a flat tire, wal-mart, and love

i spent a good part of the day on friday out and about with shanna. we stopped first at rockwell’s, a local coffee shop, which perhaps isn’t so spectacular in the grand scheme of things but has won a special place in my heart with its free wireless, friendly staff, and generally quiet environment. being virtually internet-less at home has only succeeded in elevating the status of rockwell’s in my mind.

we decided to leave rockwell’s after some time in order to grab a bite to eat for a late lunch. after getting into the car, however, shanna realized that her left front tire had gone somewhat flat – or was at least lower than normal. so we made our next stop at the wal-mart service station next door. it was there that we met the couple.

they had pulled into the service station after us, and i only vaguely saw them through the semi-tinted windshield of their extra wide nineteen ninety-something oldsmobile. they appeared in the waiting room shortly after we had sat down, and i was completely struck by them.

for starters, neither of them looked particularly well. the husband was obviously suffering the ravages of some significant illness. surgical scars had altered his face, the skin of which was unnaturally reddened and peeling. blinded in his right eye by a milky-blue opacity, he kept his face lowered, revealing the thin mousy, brownish grey hair which had fallen out in patches. his wife was aged as well, worn by years of work and worry, but still with a round, friendly face. her silver hair was carefully curled and coifed, and she looked the picture of east texas in her flowery button down shirt and khaki pleated pants rising well above her navel.

looking up when they entered, i was naturally drawn to the man – torn between a deep curiosity to determine his condition, scanning his physical appearance from head to toe, making a quick assessment, and rifling through the roladex of possible diagnoses drilled into my head from semesters of nursing classes. in the tug-of-war which often characterizes human thought, i was also acutely aware that my stare might easily be misunderstood, and in the end i averted my gaze to the contents of the purse i held in my lap. not, however, before i saw this little old man bend over to speak and wave to a little blond darling of a girl, bouncing through her adventure of a day in pink and pigtails.

needless to say, both husband and wife ended up sitting only a few seats away in the generally cramped wal-mart service center waiting room. and, in typical east texas fashion, the four of us soon fell into conversation. we started off discussing the merits of the serviceman who had taken our keys and driven our cars away in a rather concerning manner, took a turn around the weather, and passed through stories from the holidays. after a few minutes of companionable silence (when once again the contents of my purse became objects of my intense interest), the woman’s voice once again broke into my train of thought.

“we’ll have been married forty-six years tomorrow,” she stated, with a glowing hint of pride in her voice – like the golden glow that remains after the sun has just dipped below the horizon.

“congratulations,” i replied, and once again i fell into my bad habit of staring. as i heard her describing their wedding day those many years ago, i saw them transformed into and young girl and her beau – healthy, dashing, and strong, a product of the iron-red earth. barely adults, they rushed headlong into marriage, intoxicated by love in all of its glory. married by a minister that almost didn’t make it to the church, they spent their wedding night in a freezing motel.

“i think you turned off the heat,” the husband had interjected, with his crooked half-smile, which i imagine had been broad and full in better days. “i think you just wanted to cuddle more.”

his wife had just replied with a girlish laugh, and i saw in her eyes the man her husband used to be and the overwhelming love for who he still is – the man she married all those years ago. it was beautiful, and in that moment, they were beautiful, too.

our names were called shortly thereafter, and shanna and i continued on to a late lunch and then to the rest of our day. i don’t know what happened to that couple, or how they celebrated their forty-six years of marriage on saturday, but i would like to think that it was a lovely day for both of them and that, more than anything, they were able to confirm the deep and everlasting love which bound them in marriage – the most intoxicating of foretastes of the unconditional and indescribable love that is our father god...

a funny family christmas

the best part about christmas, for me, is the inevitable family reunion. my extended family on my mother's side is all pretty close, although we only really get to see everyone once a year at the holiday get-together. everyone travels in from all over texas, and we hole away with a number of good bottles of wine and enough food to feed a small country.

