Pretzel Day

Do you remember how Stanley feels about Pretzel Day?


I’m all in with him. There are few things that get my German half as giddy as a fresh soft pretzel+mustard+beer (about 1/2 of a bottle because then I’m done and want to move on to whiskey). And you know what kind of pretzel/mustard I’m talking about.  the salty/shiny thick crunch dark blanket of crust over a soft chewy hunk of hot dough…..yeah.  I need to take off my sweater now.

And as for mustard, it has to be that super grainy/mustard seed stuff.  None of that yellow glue. Last night my sleeping wish was that it wouldn’t snow and that I’d get called off work.  Of course I really didn’t expect either to happen and wasn’t really leaning on those but low and behold BOTH arrived at 5am this morning!!!


So I got up with the Sweet Jon-Athan and we had some early morning coffee and after he left I got myself all snugged in my bowl-chair and bathrobe, and continued to caffeinate while doing a little Bible study time.

A picture of me between 6am and 10am today.  Sent to the sweet man who worked.

(don’t get me wrong here, this is day 2 of an earnest attempt to do so actual Bible readin’ (I’m doing this study and trying this devotional /I really it feels like school but it does get me to spill my crazy beans out to God more than I normally would so all in all, probably something that I could do a little more often.  We will see how long this 2 day steak lasts.  My guess is till tomorrow because then I actually have to work and it will be too easy to take 0% of what I read and prayed for into real challenging life and I will then need to start back on square one on Friday.)

So yeah the sky didn’t open and dump winter diarrhea all over Pittsburgh!! PLUS I totally didn’t have to go into work and it was glorious and I felt like the kid who found out school was canceled and they thought it was a dream but it was real!

So after snuggling with coffee and light snow outside I decided I had to bake something.  Now, I’m trying to cut back on sugar baking because I just end up eating way too much of it and Jonathan is giving up sweets for Lent, and he is one of my very favorite people to make sweet stuff for so if he won’t eat it…well it’s just not as much fun (and I actually just eat all of it then).  So I got over my yeast-fear and bumped out some homemade soft pretzels.  Not gonna brag but…guys Auntie Anne has nothin’ on me. I got this pretzel thing down like…well like I flushed it down the toilet.  But I want to draw any connotation between my pretzels and the toilet apart now so lets move on!

Here is the recipe I used. It was so much easier than I’d anticipated and way fun!  Like I never really wish I had kids around me (I usually just want a baby to cuddle and love and squeeze, but I’ve never found myself craving a toddler or young elementary school-er.  However I know people who have these and they say they are pretty great so I’ll say they must know something.  The point is, this activity made me want kiddos to roll dough with.  I’ve told Jonathan before that I wish I could rent babies like books from the library and just love and squeeze them for a bit but then give them back (and he always gives me a look of concern mixed with “umm well that is currently a crime” sort of blurb) but this activity found within me a desire to rent an 8 year old.  That sounds kind of horrible to type, sorry but you know what I mean!  I’d like to borrow my own 8 year old for a few hours today but not forever quite yet.  Ok? ok.

Make these soon and smother them with delicious condiments.

Continue reading “Pretzel Day”

Normal Soup

I told you we’d get to some food here–soup to be exact.  So, nothing celebratory or exciting but it is January and I don’t know about you, but the adjectives ‘celebratory’ or ‘exciting’ aren’t the immediate afterthoughts to the word ‘January’.  This soup is a good freezable, heart-defrosting, winter hug.  It’s even vegetarian, and could be gluten-free if you substituted the pasta for quinoa or some gluten-free pasta.  It’s the ultimate ‘normal-people’ soup.  No weird ingredients, no need to go to Whole Foods!  Actually on second thought, I really can’t call this all that normal because it’s borderline hippie.  Like soup made by hippie peasants of Pittsburgh?..(anything with kale can’t really grow that far from the the rainbow)  Regardless—It’s still one of those things you can freeze half of and magically have dinner on the table when you need food and don’t feel like risking you life using your car to sled to the nearest Giant Eagle or Trader Joe’s….

