work, but I have loved working in it. When I moved in there was little to no landscaping. Though there is still much to be desired, I have built and planted most everything.

The back yard has two dark pink crape myrtle bushes. I planted them to grow and provide a bit of privacy from the neighbors. I thought about planting a tree in the back northwest corner, but I didn’t want to block the view of that beautiful field. Along the west fence I planted gladiolas (I am hoping to have a beautiful vase full waiting for you on the cabinet, but they may not have bloomed yet). I originally planted them in the front yard in the brick bed I built, but I had no idea they’d be as tall as they are and frankly they looked silly. So, this spring, I transplanted them to the backyard. I think this shocked them a bit, but they are resilient. If you choose to keep them, I anticipate they will be even more beautiful next summer.

The back yard also had a blue bird house. I have spent hours sitting on the back porch watching Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird. There are currently 5 eggs in the house (unless they’ve hatched) and I am anxiously awaiting the chirpings of the baby birds. I anticipate that they will not hatch before I leave. This is their second set of eggs for this season. Blue birds apparently usually have two “litters” (I don’t know what you call it for birds) every season. After they are born you will see Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird feeding them all day long and the birdies will be silent until one of their parents arrives at the house and then you will hear a chorus of glories baby bird chirps. The house is falling apart. But I have deeply enjoyed watching them. I anticipate that they will also be back next spring.

The front yard has a brick bed that I built. I originally planted 7 tulips and they were beautiful. Despite being perennials though, I only had one bulb come back this year – I was disappointed. I also planted 3 mums which have grown beautifully. I planted them in the fall last year after the tulips and gladiolas were done for the summer and they did okay, but they seem to be thriving now that they’ve really had time to root. The two outer ones are purple and the middle one is white. On the end I have a white crape myrtle bush. It has really taken off this year. It needs to be pruned and cut back to keep it under control. I also planted begonias this year. They are annuals and will die, but hey were pretty and white for the time.

On the other side of the house there are a few plants as well: three white azaleas next to the house and a suffering pink azalea at the front of the house (I’m not sure how it will fair). That front area was originally mulched, but I laid sod down and I like it better.

Around the yard are a few oak seedlings. I had originally planted 8, but the ones remaining are the ones that endured last summer’s heat and the hard winter we had. I got them at the Arkansas forestry department; I wanted to get native seedlings that would thrive in Arkansas. The one on the East side of the house is too close to the road and looks a little silly now – sorry. I had thought of planting dogwoods on the east side of the house or crape myrtle bushes, but time and money.

I had the picnic table built. My original intent was to stain or paint it and seal it. The builder told me to wait a year as the wood needed to sit. I don’t know why I listened to that boy. The table needs to be scrubbed with bleach and sealed. I’ve been meaning to do it, but I haven’t.

I meant to get gutters hung. I’m sure once you do the yard will easily reshape itself. It will need a few bags of dirt and time will allow the grass to replace what has been washed away.

I’ve had a contract the last two summers with Fairway Lawns (501) 588-2696) and they have been excellent to spray weeds and nurture the sod that is still young. They have really helped the yard to be healthy and have been a great company to work with. If you wanted to use them you could ask to pick up with the treatment where they left off of the address.

I sat for hours in the back yard. It is quite cool under the patio. Sometimes you can hear the cows in the nearby field. The sun sets beautifully in the west and it is easy to watch. Sometimes I would sit and watch the rain. It has been a place of great joy for me.

As I said, it’s not much but I have truly loved working in this yard. I wanted to lay some roots, and I did. It has been very healing and encouraging to me.

Guest Bathroom

I took the door off of the guest bathroom because the two met in such a way that is felt crowded. It is in the garage and a baggie with the hardware is taped to it. It should go back up quite easily if you wish.

Master Bathroom

I left a squeegee hanging in the shower for you. Feel free to throw it away if you don’t want it. I leave it hanging in the shower and use it after every shower and it has kept the glass quite clear. I recently had some house guests who didn’t use it and I could tell a big difference.