as i have gotten older, i have started to notice and appreciate the idisyncracies that make my family so incredibly unique.

uncle peter: a towering blonde image of a dutchman, my uncle peter is the oldest of the five kids, and perhaps the most colorful character in the bunch. a photographer who lives in austin with my aunt ann and my cousins cole and willa, uncle peter rambles through the world with unpretentious abandon, be that walking around the house in yard in his t-shirt and boxers or taking a dip in the backyard pool in the balmy 50 degree weather that graced houston two days ago. with a distinct laugh and an enormous smile, uncle peter can always be called upon to liven up the conversation, and it was unsurprising to look over later in the evening and see him surrounded by all the guy cousins, doubled over with laughter and uncle peter gesticulating wildly to emphasize his imaginative story.

aunt irene: the first thing i always notice about my aunt irene is the white perfection of her beautifully straight teeth. her smile is enormous as well, and in it you can see each and every tooth. a dental hygienist who also lives in austin with my uncle clark - and mom to my cousins kimberly, wes, and brittney - aunt irene is a veritable fashion plate. although she is the second oldest of the five kids, she has always amazed me by the youth and vibrancy of her wardrobe. the best part, though, is that her heart and her hugs are as huge as her smile, and no matter how long it has been, i can always count on her fierce loyalty and love.

uncle frank: francis maria staats is the middle child in my mom's family, and it shows. the picture of diplomacy and grace, uncle frank lives in houston, and he and his wife sharon hosted the first night of our staats family reunion. the ever-gracious host, uncle frank is imperturbable (spelling?), and it's a characteristic of his that never ceases to amaze me amid the hubub of frenetic activity that is omnipresent whenever we all get together - we are nearly 36 people, after all. he laughs and jokes with us older nieces and nephews, and he's always interested in whatever is going on in our lives, but he is at his best with the youngest ones - just the sweetest of dad's and the most devoted of uncles.

aunt monique: powerhouse. that's basically my aunt monique in a word. tall, thin, and beautiful in her strength and vitality, aunt monique is the most energetic woman i know as well as loyal and dependable to the extreme. she's a physical therapist, and her and my uncle steve have recently started fostering special needs kids - in august, they adopted angelina and jeremiah joseph, the two newest members of our ever-growing family. to watch both aunt monique and uncle steve with the kids is inspiring, simply put. but nieke-nieke (as we all affectionately call her) is particularly amazing. every moment with her kiddos is a pt session - because both nina and j.j. need a lot of extra love.

i feel as if i've only just scratched the surface, but the reality is that every person in my family is a blessing to me, and i felt as though i needed to appreciate them in that, even if only in this small way.

this christmas has been different. as someone who usually begins getting excited for christmas in august, i found myself struggling come mid-december to really focus on the fact that christmas was fast approaching. i thought that finishing finals and coming home would help to jump-start that holiday spirit, and in some ways it has, but in many ways, it's still off. well, maybe "off" is a strong word; it's just been...different.

we're not at home this year, opting to spend the holidays with my oma down here in houston so that she won't be alone, as my opa died only a few days before christmas two years ago. and i'm continuing to discover how much my time in sierra leone has changed me and grown me. gifts have also been different, as we have chosen as a family to focus on actual needs instead of pouring money out on other things that are maybe less than necessary. these aspects, perhaps combined with others that i haven't yet realized, make for an altogether funny feeling - an alteration on the normal carefree christmas spirit that has characterized past holidays.

but at the root of it all, i am - more than anything else - deeply and truly thankful for those blessings which i can count that aren't wrappable or under a tree: the love of my family, food and laughter and warmth and free time, peace and goodwill for mankind, the grace of this advent season, and the overwhelming joy of christmas.

it's going to be a lovely christmas after all...