Chickpea Kale Soup

1 yellow onion, finely chopped

1/4 teaspoon dried red chili flakes

4 cloves of garlic, minced

3oz of tomato paste (I used 1/2 a 6oz can) I think that’s about 3 Tablespoons? eh. just use enough to make it red without infecting it with chunks of tomatoes.

1 Tablespoon dried oregano

2 teaspoons dried basil

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

3 Tablespoons of fresh chopped rosemary (I use this because I had a bunch of fresh rosemary to use, you could totally use dried (1 Tablespoon) but you can’t really skip this ingredient because it’s a big deal in here.

2 (15oz) cans drained/rinsed chickpeas

8 cups low-sodium chicken broth

1 bunch of curly kale, stems removed and coarsely chopped

1/2 cup small pasta (I used whole wheat orzo)

Saute the onion and red pepper flakes and about 1/4 teaspoon pepper and a pinch of salt on medium-high  in your dutch oven/soup pot, whatever you’ve got there that you make soup in. Do this for about 5 min, till the onions are golden then add the garlic and saute another minute or 2.  Then stir in the tomato paste and chickpeas.  Add 4 cups broth (I use those broth cartons, they are 1 quart each so just throw in 1 of those now) the oregano, basil, rosemary and smoked paprika.  Bring to a boil and simmer for 30min.  Then take it off the heat, and use an immersion blender to blend/smash up those chickpeas.  Or just put some of the soup (about half, we aren’t making hummus soup just smashing enough chickpeas to give this soup some texture).  Transfer the blended mixture to the soup again (if you used an outside-of-pot blender) add the rest of the broth (or just a second quart carton) the kale and bring to a boil.  Then simmer forever.  Really as long as you can, at least 1 hour.  The more you cook this thing the better it gets!  If you are in a big rush you don’t have to simmer it for an hour even but it will be quite tasty if you do.  At the end of whatever your simmer-time is add the tiny pasta and cook for another 10 min.

You’re done!

**Here is what I did because I had all day to do it but I don’t expect you to have all the live-long-day**:  I boiled the kale down for about 20 min then transferred the soup to my slow-cooker and cooked it in there for 4 hours on high.  At the 3.5 hour mark I added the tiny pasta to cook in.

Is anyone else looking forward to some spring/summer happenings?  I’m not usually a summer chickie but lately I’ve been really itching to a little get-away or to go to a concert or play music or SOMETHING out of the ordinary.  Any of yinz know of some fun musical things coming through in the next couple of months?  So far I am aware of the following that might be a blast:

Kurt Vile (@ Mr. Small’s on Feb. 22)

Dr. Dog (@ Stage AE on March 16)

The Avett Brothers (@ Stage AE on May 12)

Oh well, we’ve got time to figure this out.

We’re still eating normal soup because it’s January.

And can I just show you some visual updates from Christmas-through last night when I taped a bunch of pictures to our fridge in a hurricane of emotions, then garnished it with a plush heart??
One more pic of the tasty hippie peasant soup.


Nothing like a little Domico Family Christmas Hazing for the new guy!  I love him.  He was a wonderful toilet paper snowman <3


Loving this picture of my mom holding her new cornbag of warmth and good feels!  I didn’t know how dark and cold my life (and feet) were before owning a cornbag.  Thank goodness for nurse buddies who know what you need! :)


The tree! the tree! And a screen of glow


Happiest Perfect Fluff of Love.


Coffee on the perch!!  Probably my favorite things about going to the homeland.  Early rainy coffee on the porch with my parental unit and sweet man :)


Alright sweetcakes.  Time to nap for the bebbies tonight.  Goodnight/Happy TGIF to those celebrating.  To those I’ll see tonight: Get ready.

There will be we-work-weekends-pity-brownies!

Weekday Funday

Last night Jonathan asked me what I was planning on doing today.  Despite trying to make my “schedule” sound different than every other weekday when I’m not waking up at 4:50am he still caught on that my only plan was to get out of bed before 10am and move enough to prevent a DVT.


