It is well with my soul. (Christmas 2011)
Today at church, Pat challenged us to answer the following question honestly. What weight are you under right now, that makes you want to lose heart? Essentially, what is weighing down on your soul?
I sat there thinking, and I literally couldn’t come up with anything. Not a single thing. When we started 2011 in the emergency room with Dad, I certainly didn’t think that would ever be my answer to this question.
A year ago, my answer would have had something to do with not being able to find a job, with a little no money left mixed in. It would have been about being stressed out and feeling useless. About starting over in a new place, without any of the friends who had become such a large part of my life and support system.
Eleven months ago, it would have been about how I was going to physically handle the care of my dying father, and emotionally handle saying goodbye to Daddy.
Nine months ago, I was incredibly stressed about starting a job I didn’t feel prepared for or deserving of, but was more perfect for me than I ever could have dreamed. It was that I had to play a part in healing children, while the child in me had hardly healed at all.
These days though, my worries have shifted, and now I only seem to struggle with finding ways to see all of the people I care about but live so far away, and the only thing I have to complain about is missing people too much. I struggle with wanting to buy every cute baby girl outfit for the most adorable little missy in the world, and complain that I can’t seem to make it out of Target without spending less than a hundred dollars.
So yes, it’s been a difficult year. My most difficult year, if I’m being completely honest. But, it’s December, and I’ve learned how to cope. I still miss my daddy a lot, but hardly a day goes by when I can’t hear him saying “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” in my head. I wish I could share with him how much I love my job, that the doctors aren’t as intimidating as I thought they would be, and that I care about other people’s pooping patterns more than I ever thought or wanted. I wish I could tell him that the best things about working at Johns Hopkins aren’t the awards or recognition, but the people I work with, the kids I care for, and the opportunities I’m presented with. I wish I could tell him about how the cute boy I talked about in January is taking good care of me, making me very happy, and still hasn’t been to a gun show. I wish I could see him just tickled pink while holding his beautiful granddaughter, and hear him brag about how badly Lompoc beat Cabrillo in the CIF Championship this week.
Instead, I use the compassion I learned while caring for him to give my patients a little extra love. I am sure to make the most of the opportunities I’m given, and I take the time, make the effort and spend the money to see the people I love most, and then I tell them how much I care about them. I hold that baby girl a little longer and I check the Lompoc Record webpage to see the score of the game.
As Christmas rolls around again, I’m sad that I don’t get to read what he would have written in this year’s letter, but I know he would have been proud. Of me, of Nate, of Liz and Billy and their precious baby girl. Of the LHS baseball team for playing through the last pitch and the LHS football team for embarrassing the Conquistadores not once, but twice this season. Of his parents for flying across the country to meet their first great-granddaughter.
I miss my daddy, but his love surrounds me, especially in the Christmas season. It’s in the 12ft Santa in my living room, waving at the cars of Baltimore. It’s in the green wreath he wore each Christmas morning that sits on my favorite piece of furniture from his house. It’s in the Thin Mints in the creepy elf cookie jar.
It’s been a long year, but it’s December, and I’m blessed.
It is well with my soul.
I sat there thinking, and I literally couldn’t come up with anything. Not a single thing. When we started 2011 in the emergency room with Dad, I certainly didn’t think that would ever be my answer to this question.
A year ago, my answer would have had something to do with not being able to find a job, with a little no money left mixed in. It would have been about being stressed out and feeling useless. About starting over in a new place, without any of the friends who had become such a large part of my life and support system.
Eleven months ago, it would have been about how I was going to physically handle the care of my dying father, and emotionally handle saying goodbye to Daddy.
Nine months ago, I was incredibly stressed about starting a job I didn’t feel prepared for or deserving of, but was more perfect for me than I ever could have dreamed. It was that I had to play a part in healing children, while the child in me had hardly healed at all.
These days though, my worries have shifted, and now I only seem to struggle with finding ways to see all of the people I care about but live so far away, and the only thing I have to complain about is missing people too much. I struggle with wanting to buy every cute baby girl outfit for the most adorable little missy in the world, and complain that I can’t seem to make it out of Target without spending less than a hundred dollars.
So yes, it’s been a difficult year. My most difficult year, if I’m being completely honest. But, it’s December, and I’ve learned how to cope. I still miss my daddy a lot, but hardly a day goes by when I can’t hear him saying “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” in my head. I wish I could share with him how much I love my job, that the doctors aren’t as intimidating as I thought they would be, and that I care about other people’s pooping patterns more than I ever thought or wanted. I wish I could tell him that the best things about working at Johns Hopkins aren’t the awards or recognition, but the people I work with, the kids I care for, and the opportunities I’m presented with. I wish I could tell him about how the cute boy I talked about in January is taking good care of me, making me very happy, and still hasn’t been to a gun show. I wish I could see him just tickled pink while holding his beautiful granddaughter, and hear him brag about how badly Lompoc beat Cabrillo in the CIF Championship this week.
Instead, I use the compassion I learned while caring for him to give my patients a little extra love. I am sure to make the most of the opportunities I’m given, and I take the time, make the effort and spend the money to see the people I love most, and then I tell them how much I care about them. I hold that baby girl a little longer and I check the Lompoc Record webpage to see the score of the game.
As Christmas rolls around again, I’m sad that I don’t get to read what he would have written in this year’s letter, but I know he would have been proud. Of me, of Nate, of Liz and Billy and their precious baby girl. Of the LHS baseball team for playing through the last pitch and the LHS football team for embarrassing the Conquistadores not once, but twice this season. Of his parents for flying across the country to meet their first great-granddaughter.
I miss my daddy, but his love surrounds me, especially in the Christmas season. It’s in the 12ft Santa in my living room, waving at the cars of Baltimore. It’s in the green wreath he wore each Christmas morning that sits on my favorite piece of furniture from his house. It’s in the Thin Mints in the creepy elf cookie jar.
It’s been a long year, but it’s December, and I’m blessed.
It is well with my soul.
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