flying and falling

from a few days ago:

how do i describe this feeling? i have thrown myself into the great unknown, far and deep and wide, and i have fallen. my bruised and broken heart mourns the loss not that which necessarily was but that which could have been. question after question float lazily yet persistently through my head. they plague me, even now, and i find solace in the words of others shrouded in their plaintive voices – others have been here before. because the truth is, from time to time, we all are called upon to jump, and we do – no matter the bleakest of consequences – because it is so exhilarating to fly, if even for only a moment.

the birth, life, and death of a relationship is a key point of interest. unmarked by most, except the people most intimately involved, it happens all the time – so inherently common to our human condition, and yet always taking us by surprise. so funny.

there’s no real point to this today. my head’s too fuzzy to try to make sense, and for now i kind of like just being in this moment, in this feeling. in all that it is, it is new, and that in and of itself makes it noteworthy. it’s another thread in this rich fabric of life; it’s the bitter end of a vibrant and intoxicating drink, one of which we are invited to take in to the fullest.

the name of this blog is called drinking the cup – it’s a concept i ran across in henri nouwen’s book, can you drink the cup? which is, i can truly say, a book that changed my life. the perspective on life and living which nouwen outlines in that short, simple reflection is one which i have striven to adopt in all things, and today is no different.

the overwhelming truth is that i am loved, deeply and wholly and fully and purely, by the God that not only crafted my very self but continually holds me into being with his love every moment of every day. i feel the pulsing beat of that love within me now, and it brings me to tears, ones that heal and plant seeds of joy. my battered heart beats in time within me also, and will continue to do so. i don’t doubt that at all. and with time i suppose this will become another chapter in my life, and i’m okay with that...

three days ‘til christmas...

continuation on a theme:

in continuation with what i wrote yesterday, i stumbled across this which i wrote just a few weekends ago:

the leaves have all fallen off of the tree in front of my dorm. well, almost. closer inspection reveals a handful of the bright-yellow ones still clinging to the branches, despite the wind and cold. i can't blame them - this year hasn't been very fair. it was certainly warm enough for long enough to make anyone believe that winter may just not come this year.

but the weather has snapped cold, and i have virtually moved from skirts to sweaters.

the leaf flutters again. all his brothers and sisters lie scattered on the ground - yellow spots on the newly laid black asphalt. one more gust of wind...he's given up. winter's come.

winter means holidays. thanksgiving is coming soon. frost on the ground - warm, rich, moist kitchen air draws everyone there. laughter bubbles up and bounces around the rafters: little globes of colored glass clashing with the dark wooden beams and tinkling into a myriad of pieces.

tradition. family. community. these are the things which i am thankful for. the things which ground my heart when the november breezes blow. it's the hand that you grasp in the wind and rain. as cold as yours but warmer now for the touch.

it's the steady, pulsing rhythm which lays the bass line for the music of life - now allegro, now andante, now legato, but always there. it's the feeling of a mug held in your hands, the warmth bleeding into your fingers like a watercolor left out in the rain.

it's the faces whose lines and contours you know so well, yet whose constant animation keeps you entrhalled - plugged into every moment. it's a celebration of life, and it's beautiful. after all, life is beautiful, why shouldn't its party be as well?

life is beautiful in the wonder of experiencing a new thing. it is beautiful in the icy fingers of wind which work their way past your scarf and tickle the back of your neck. it's beautiful in the way light enters the world every morning and makes everything new. it's beautiful in the heart-wrenching sounds of music - a voice carried so high it breaks - a note held so perfectly long and perfectly pure it makes you cry.

life is beautiful in its sorrows, too. beautiful in its raw humanity - beautiful in the way that it touches your heart - beautiful in the way we are all connected.

sometimes do you feel so alive that you could die?

it's christmastime in the city...

if anyone ever asked me what i love so much about the holidays, i would have to think about it for a little bit. you see, there are so many things that i love about thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's. one, the fact that they come all together and that it's a holiday season. it gives you plenty of time to get all excited and really into it.

other things i love:

* the smells: absolutely nothing beats the smells of the holidays/beginning of winter. the cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice mixed with the fallen leaves, woodsmoke, and the iciness of the air that is almost a smell in and of itself.

