I saw Brandon from HONY just down the block from where I live.
I was super excited, and approached him asking if I could get a picture of him. He was so nice, and agreed readily. I snapped him taking a picture of a young man in a wheelchair. He then asked me if he could take my picture. OF…
This is the type of stuff that makes all of the difference in so many lives. I would like to have an influence like that on so many.
I wrote this after a discussion with my sweet husband about what makes me sad. He looked at me like I had just fallen from the moon when I told him that sometimes I grieve for all of the people and places and experiences in this world that I will never know. I can’t help but feel that way every now and then.
In this big, old, immense world…it seems that missing what you miss out on is inevitable.
I am not perfect. Whoa. I know! Big surprise there.
Not only am I not perfect, but I am also very rough around the edges…I almost cry out for a good sanding. Almost, that is. Somehow, I feel that being rough around the edges is what makes us human and attractive and individual.
But, my point is….I make huge grammatical errors, I spell words wrong, I have run on sentences and incomplete sentences GALORE and I love to use these little dots….all of the time… There is more, so much more, that goes wrong with my writing. I hope that the good redeems the lousy.
What this entire little post is meant to say is: I am a work in progress. This blog is a work in progress. Please pardon my dust.
For those of you who know me, you will know that I have struggled with depression. It has been a very ugly battle…but it wasn’t always this way. It wasn’t until the birth of my fourth child that I experienced a full blown postpartum depression and it seemed to tilt the axis of my world just enough that I have been battling it ever since.
Last year was the worst of it, shaking my entire belief system and threatening to take me into the darkness. For good. After much help, medication and a great counselor, I have been able to emerge again. I am a changed person and I am still trying to learn who I am.
This poem was written during the beginning stages of my last major depression. I am a singer and a piano player and the kind of “music therapy” I had come to use and love through my lifetime just wasn’t helping like it always had. This is a reflection of me grasping at straws to pull myself to redemption.
Redemption lies between
the stark ebony and ivory.
Coming in the cadence
Tucked in the octave amidst the
half and the whole.
Redemption comes among
warm, worn, well loved melody.
Coming in the pause
Welcoming as cool turns to fervor
Fingers slipping over glossy keys.
Redemption comes in the midst
of the pensive warble
Coming in the reach
Pairing measure with articulated mettle
Cushioning, sheltering, dolce legato.
Redemption hides in the
rise of sacred, unassuming anthems.
Coming in flashes troppo
Infusing emptiness and desolation internal
Healing blemishes consummate to overflowing.
Redemption comes with each inflection
It is perfect solace in its earthly entry;
Ebbing its flow to decrescendo.
Even now my music doesn’t redeem me like it once did. I miss it. However, I am finding new ways and learning about things that are opening up my experience…and I am really enjoying them.
I work full time at Ogden Regional Medical Center. What do I do there, you ask? I am a Phlebotomist. For those of you who don’t know what that is, think of this: the person that comes at you with a pointy needle in their hand to draw your precious, precious blood. Yes, that is what I do.
My schedule is somewhat hairy. I work 70 hours in a 7 day time period. Fortunately those 7 days are broken up a bit. I work 50 hours then have 2 days off and then I work 20 hours and have 5 days off. Today is the beginning of my 50 hours. 5 days—10 hours a day. I lovingly call these 5 days on “The Trenches”. And honestly, I couldn’t have chosen a better term than that.
I quickly learned that I am perhaps the most hated person in the hospital. If I come to your room, it is only for one thing…and in order to get that one thing, I need to poke you with a sharp instrument. You wouldn’t believe how many times I get sworn at and yelled at and angry at. Just for walking in the room. As if I do this for the hell of it. Why wouldn’t I want to poke people and make them bleed? It’s a great way to pass the time. Pshaw.
Let me just pass a few things along for you consideration the next time you have to have your blood drawn.
More often than not, our minds make blood drawing out to be more painful and scary than it really is. Just breathe! It will soon be over and you’ll think “Wow! That wasn’t as painful and scary as I thought it would be! Thanks friendly neighborhood Phlebotomist!”
When a phlebotomist misses your vein, and sometimes we will, it is not on purpose, nor is it to torture you. Unless you are a jerk. Then maybe it is. I’m just sayin’.
Your doctor has ordered the tests for a reason. People forget that I am there on the Dr.’s orders and that my contribution will (hopefully) ultimately end in health and wholeness for them.
Enough with the VAMPIRE jokes, already!!! I don’t drink the damn blood! Please come up with some new material.
Now, for those of you who are squeamish at the sight of blood, I propose this to think about. Blood is amazing. It is absolutely amazing. There are thousands and thousands of tests that can be done on it to pinpoint what is happening in your body. It changes daily—hourly—and reflects your overall health with those changes. It is life. It sustains and gives us life. Under a microscope it is pretty cool. Heavenly Father knew what he was doing when he created the human body. Amazing stuff and highly under-rated.
This little profession of mine has spilled over into my every day life in odd ways. I am forever catching myself eyeballing peoples hands and arms for veins. I have a lot of repenting to do as well because I find myself coveting those veins and wanting to draw them. That is considered a sin, right? Vein coveting? My family thinks I’m sick in the head. I plead the 5th.
I have seen some sad and scary and gory things in this little adventure of mine. I see things I never thought I would see. Some days I weep. Some days I have to shake my head and laugh. Some days I come home numb. However, inevitably, I always return home after a long day in the trenches and am thankful for the gifts and blessings I have in my life. Health and wholeness and safety. Then I’m ready to poke some more.
This was a portion of a letter written to one of my oldest and dearest friends at a time when he was experiencing heartache. A heartache greater than he has ever known…and I wasn’t quite sure how to help him. All I could do was share the thoughts that were floating in and out of my little mind.
When I went out for my little “jog” last night and you came with me. Your troubles kept time with my feet as I tried to pace myself. As it was growing duskier (is that a word?) and I decided to head home, I turned the corner for the final stretch and there before me was one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. Pinks and peaches touched with blue and grey—the texture of the clouds reminded me of watching the tide roll in. It was gorgeous. I had the very specific thought come to my mind that we are all in different phases of our “day”. Some of us are in the dawn of experience; just emerging from the darkness and dampness of night, when the only light is the kind that doesn’t warm or uplift or edify. Some are in midday. They enjoy a time of warmth and security and light. They can see where they are headed and seem to know how to get there. Some are headed into the darkness of turmoil and turbulence from dusk. Some are stuck in what seems a never ending night. They wonder how they got there and when it will end. It is cold and unnerving and lonely.
The truth of the matter is, we all have our dawns and dusks. We move—sometimes unnoticeable and effortlessly—from one time frame to another, often times at the will and whim of others in our lives. Sometimes it is at our own doing. Whoever the fault lies with, we travel independently, yet together, in this never ending cycle of life, over and over and over. But, beauty follows, no matter where we are. The dawn and it’s saving light are the most beautiful to those who have fought with the blackness of night. The sunset and it’s glory are pure inspiration and promise to those who are leaving the day and heading into darker territory.
Right now, you are in the darkness and you know it. But dawn is coming. It will come.
I have come to recognize that often times the things I am trying to share with others through words are the things that I need. They are what I need to hear…and what I need to hear very often comes through me. Myself. It’s a lovely thought that what I need is something that I already have.