The 19-mile drive home from my old job used to provide me with plenty of time to unwind from a 12-hour shift, and finally some quiet space and time to think. It was easy once I returned home to jump in the shower, plop down in the corner of my plump Army green sectional couch, and whip out a meaningful, heartfelt blog that would make my stats soar, and fill my email in-box with lots and lots of encouragement. While I'm not wishing another 19-mile-home-from-work job, and I'm quite content where I am at now just 12 miles from home, (even though traffic at 5:30 p.m. is much different than traffic at 7:30 p.m.) - it's just not the quiet, peaceful, unwinding sort of reflective kind of time I used to have. It's no longer as easy for me to "plop" in the same corner of my couch and just kick ... View Post
The Salad Bowl, The Sink, & The Island
While moseying down the aisles at the grocery store last night, I spotted the very unusual bowl my friend Zhela always serves her salads in. I was so tempted to purchase one for myself - but I know my salads would never taste as delicious as hers. Isn't there some truth to food tasting better when someone else prepares it? I believe it's true, but I also wonder if it doesn't have something to do with that cool bowl she owns. I think it just might. Zhela makes thee best salads, and creates her very own salad dressings that she also pours from the prettiest glass bottles. I must admit though, that I always wonder if there will be enough, because really - it's not that big of a bowl! Recently Zhela brought a salad in that very bowl to my home for a gathering of about 10 women, and I ... View Post
More Than I Can Handle
In 1985 while sitting in my office in Korea, our mail carrier brought me a handwritten letter from someone, writing to tell me our friend Connie had been murdered in Italy a few weeks before. That was way, way more than I could handle. In 1991, at Loma Linda Hospital in San Bernadino, California, Mary Small, MD, did an ultrasound on me when I was about six months pregnant. She told me my daughter had no brain and would not survive outside of my womb. Then she asked me if I wanted to deliver now, next week, or just wait until I went into labor. That was way, way, WAY more than I could handle. When Jacquelyn was born on January 11, 1991, I held her lifeless little body all night, and someone came to take her from me the following morning - take her from me forever and ever. ... View Post
Cooking for One
If you know me, you know that I'll talk to just about anybody. That's why people think I'm an extrovert. But I'm not. While it's true that I can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime - the truth is that I love nothing more than coming home to my quiet little house where if anything is out of place it's nobody's fault but mine. The very thought of having to share my closet, my refrigerator space, or my toothpaste with another human being is worse than the thought of seven root canals. For real. Oh gosh, where was I going with this? Oh! Mashed potatoes, that's right. One of the most frequent conversations I've found myself in the middle of lately is that of sharing the changes that come with empty nesting. I've shared with three or four women lately, and one of them as recent as ... View Post
The Chinese Rubber
My nursing career has taken me a few different places over the last four years since leaving the unit I was on for 14 years, and so have my "school shoes," as I have always fondly called them - something I'd never anticipated. The stories in hospice and those in oncology are much different than those I'd brought home from my years in the ICU. But what hasn't changed is that I still wish I could call my Dad on the way home from work. He's been gone 20 years now, and I still get a good fun story now and then, and want nothing more than to pick up the phone and hear him laugh. And that is exactly what happened a few weeks ago. I love the meaningful, deep conversations about hard stuff. I really, really do. My friend and I call these "protein-packed conversations." But now and then, ... View Post
Old MacDonald “Black Bean & Sweet Potato Chili”
Ingredients: 2 Tablespoons olive oil 1 diced medium onion 2 diced garlic cloves 2 medium sweet potatoes peeled & diced 2 Tablespoons chili powder 2 teaspoons cumin 2 teaspoons paprika 1 teaspoon salt 28 ounces diced tomatoes Two 15-ounce cans of black beans, drained & rinsed 2 Cups water Directions: In a large pot over medium heat, add the olive oil. Saute the diced onion for 3 minutes, and then add the garlic and sweet potato and cook about 3 more minutes. Next add the chili powder, cumin, paprika and salt and stir into the mixture. Next, add the diced tomatoes and their juices, drained and rinsed black beans and 2 cups of water. Stir it up, and let it simmer about 30 minutes. Top with green onions, sour cream, & avacado slices. ... View Post
Why God Didn’t Make Us Little Robots
"Why is this happening to me?" It's a question that has haunted me for the past few weeks after being asked by one of my patients living with cancer. And if I can be honest, I get asked questions that are difficult to answer all the time. If it's not at work behind a curtain, it's in the prison where I spend time visiting inmates - mothers, daughters, sisters, none of them perfect obviously, but all of them asking many of the same questions. In fact, if you've lived on planet earth more than a week, they often ask questions that every one of us have likely asked at some point in our lives. Why did God allow sin to enter the world? Why couldn't He have created us to love Him without questioning anything? Why sin? Why did He create me, and why would He allow me to reject ... View Post
Finding Treasures in the Ladies Room
In 2012, I took my first trip to volunteer at the Passion Conference in Atlanta, Georgia when my younger son was attending as a college student. The details of where we stayed, when we ate, how we managed to connect at the end of the day, and find each other during those very long four days escape me 13 years later. To be honest, the days were so long that I don't even remember any of the details surrounding where we stayed or how we got to and from the airport. What I do remember is that I was placed on what was referred to as the "Touch Team," meaning I would have some sort of involvement in the everyday activities of the students. Initially I was placed in a group of about 50 people who would eventually be broken down into smaller groups, and then smaller, ones. And I'm not sure ... View Post