* the feeling of having your middle all warm from the inside and out as you sit in a fuzzy hoody and drink a cup of tea while your toes, fingertips, nose, and ears stay a bit chilled.

* how everything has this strange mix of slowing down and speeding up. nature slows down as the trees fall asleep and the ground hardens up while people linger in coffee shops and in their friends' homes. but then again everything speeds up as squirrels and birds make their last dash for winter stores and those same people rush from one warm spot to another or engage in the holiday hustle and bustle of getting everything done and everyone seen.

* how happy everyone is. in new england, you pass people all the time, walking from one place to the next, and yet it's rare to ever make eye contact with one of these people much less exchange words. but in the holiday season, starting now - sometime the week or two before thanksgiving, something changes. today three people said hello to me as i walked to and from my dorm. a christmas miracle :)

* how you can take a moment to just sit back and appreciate life. and i mean life in its fullest. the good, the not-so-good. the people that make your life worth living. the ones that challenge you and encourage you and who throw their point of view into the mix every day, giving you new eyes through which to see the world. it's absolutely amazing.

there are so many other things - the smiles on peoples' faces, the wonder in the eyes of every little child i come across, the traditions, the music, the food, the laughter, the fun, the first snow (hopefully!), the family, the community, the one time where everyone will wish for peace on earth and really, really mean it...

while i don't ascribe to the fact that we haven't even had thanksgiving and most stores already have their christmas trees up are are playing the usualy medley of non-descript carols and christmas-y songs, i do love the holidays. because, you see, christmas and thanksgiving and all that come with it are so much more than santa claus and rudolph and presents and jack frost. it's about people and taking time out of the year to celebrate the fact that we are all people who need people, to thank them for who they are, and to welcome again the savior whose wonderful and amazing life made us all realize how beautiful life can really be within the mysterious majesty of god's infinite and indescribable love.

so to everyone out there, happy, happy thanksgiving and christmas. peace on earth...

happy to be human

sometimes you just have days where you feel so happy to be a human being. today was one of those days.

lisbee, lauren, brittany, bridget, and i went into boston today - to hit up all of the fall festivities which all hit on the same weekend in october: specifically the head of the charles regatta and the life is good pumpking festival.

there's just something about milling about in swarms of people that can sometimes strike you as oddly comforting. particularly when you have little moments of connection. i had a lot of those today.

* the guy handing out free samples of starbuck's coffee at the head of the charles, who was probably having the best day ever as the most popular person for that particular day...

* the fitting room attendant who could only laugh as we attempted to dress each other in the most hideous formal dresses we could find in the macy's formal section (you would be surprised how many there were!)...

* the mom at the pumpkin festival who could only join us in chuckling over the antics of her three year old daughter who preferred much more to walk over the rows of pumpkins forming the pumpkin maze rather than walking in the corridors and pathways they formed...

* the grad student from boston university squeezed next to me on the train home who happened to be from texas (as noted by her james avery ring)...

and then there were the moments where you just meet eyes with someone, and it's such a beautiful moment. how often do we really look someone in the eye? even in conversation with our closest friends, it's still fairly rare to make and hold eye contact for very long. and yet when you do - when it's an adorable old woman swaying with the motion of the train, firmly grasping the bar with one hand and the edge of her oversized cream-colored cardigan with the other, who meets your eyes and responds to your smile in kind, smiling so much her eyes disappear underneath a field of wrinkles - your heart can't help but sing at the common-ness of our humanity. of the wonder of the god who loves us all into being every moment of every day and connects us in such a deep and profound way.

i'm home now, but my heart still burns with life, a life so much better shared with those around me - the ones upon whom i rely so strongly and the ones that the world would label stranger but who so much more deserves to be brother or sister...