Honestly, what I do on my off-days can get pretty varied.  A few examples include:

  1. Picking fights with mommy groups at the local coffee shop
  2. Contemplating homicide in the target makeup section towards a fellow customer whose condescending tone of voice I didn’t appreciate while asking me to move when I was already squashed against the side of the aisle.
  3. Having kahlua and ice cream for lunch
  4. Calling to schedule routine maintenance on my car and when the mechanic asks me what exactly I want done I say “Umm, like whatever you would do for a regular car check-up” As if I was scheduling an appt. with the pediatrician.  Basically I’m taking the Subaru to get it’s booster shots right?
  5. Trying new pintrest and youtube remedies for my disgusting ingrown toenails.  TMI maybe, BUT– look at this deepening of our friendship getting to know each other!  Now you know I have really painful ingrown toenails. Your turn to share.  Spill the beans!  For now I will just assume you have regular yeast infections.
  6. Cooking a TON of food.  I am so serious, like 2 main course things with a loaf of bread and probably brownies.
  7. Online shop because I’m still afraid to drive to the waterfront shops.  I actually buy stuff only about 10% of the time.  It’s all about filling the cart and then letting it go because you can’t justify buying more harem pants or peasant tops.


I am laying pengiun-belly down on my upstairs floor after attempting a yoga video by my online favorite yoga lady which really turned into a huge flop (literally and figuratively).  This was after mechanically schleping through one of those T25 workouts that felt…well just like that-mechanical and sort of useless.  Today is Sunday and for about a good 6 hours Jonathan has been carting my butt around town, watching my face pout and whimper during all the hymns at church then grouch about how I have no talents, no motivation, no desires or goals, no friends, skills….etc….whine whine whine…… all aboard the train of self-pity and insecurity.

Needless to say I’ve been a real pill lately.  I was on a medium-high for a few weeks and since Friday I’ve been treading water in the pool of anger, frustration that settled into re-visiting cranky insecurities, and some seasonal sadness.


Anyways, thank goodness for friend time (especially some QT with your fellow ENFPs!), patient husbands and sparkly work friends. I was talking with a friend the other day about some struggles with learning how to work with purpose.  It’s all very grey and I’ve been trying to focus on the reason I provide care to my patients, and how the goal of care I have is not for their appeasement.  It is to support them in their own goals for their health and the health of their child while providing education and resources.  It is to help them to reach wellness and be equipped to go forward into a very exciting and challenging chapter in their life.  This is a total can of worms to open so I’m not going to go all the way there.  But I will say that it is good to have a personal drive to do whatever you’re doing, even if it’s not about your actual job (maybe your drive is to support your family or something you love outside of your work).  During challenges it’s helpful to remember my own personal “drive”.  Which right now is to trust God’s ordinance for each day and “…To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (last half of Micah 6:8).  Also to trust in Him that He is at work in my heart, that He is ‘hemming me in’ (Psalm 139). Sometimes that means to be greatly humbled, to admit to being wrong and hurtful, to stand up for myself and others, to change my perception of something/someone, to practice gratitude, to remembering God’s own mercy towards me when I become frustrated and unloving towards others—and bringing it full circle we’re back to being humbled!   Ta da!

I saw a decorative quote on pinterest (of course) that I’ve thought of often at work when I have to re-center on why I am doing anything.


But that’s all the serious for now!   Whew, thank goodness this isn’t the past 2 novella posts right?? To be perfectly honest this was about to be a soup recipe post but then I started tumblr-ing.  You’ll totally get soup with the next one!

It’s been a while since we’ve done a Postpartum Nurse Comic Strip eh?

 Getting to work and finding a seat at the nurses station to look at the Baby Forecast and then going out to lasso a COW (Computer On Wheels).


Welcoming my new admission to postpartum:


When you haven’t even clocked in or received report yet and one of your rooms calls the desk and ends up being a 7:00am condition C.


When the glucometer reads a baby’s blood sugar at 44…


Delivering the 3rd pack of similac formula to a room when you discover they’ve been calling for it from different nurses all day.


Using the blue phone during a sort-of-emergent thing, and realizing that not only does the patient not speak English, neither does the phone interpreter.


You walk into discharge a patient and they want a breast pump before they go (and haven’t told anyone till now)


Patient is refusing to go to discharge class:


Looking for anything in the re-organized supply room:


All New Mommas: (Bless your hearts, birthin’ babies is stressful!  But yes, sometimes you just need to get all those hormones out of your eyeballs.)