Air Vents

The air vents are funny. They are in the ceiling and frequently spit out white flat chunks of paint (like annoying snowflakes). I assumed after living here a few months it would stop, but nearly two years later they are still spitting it out. So, if you see white stuff on the floor, just look up and you’ll see an air vent and know that it is just part of having a new house.

Garage

I’ve only been in the attic once and it does have floor boards over the garage area if you want to use it. I am leaving for you the water hose covers (they will be on top of the water heater). They go over the faucets on the outside of the house so your pipes don’t freeze.

The garage door code has been set as ****. I am leaving the booklet that will tell you how to change it if you want, but honestly, no one even knows the code.

ADT

I travel a lot and will frequently be gone for up to two weeks at a time. Because of that I had the ADT security system installed. As a single woman though, it brought me significant peace of mind. It cost around $50 to activate. It will be deactivated on July 1. I’m leaving the yard sign though.

Neighbors

I have met a great many of the neighbors. I met them while walking my dog. There are many single women in the neighborhood who are very dear. I hope that you will meet them. Many of them walk at night and it should be easy to meet them if you wish.

The neighbors directly across the street are a sweet young couple. They have two little boys. The youngest is a 4 year old red head who is a talker and will love to run over and talk to you once he meets you.

Up the road is another sweet couple and you will see them riding around the neighborhood in a golf cart. 

Mail/Trash

The mail comes between 2:30 – 5. It is almost always between 4:30-5, but I think there is a new girl and not it is closer to 2:30.

Trash pick-up is on Monday and Thursday. They come anywhere between 10-2:30.

Recycling is every Monday. They come before 9. I don’t know if you are a recycler, but I left you the bins so you don’t have to go downtown and pick them up. Sorry they are so nasty; they gave them to me like that. They do not collect glass.

I suppose that is really all I have to say. I’m sure I will remember something else later. I do truly hope you get settled here and feel at home. I’m not sure what your church affiliation is, but I found a real home at the College church of Christ. I know that you are experiencing much transition in your life, but know that as I am experiencing transition too, that I will be praying for you.

Flourished

She’s going to make an offer today. And then, within a matter of weeks, it won’t be mine.

I love this house, this yard. I’ve laid roots here: crape myrtles, gladiolas, azaleas, begonias, geraniums, oak trees; friends, community, life.

My time in Searcy has been beautiful. I have loved it. It has been a respite, a revival, a rejuvenator of my soul. I feel centered, refocused.

She wants to close much earlier than I  imagined. Forcing my denial to surface to reality.

I have missed the incessant beeps, the quiet hours, the midnight coffees, the smells, the fury that can come, the fixing. I have missed being able to walk out when the clock permits and know that for that moment I am done and not responsible. I have missed the hard conversations. I have missed helping them to pass. I have missed the good days of healing, of revival, of discharging them to the floor. I have missed the procedures. It has called me back.

I will miss the students. I will miss teaching. I will miss talking. I will miss forming those relationships and watching them grow. I will miss my colleagues who have taught me so much about a variety of things. I will miss chapel. I will miss the singing.

I will not miss grading.

I will miss this house, my home. My yard that I have relished working in. I will miss the bluebirds. I will miss the stillness of the patio and the beautiful view it implores.

I will miss College Church. I am so deeply thankful for the restoration of community, the reengagement, the realization of hope. I am thankful for dear friends who are heaven to me, who have showed me love, vulnerability, faith, acceptance, grace. I am so very thankful to have had a place, but even more, that a place was made for me.

As always, I do not know what Dallas holds. I do know, however, that God knows. He knows the plans He has for me.

Every opportunity has allowed me to grow. But I feel that I have not just grown, but flourished here. I leave with deeply mixed emotions. But I definitely leave with more than I came with. 

It calls to me

Our pinning ceremony was this past Friday. Graduation was Saturday. Another semester has concluded. Students have come and are now gone.

It is amazing how fast life goes by and how quickly things change and people move on.

I’ve enjoyed teaching. I’ve loved being at Harding. I have become so very settled in Searcy. I love living here. I’m able to be involved in church again.

Things are good.

But, I miss my work.

I miss the ICU.

Every time I step away it calls to me. Calls me back.

And before I know it, I find myself in my blue skin again with a mask on my face and a bonnet on my head.

