27 October 2012

Die to Myself

Life, please slow down yet speed up all at the same time; there is not enough time in a day to get everything done but yet I wish I could fast forward to May 2015 when I hopefully graduate with my BSN (Bachelor of Science in Nursing). College has overtaken my life, leaving me nearly nonexistent and savagely burned out but why — because I’ve been fighting on my own insufficient strength out of adamant fear and aversion. I am completely and undeniably incompetent but yet my stubborn streak of relentless determination will not be squelched; life has passed by in a mere blur, faster than my small mind can comprehend, and I have not taken the time to slow down because it is, after all, what my soul destined for speed hates most. Slowing down does not come easy in any sense; when an extensive seven hour spinal fusion threatened my sole existence, slowing down was not an option and four years later this unfortunately hasn’t changed. Countless nursing classes and unending hours spent studying as well as working, volunteering and writing a book are but a small glimpse of my chaotic life. Time seems to be but a figment of my imagination as none seems to be spared for my own existence and desires. A part of me wants to resort back to the abounding comforts of childhood and a life free from obligation as well as responsibility but then I remember that there is a time for everything and that time has brutally expired.

After painfully reliving the endured yet still painful trials, I have been distancing myself from the King of Goodness; reliving the nearly unthinkable pain in order to bring freedom to others is emotionally draining yet I trust the benefits will far exceed the costs. Fear overwhelms me as I expose to this fallen world the abysmal and exceedingly vulnerable wounds of my heart; fear seems to be ever-present as I practice competent nursing care despite the abounding insecurities residing within my fragile soul. Fear has become a part of my microbiota because God is not at the center of my wounded heart — the selfishly sinful desires of my fallen soul have taken His place amidst the chaos of life. My pride has to relentlessly be shattered in order for impenetrable strength to be feasible.

The stabbing wounds of my past have ruthlessly come back to haunt me and the devil loves nothing more than inhumanly beating me with daggers meant to eradicate life. The book I am getting ready to publish is filled with agonizing pain I’ve never yet enlightened — each page filled with raw emotions and disregarded blood. “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear” (Ambrose Redmoon).
God, use my pain to enlighten beauty in the lives of others; don’t let a single tear shed from my once lifeless eyes be wasted but rather brought to purpose. Restore the abysmal wounds of my shattered heart — protect its very existence from the annihilating daggers thrown at it. Give me words to speak and overwhelm every inch of my incompetent being with Your loving presence. Speak through my pain. Give me strength to relive the past and approach the world with a translucent heart. Rid me of myself. I pray most of all that I would decrease so You could increase; let the world see Your faultless image of love and purpose.

Despite the intensity of nursing school, I refuse to give up volunteering — it is the one place my heart brilliantly sparkles. Last week I was voted to paint pumpkins with the Akron Zips football team and have never felt so small in my life; it was quite hysterical to see these giants in the presence of a children’s hospital, surrounded by nearly microscopic chairs and tables merely several inches off of the ground. The experience was awkward (scars of past abuse have left me vigilantly uncertain of males) yet absolutely astounding — to see these young men sacrifice their valuable time merely to paint pumpkins with oppressed children stuck in a hospital was exceedingly beautiful, convincing my shattered heart that males are not the enemy (at least not all). Volunteering this week as well was nothing short of beautiful, reminding me of the future I have been called to; nursing may not be easy but remains my unaltered calling.  ““Behind every specific call, whether it is to teach or preach or write or encourage or comfort, there is a deeper call that gives shape to the first: the call to give ourselves away - the call to die” (Michael Card). 

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