kayak on campus

so i was waiting outside my 3 pm class this afternoon - flipping through the pages that i hadn't read, hoping (as one generally does) that somehow i would be able to glean the contents of those leaves with a simple glance and that i wouldn't make a fool of myself in class discussion.

now i have to take a step back. there's a class that meets in the same room, right before my class which always runs right up to 3 o'clock, and i have never known what class it is. sometimes you walk into a classroom and you see notes scribbled all over the board and you can sort of figure out what you're dealing with, but this professor apparently never writes anything down, making my curiosity unmistakably peaked.

so, back to the hallway...

suddenly, the door opened and out poked the tip of a paddle, followed shortly thereafter by a student - a guy my age or a little older. he set the paddle against the wall, re-entered the classroom and closed the door behind him. absolutely perplexed and obviously intrigued, i cautiously returned to the flipping pages, keeping one eye overtly on the classroom door.

a few minutes later it opened again. this time the first thing that greeted my view was a blue plastic conical object which, a split second later, i realized was the nose to a bright blue kayak. the same guy carried out this kayak, placed it in the middle of the hall, and began to matter-of-factly stow the paddle in its special compartment. after getting over my sheer surprise, i saw that this guy was actually wearing swimming trunks instead of shorts, and these crazy water shoes instead of sandals - they looked like a cross between barney the dinosaur's feet and the toe socks i used to get for christmas and treasured beyond anything else.

so completely tickled, i had to ask the guy what on earth was going on. public speaking, he replied. he had just given a speech for his class on kayaking, and the kayak was his visual aid. with that, he hoisted the kayak to his shoulder and set off down the hall.

it was all so matter-of-fact. of course there's a kayak wandering around my campus, isn't there one on yours?

13 hours

some days are just long. today was one of those days. i left my room at a quarter to nine this morning, and i'm just getting back at a quarter to ten tonight. thirteen hours. lovely.

actually, to be perfectly honest - i don't mind the long days. sometimes i prefer them. i feel as though i have accomplished something, i don't get sucked into watching mindless television, and i really enjoy coming back to the room and my roommates - like coming home after a long day of work.

so what filled my day? all beautiful things, really. i had my maternal/child health nursing theory class from 9-12, which is has continued to be the highlight of my week this semester. then i had a break for lunch (tuna sandwich - wonderful). then i met up with one of my bosses - the project coordinator for a research initiative that i help out with. it's focused on maternal/infant bonding and communication in mothers with post-partum depression. absolutely incredible project to be on. the work can for sure get tedious (who really adores data entry?), but just knowing what i'm working on/toward is so incredibly exciting, and the people are so great.

then i was off to my theology class: ethics in international relations. so interesting - definitely over my head a good 85% of the time, but really engaging and pushing me toward greater awareness and real critical thinking. not just the analytical thinking of high school or some of my underclassman classes, but real critical thinking which demands that i personally engage in the material being discussed. today we talked about inter-religious dialogue and its role in international communication. like i said: so interesting. that class lasted until five, and then i headed off to babysit.

after quite the rigamarole to find a babysitting job (including going out for an interview which i never made because i got on the right bus only to find that it was taking the wrong route and ending up in the middle of nowhere) - i stumbled across a family right near campus with three adorable boys, an equally adorable mother, and beautiful, healthy, organized home. tonight was my first night, and i got acquainted with the boys and their habits while they ate dinner, did some homework (the oldest is in second grade), read story books, and went to bed. they are 7, 5, and 18 months - and i realized over the course of the evening how much of a blessing it is to get off campus and into a home, especially a home with kids. i loved every minute of it.

so now i am back in my room and have in one sense very little to show for my day except for sheer exhaustion, but in another sense i was blessed with many beautiful moments - where i was encouraged again and again that my heart's beat lies in maternal/infant care, where i was challenged academically and personally to look again at how i view the world, where i was able to catch up with a superior that is quickly becoming a friend, where i held a baby in my arms as he drifted off to sleep...

i can't think of a better way to spend 13 hours of any given day.