The Difference Between Breastfed Babies and Bottlefed Babies:



When you present your severely swollen/pain-filled patient with a hand-crafted ice-glove and/or an oxycodone:


(the above GIF is almost too real if you’ve ever seen me at work.  The hair and the eyes match.  Probably the explanation method too.)

When you ask a more experienced nurse to come assess bleeding with you (or when a newer nurse asks you to come double-check a patient)


How I feel about my sweet coworkers:


When I’m a big whiner and everyone puts up with me:


Thinking about past coworkers


Cheers babycakes! This one’s for you!


***Also it is pretty clear that every single image here minus the one of Yours Truly, and a kahlua sundae are not owned or created by me.  They are found and credited on tumblr and pinterest***Thanks!

Bottom of Your Glass

Welcome to the Blueberry Days Bible Study!  We have tea and crumpets here in the living room or you could split this bottle of wine with me.  Just wanted to give you a fair heads-up that this post is bloated and long and probably redundant about my feels and God and love and guilt and fear and the salvation of mankind…you know, light stuff!  There is a lot of good meaty Bible talk here.  So if that is not your jam I get it but hope you do stay for some beverages with me :)

Last month Jonathan and I went up to Vermont to visit with his family and on the way back he dropped me off at my parents house in State College where I got to camp out and pretend it was 2014 again.   It was a great sip of home and conversations with long-time friends and wise friend-family.  To complete the experience I rode the Megabus from SC to Pittsburgh Wednesday night and re-lived the magic of gazing at each fellow passenger within eyesight and making up their deal in my head (this might be what some call judgmental but I prefer to call it “guessing with imagination”).  I’m pretty sure people could easily have guessed with not so much imagination towards me because not 15 min into the trip I had tears pouring down my face and became the bus fountain of emotion.

*Cue the sad/sappy iPod–>aka gasoline over the flame of my tears….as a courtesy to my fellow passengers I should’ve passed around a bag of marshmallows at this point so they could get some use out of the Emotional Bonfire Girl.

So Much Wine, Merry Christmas–Andrew Bird (at least listen to this one!  This is the title inspiration)

Million Dollar Bill–Middle Brother

I Will Sing You Songs–My Morning Jacket

Tear Down the House–The Avett Brothers

Ruby–Dave Rawlings Machine

Miss Ohio–Gillian Welch (I’m sorry but this song is definitely on almost every other music list post on this blog.)

Clean–Ryan Adams (eating this album up like poptarts in the closet, I don’t know if I really like it but I’m going on my 6th pack…so the jury’s out till I decide or just get sick, barf, and never listen to it again)

Fake Plastic Trees–Radiohead

No Surprises–Radiohead

REBECCA!  Why were you an emotional car wreck?!

Well sugar, if you’ve ever met me I’m either at the bottom of the ocean or at the top of the mountain with very little time on the mainland of stability.  Ever since hearing the term Hot Mess Express I can’t think of a better title for my autobiography.  I also recently came to terms with the fact that I am an ENFP–>not the INFP of yesteryear.  I am not cool, introverted and mysterious.  This is not actually what introverted means (as I have been reminded several times by my sweet introverted man) but it’s what I wanted to be and what pop culture paints the introvert as.  In contrast, the extrovert is painted as this logic-less party beast who imposes on the introvert.  So yeah, who wants to be that??  Buttons.  Anyways, that following Friday afternoon Jonathan came home from work to find me typing on this computer and sniffling next to an empty Jameson glass.  Good thing he missed me sobbing face down on my yoga mat just about an hour prior….whaaat is my problem…….?!?  So. Many. Feels.

Rebecca you are a Feeling Beast.

So the deal is that I went home (state college home) and for the first time in many months I was just hanging out on my lonesome, very deja vue to the 2012-2014 era when I was a wannabe hipster who worked at the coolest coffee shop ever, borderline decent fiddle-player, and frustrated nursing student/graduate.  Now I don’t live there anymore, I’m this frustrated baby wrangler nurse in Pittsburgh, fresh wifelette, and playing the violin makes me cry…. At least one thing is constant!  These past 16 months have been as close as you can get to God throwing your life in a washing machine and then giving you double-time in the dryer only to hang you up on the clothesline for some extra air and you don’t even know if you are O.K. anymore let alone if your perception of reality is actually real or not.