I find a severely ill pt lying in front of me. Fighting. Letting go. Lying somewhere in between.

I find myself having intently difficult conversations with families.  

I find myself exhausted.

I find myself being used. I feel myself being used.

I feel God with me.

And so, this summer, I will transition from academia back to full time clinical practice in Dallas, Texas.

Where my story began.

“Where are you from? “

That question always eludes me. I have lived in multiple states, in all types of towns, been back and forth across the Mississippi river, never north of the Mason Dixon line. But people want a place, a town, a specific site.

“Where are you from?”

We left Senatobia, Mississippi 30 years ago. I was 5 years old. We packed a big truck and the family station wagon and drove across the country. Late in the night we pulled into a new driveway. Little did I know that my nomadic life had begun.

Mississippi to Oklahoma to Texas to Tennessee to Missouri to Tennessee to Oklahoma to North Carolina to Texas to Tennessee to Arkansas to…

It’s hard for me to comprehend that people are born in a place and stay in a place and live in a place and 20, 30, 40, 50 years pass and there they are. It’s hard for me to comprehend that I can drive 2.5 hours and rewind my life 30 years.

 “Where are you from?”

It was odd to see the people of my infancy. To see faces that remained in my memory but didn’t always have a name to go with them. To feel arms that had held me as a child to hug me as an adult. To hear a southern drawl that had once captivated my earliest of words.

 “Where are you from?”

But it really isn’t that odd. Time has no effect on love on people on truths. These people loved me before I was and love me still that I am.

“Where are you  from?”

My home has found itself in many places in many times. I am not from a single place. I do not know that. What I do know, is that one day, all those people from all those places and all those times will be with me and will love me because I am. One day, I will find myself with people who have gone before and will go after, who lived here or there, who knew me when. One day I will go home and learn where I am from. Until then I’m a pilgrim, a sojourner, a nomad.

“Where am I from?”

I’m from heaven. And I truly can’t wait to go home.

She smiled with her whole face.

The last time I saw her she was in good spirits. She was happy and smiling and proud. Dad and I sat with her and visited for a while. She really couldn’t hear a word I said. We all talked anyway and smiled. We flipped through her fashion magazines and she showed me some of her newest purchases. It was a good visit.

Time had allowed many visits as of late. I had seen her frequently and every time she greeted me with that smile. That smile that spread wide across her face, caused her nose to crinkle and her eyes to sparkle. She smiled with her whole face.

This time was not the same. We found her curled in bed on her right side. Quiet. Still. Rales rising with every breath. She had been this way most of the day.

Given the situation I couldn’t just see her as a granddaughter, I had to see her as a nurse practitioner too. I was concerned with her posture and feared she’d had a stroke. I began to assess her, to touch her, to feel her, to love her. I got in her ear and started talking to her.

Initially, I found her to be enslaved to the dehydration, the pneumonia, the congestive heart failure. Her eyes did not see me. They were glazed with exhaustion and malady. As I leaned over her body our eyes met, and then, for a moment, the glaze fell from her eyes and there was a spark in her eye, there was life. She knew me. She smiled and spoke words to me.

I continued to assess her and she followed commands appropriately. I asked her questions and she answered appropriately. She was there. She said her neck hurt but otherwise she wasn’t in any pain. Her breath was heavy and the rales of pneumonia were present with every breath. But she was not distressed, she was not hurting, she was sleeping. She was waiting. She was ready.

I think on three things.

1. Don’t make fun of your family. Always support them.
2. Don’t make people feel uncomfortable in your home because you are afraid they’ll make it dirty. Homes were meant to be lived in and not shown.
3. Be thankful for what is yours. Especially people.

Each of these have profound meaning for me. Meaning that she defined.

I sat on her bed for awhile and rubbed and stroked her back. She responded to the movement of my hand. Comfort flowing both ways.

They asked me to speak to the doctor. We collegially conversed and he graciously made time to talk. I was pleased with her care, with him. We discussed hospice. He ordered hospice. She was admitted to hospice.

Within hours her breath did not rise and fall with the rales of pneumonia or the exhaustion of congestive heart failure. Her breath did not rise and fall at all. She peaceful slipped away.