the scale of suffering

for about a week now, i have been meaning to post on my blog - talk about the first week of classes, my roommates, the transition, etc. but i'm glad, in a sense, that i'm such a procrastinator because thursday was my first day of clinical rotation for the semester, and it was such an amazing experience.

on thursdays i am at a hospital here in boston on a medical intermediate care unit - we generally have strictly medical patients who present with end-stage heart disease, post-stroke, renal failure, or end-stage liver disease, waiting for a transplant. they are very, very sick people often on upwards of twenty-five different medications for all of the complications and complexities of their diseases.

my patient on thursday was one such patient. she is fifty-five years old and dying from lung cancer. she's been fighting the cancer for a few years now, but then a few weeks ago, everything was complicated by a massive stroke which left the left side of her body paralyzed. when i saw her, she was continuing to have many issues including a decreasing mental stability. she was seeing people in the corners of the room or standing above her chair - people who she hated or people that had hurt her or random strangers. it was relatively overwhelming, to be sure - especially because i haven't taken the psych nursing class (that's next fall), but i was definitely blessed to have the help of another girl in my clinical group.

i was just so struck by the fragility of our human lives. i saw her lying there, staring off into the corner, the left side of her body completely useless to her, and i imagined what she would have been like only a few weeks ago. she was young and vital, completely bowled over by a series of severe and crippling diseases. seeing her and caring for her didn't make me never want to get old or never want to be in the hospital - maybe that's still the adolescent sense of invincibility in me - but it did make me take a minute and fully appreciate what a blessing my mind and my daily functionality is. i did yoga on friday with my roommate, and i'm still incredibly stiff and sore, but at least i can still move, at least i can still determine reality from hallucination...

it was difficult, in a way, to be in the hospital state-side again - to see everything that is made available for these patients, and then to think back to my own experience or to read the blogs of my friends still in sierra leone and hear about the struggles with equipment and medication and even more fundamental things like electricity and water...but, in the end, i have to enter into the suffering of the person i am with. i couldn't deny that woman the support, respect, and love that she needed just because she happened to have access to top notch healthcare.

suffering and pain cannot be measured on some absolute scale...

my heart was singing

yesterday i took a trip to the grocery store, and it was absolutely lovely. i rode the t out with lisbee who was headed down to new york for the weekend, and we were both sitting next to each other when a young mom and her three children came on the train. a little boy, noah, jumped on first – probably six or seven years old. following him was a little girl, leila, who i would guess was just a few years younger than her brother, perhaps four or five. then came mom pushing the youngest in a stroller – a bright-eyed, super friendly toddler with just a small tuft of hair crowning her chubby, round face.

the next thing i know, leila is standing in front of me: ‘can i have a seat, please?’ her small face was full of all sincerity, completely ignorant of how rude or odd that question might come across if asked by an adult yet in full faith that because she asked, her question would be answered in the way she wished. i quickly hopped up from my seat and stood nearby, holding on to the bar and swaying with the train’s sometimes gentle, sometimes jerky motion. the trees and brownstones passed by, and lisbee and i fought outright smiles to hear this little girl have a conversation with her brother while the mother stood there and the toddler smiled away.

sitting here and thinking about that moment, i am struck by the raw innocence which i encountered that morning. a living example of what it means to approach the father with child-like (not childish) faith. i think i might have to name my daughter leila someday...

the grocery store itself was wonderful. i’ve been going more an more to trader joe’s a really inexpensive co-op, mostly organic little place which has spotty selection but always great, healthy food. it was so exhilarating to have my list and my little basket and walk the aisles again picking the things i need from the shelves. i love grocery shopping. i love buying produce and seeing all of its potential. i think of all the ways i’m going to prepare it, and i get so excited. i also purchased canvas grocery bags yesterday – to take a page from my sister – and it was so absolutely lovely to walk out of that grocery store, my two bags full to the brim with promise and potential, feeling one with the earth and god’s creation and his people. my heart was singing...