Monday, May 17, 2010



well, breathe....he is HOME.



and what a sweet reunion it was. low-key. no pomp-&-circumstance. no screaming babies or oodling wives. just us. the airport. and a few other spouses. perfect. {not that i don't love babies or other wives, mind you...}


he is tired, but adjusting quite well to the crazy change in time-zone. i put him to work right away unloading our two PODS we stored all our household LIFE in over the past 12 months. we worked for almost 9 hours on Saturday unloading, carrying, packing, unpacking, lifting, arranging, settling. and ever-so-slowly, this tiny temporary apartment is beginning to see the signs of life, of home.




and we are adjusting, too. after i woke up with a strange man in my bed on saturday morning, i remember that he is home & that here starts the new life together. boy are we excited about it.

after 3 years of marriage spent 3 states apart, we are FINALLY together. a bit counter-cultural (albiet we-like-to-think Biblical), don't you think?

while he is adjusting to the wonders of American life again (ice cream! yummy food! attractive non-painted-in-pink cars! the english language!), i'm adjusting to having him around. and i'm finding little signs of his presence everywhere.



it is a good feeling. to have this deployment behind us. and the God-planned-life ahead.

"There will come a time when you think everything is finished. That will be the beginning."
- Louis L'Amour

Mr. L'Amour, my thoughts exactly.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010



it's here. finally. and the deep breath i feel like i've been waiting to take hasn't yet come. but in the meantime, until i can breathe it all in deep, my mind has wandered. and while i've spent my quiet nights alone reading, listening, trying to find the pattern in the mash of words that constantly fill my thoughts, i've realized that i'm in a bit of an inspirational desert.


writing ebbs & flows. i like to call it the perpetual roller coaster--one i always seem to be riding but can never fully grasp a pattern in its motion. and so i've decided to take it as it comes, to embrace the desert. things might look different around here for while (oh who am i kidding....are they ever the same?)...but i'll come back eventually with more words, more sharing, more heart-feelings from the bodies & spirits of those i'm blessed to encounter. in the meantime, i've made it a goal to share more non-medicine-related stories. more about us. i feel like i've been so focused on documenting my thoughts that i've forgotten to document our lives.


so onto the summer. it is finally here. i'm back on the east coast (as of 3 weeks ago), soaking in the humidity & simply waiting for jon to come home (we are so SO close!). i finished rotations last thursday (i was privvy to 4-day work weeks during my [last & final] dermatology rotation--good planning on my part). i've gotten necessary appointments, grocery shopping, & what-can-i-make-from-nothing-crafts out of the way.


and now God teaches me patience.

{this might be the ugliest "welcome home" sign EVER. not even kidding.}

it isn't in my nature (thankyouverymuch mom) to sit & be still. i'm a busy-body (usually, unless it is 5am in which case i'm a sleepy crabby body). and although i cherish my quiet time in my own space, spending ALL DAY in the quiet of my own space is a challenge for me. my residency program has been an answer to prayer & is allowing me to start two months late & arrive with jon. their graciousness will allow jon & i to (for the first time!) be married, live together under the same roof, & get to know each other again after 12-months of living apart & before the craziness of residency begins. i still will have a (hopefully) busy schedule: my prayer is to fill my mornings with studying & projects (yup, i still have a secret that can't be shared yet!, i'm not preggo) & my afternoons with photoshoots. jon gets my evenings.


i'm getting little whispers from UpThere that this summer will be full of lessons--ones that God has been patiently waiting for the last four years of busy-ness to teach me. lessons about money management, grocery shopping (could it be?!), efficiency, blessings, sleep, morning-person-ness (ahh!), studying, family, marriage, & learning to love medicine all over again.


quite frankly, i'm worn out. my rotations over the past 2 years have been far from rigorous--& most of that was intentional. after two solid years of studying & an emotional rocket-coaster (much more intense than a roller coaster, i assure you). i'm slowly discovering the kind of medicine i want to practice, the type of patients i love to spend my days with, & the environment in which i feel that i can (& will) thrive as a physician. and as time goes on, God keeps whispering that my "ideal" world of wifely-hood, mother-hood, & physician-hood can in fact become a reality...with intention & the blessing of His plan.


so here i am. ready to take on the summer. ready to have jon home & settled. ready to have a couch (instead of one very loved recliner & a borrowed card table) & the rest of our stuff semi-unpacked. and ready to take a deep breath...


here's to you, summer. i think we'll make a good team.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010


hair crow-black, a veil to the sights of the world.

cuticles picked, raw from nervous habit.

too-large sweatshirt. wringing hands. tapping foot.

he slumped on the oversized couch, shoulders hunched, waiting for questions; waiting to answer.

the yes’s came in droves.

yes. i feel guilty.

yes. i sleep all day.

yes. i’ve skipped school.

yes. i don’t feel like eating.

yes. food is disgusting to me right now.

yes. i have thoughts of hurting others.

yes. i tried to slit my wrists last week.

yes. i sliced my neck open with my pocket knife.

yes. i overdosed on pills.

yes. my father left.

yes. my mother can’t pay her bills.

yes. our cupboards are usually empty.

yes. i have thoughts of suicide.

yes. i’m tired.




yes. i’m only 16.

yes. you can help me.


and just when i think i’ve had enough of my long days, needy patients, demanding patrons, & angry mothers…

the yes’s come.

and when i throw out judgment like candy at a summer parade, blind to the grief that lies beneath…

the yes’s come.

and i smile with my eyes instead of my face, not wanting him to think i’m laughing at his tragedy. the windows to his soul empty, flicker bare his face smiles back instead. and i think that is good enough for now.

the yes comes. a resounding yes…

yes, i’ll help you.


{i’m thanking God today for the nonprofit & charity-sponsored crisis organizations that help patients like him…have you considered supporting your local psychiatric crisis center?}

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