Days later, I found myself at the funeral home hours before her service. I stood alone in the sanctuary with her for a long time.

“Oh, it’s you” she’d said. “You’ve come to save me” she’d said.  

Doula do or Doula don't

Doula (ˈdo͞olə): a woman who is trained to assist another woman during childbirth and who may provide support to the family after the baby is born 

I am not a doula. I have not been trained to assist a woman during childbirth and time has not permitted me to truly provide support to the family after a baby is born.  

Yet, I have acted as an untrained doula three times. Encouraging, coaching, assisting, supporting, loving one as she labored in the effort that is required to bring forth life. I stood in my appointed place and waited with bated breath. The first time, was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. The subsequent times were equally brilliant.  

The fourth time I did not stand in my place. I waited with bated breath for hours upon hours. Guilt and disappointment and anxiety reigned within me.  

My eleventh living baby resides in another state and the first 13 days of her life have passed and I have not held or smelled or touched her. I have not heard her sweet bay of a cry, stroked the hair on her head, felt the softness of her skin, watched her moro reflex in action, or watched her siblings behold her in the way that young siblings do.  

But I love her.  

I love them all: Haydn Elizabeth Marie, Louise Jane, Jonah Andrew, Ava Annabel Leigh, June Bernice, Sophia Ruth Lynndea, Caroline Story, Corinne Alexandra Dara, Sadie Elizabeth, Olivia Parker Rose, and Rosalie Roan.  

I am not a mother. I have not labored to bring forth these little lives. As much as I dearly love each of them, I do not carry them in my heart as their mothers do. I do not worry over their comings and goings as their mothers do.  

I love them like an aunt does. Like a very good aunt.  

Doula do or doula don’t. Birth is a most beautiful thing, but it is but a moment. I look forward to the days and weeks and months and years of loving her, of loving them all.  

As a very good aunt should do.

Leave, Leaving, Leaves

I found it to be beautiful. The trees were a myriad of fall colors and the temperature was crisp but balmy. It felt good, it was right.

A part of me felt at home despite the unfamiliar that surrounded me.  

The longer I was there uncertainty and confusion began to register and settle in like a long lost friend that I had not seen for a time. Yet, like long lost friends, we fell back in sink, resulting in a rhythmic banter of queries, inquisitions, and reservations.

I found myself being once again carried away in the fantasy of the unknown and the appeal of the ensuing drama that would be my life; blind to the schedule, the loss of life, and the distorted sleep.

My desire has been to settle, to inhabit for a time, to stay, to dwell, to occupy, to reside, to make a home.

It’s hard when your work fills you with passion and steals your life. It’s hard when life is good and your work doesn’t fill you with the passion it once did.

Which is worth more? Life or passion? Time or money?

As always, so very thankful for Ruth.

For Cheers of All Kind

The words seemed to be so much more powerful today. Like poetry jumping off the pages and the PowerPoint to charge me with reality, forcing me to acknowledge known truths that are so familiar to me that at times they have become foreign and invisible.

The longer I sat the deeper I was touched and at times felt my eyes moisten with the beauty that I have claimed for my life.

 
I was sitting among family that reminded me of former days and made me long for simpler times, when life just felt beautiful and right and good. Days when life seemed to make more sense and the mystifications that lie with in me were quieter.

I sit now working, studying, evaluating my work and pressing on to complete and accomplish my task at hand. But within me resides a restlessness that results in a lack of focus. I find myself ambling through social media and observing “friends” I have known from so many various avenues and facets of my life. Some who live in a similar fashion to me and some who have embraced much different realities.

Life is truly so beautiful. My study, though different avenues, has always focused on the function of the human. I find myself now focusing more on the beauty of the soul and the intricate exquisiteness that is each one of us.

While I often long for those simpler times, I am so thankful for the time that has transpired since then. The trying times, the difficult times, the ugly times, the renewing times, the hard times, and even the confusing times. They each have yielded so much in me. I am able to see beauty and feel love and acknowledge blessings that I never knew before and in truth was incapable of seeing.

I sit in my warm office, being serenaded by the most tranquil music, and I am thankful. Thankful for time and people who are family, for old friends and new friends, for landscapes, for new beginnings, for peaceful resolutions, for truths that remain truths, for inside jokes, for knowing eye-contact, for smiles, for hands, for hugs, for familiar voices, for the ability to feel love, for cautious vulnerability, for understanding the beauty of pain, for cheers of all kind.

But we believe that human eyes, Beheld that journey to the skies.

Acknowledged, Invisible, Valued

We all want to be acknowledged, to feel that we are welcome and wanted, that we bring something to the table, that we have value. We want to be invited into community, to be accepted.

We fear being invisible, being ignored or dismissed, unaccepted, unwanted, and inadvertently devalued. We fear being overlooked and being pushed to the outside, forced to look in but not allowed inside.

It’s a simple act, to acknowledge someone: it’s a nod, a smile, a handshake, a voiced “hello” or “hi”. It takes little effort, but it in turn communicates acceptance, love, value. What begins as superficiality has the potential to bloom into an invitations of community.

We all crave intimate community. God designed us to be connected, to fellowship, to bear one another’s burdens. We were not designed to be alone or isolated.

So why, if it is so simple, do we hesitate to acknowledge? Why do we limit or deny community to those around us? Why do we stop short?

Sometimes we are too busy, sometimes we are comfortable in our own community and have grown complacent, and ironically, sometimes we are afraid to reach out in fear that we won’t be received.

We all want to be valued.

The last few years of my nomadic life have resulted in many social experiences. Some have left me feeling acknowledged and some have left me feeling invisible. In retrospect, I am grateful for all of them. Both the feelings of acknowledgement and the feelings of invisibility have taught me so much about the importance of healthy human interaction, about my own value, and the innate need for true community.

A Kindredness

The moment our eyes locked I felt a kindredness.

I did not know her. She was old and wrinkled, her hair was somewhat disheveled, her gait was unsteady, her pearly whites weren’t so much.

But the closer she came to me, the closer she drew me to her.

It was a soul connection.

She came to stand right in front of me. We smiled and then we embraced. In truth, it was the most genuine and uninhibited hug I have had in a long time. The kind of hug that warms you from the inside out; It was a whole heart hug.

And then I noticed her caretaker standing behind, “She has dementia. She used to teach at the school.” She said this to me apologetically, as if to dismiss any awkwardness that I had felt. I smiled. She was the only one with the awkwardness. “Oh” I said, “I didn’t know”.

My new friend and I smiled a moment more and then she went about her unsteady way.

I don’t know what it is with dementia, but it often has a way of drawing me in. There is a purity with dementia that is likened to that of a child; an uninhibitedness that leads to a  genuineness. It is a beautiful aspect to such a degrading disease.

I find it easy to interact with children, with elderly, those with dementia. I find it difficult at times to interact with adolescents, teenagers, and even peers.

We read in the book of Ephesians:

“¹¹ And He gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, ¹² for the equipping of the ^[d]saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ

We further read in 1 Corinthians chapter 12:

¹⁴ Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part. ¹⁵ If the foot says, “I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,” that does not make it any less a part of the body. ¹⁶ And if the ear says, “I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,” would that make it any less a part of the body? ¹⁷ If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything?
¹⁸ But our bodies have many parts, and God has put each part just where he wants it. ¹⁹ How strange a body would be if it had only one part! ²⁰ Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. ²¹ The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.”
²² In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary. ²³ And the parts we regard as less honorable are those we clothe with the greatest care. So we carefully protect those parts that should not be seen, ²⁴ while the more honorable parts do not require this special care. So God has put the body together such that extra honor and care are given to those parts that have less dignity. ²⁵ This makes for harmony among the members, so that all the members care for each other. ²⁶ If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad.

There have been times in my life which I wished that I could interact better with young people, that I understood more what to say, how to say, how to be. But even in wishing that, I wouldn’t trade it for my ability to interact with the child, with the elder, with those with the dementia. We are all called to something.

She left me with a smile. This woman with dementia brightened my day. I do not know who she was, who she is. I do know, though, that for a moment she was simply a Christian sister and we embraced as Christian sisters should.

The arms of Jesus wrapped around me today.