So. Much. Change.

–>What I mean, is that while I climbed the stairs to the roof of the Fraser Street parking garage late that Tuesday night, I could truly believe that I had just awoken from a dream where I moved to Pittsburgh, was a nurse, met a guy and married him all in under a year.  As I stood on the rooftop it felt almost exactly like every other time I’d stood there and gazed down into the Happiest Valley.  It felt so surreal to be standing in that place and tell myself that I wasn’t there anymore–that my life was somewhere else, and it wasn’t just my life anymore.

If I could just take a dramatic moment I’d say I felt very ghost-like.

Reference: I used to visit the top of the Fraser Street Parking garage and peer down into the buildings below and listen to the music drifting up from bars and street performers.  One of the first songs I heard from there was ‘Ruby’.

Tonight I am at home.  My home with my now-family.  There is pumpkin bread in the oven, dirty clothes tumbling in the washing machine, too much garbage from 2 people on the sidewalk waiting to be gone, wedding pictures, belated thank-yous strewn about the living room; more dried tears on my face.  It’s been a season of easy tears from what I’m assuming is the emotional settling after the year of constant major life-altering changes.  Much of the feeling turmoil has been brought on by feelings of loss and unexpected change—which I too often interpret as God not caring or being apathetic about my life.  Not that I don’t believe that God cares and loves for humanity as a whole and that he sent Himself to earth to restore relationship between Himself and His people, I just never really think that He puts much weight into my individual everyday life and simple struggles as an American woman who has a stable job, loving spouse and family,  roof over my head, food and numerous other blessings of which many others are praying for.  Why would my everyday unreasonable sadness matter to God?  And if He does care about it, wouldn’t He just be frustrated at my failure to appreciate that He hasn’t asked me to walk through different trials?  Does He wish He’d given the blessings to someone else who would use them better and give greater thanks without finding another reason to not trust Him and live in sadness??  I’ve had several people (including a therapist and my husband) tell me that I do not believe that God wants to give me good things and that is why I am easily anxious.  The observation surprised me at first but I knew that this was the thorn pushing living fear into my heart.  I live in the belief that God may let good things happen but actively creates the suffering in order to glorify Himself.  In writing this I imagine God might be very sad to see the child so distrusting that she cannot accept gifts He lays at her feet.

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?  or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?  If you then though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”  Matthew 7:9-11 NIV

Changes can be sometimes be your choice but also many are totally out of your control.  Sometimes change you decide on comes with unexpected events too.  When I experience change I often look for a reason to expect something difficult to happen because God surely wants to use whatever change is happening to refine me and make me lean on Him–so in my fearful heart I ask: why would He give me good things when it seems like the bad things are what He uses for our growth and to bring us to Himself?  When change is at my doorstep I cringe and anticipate being stripped bare to unknown shame and difficulty when God looks at me from afar and tells me to walk towards Him in my weak naked body, and if I fail to do so I am stuck where I am, with cold wind on bare skin. So when He brings about a happy event into my life I poke at it in disbelief and suspicion that it signals some awful thing is going to happen after I accept it–This is really sad and twisted and I truly tear up at the vision of a father trying to give his daughter a gift that she won’t even touch.

You see, the difficult thing about this is that God does indeed ask us to trust Him in trials and he does destroy that which comes between Himself and His beloved, you and I.  As in the creatures he made into His own image, creatures with souls capable of great evil and magnificent windows to the Holy.  So when I say I fear God’s refinement it is true that He does take away, he does bring us to “nakedness”.

…”Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised” excerpt of Job 1:21 NIV

God does allow us to walk through times of great suffering and blindness in the midst of life changes even when we beg Him to take it away, or give us clarity.  He does ask us to trust Him and ask Him for wisdom in those trials, not only to endure and trust but to have joy in such times and to praise His name!

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything…when tempted, no one should say, “God is tempting me.”  For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed.  Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.  Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers.  Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of first-fruits of all he created.  James 1:2-4, 13-18 NIV (bold and italic text added)

Tonight I read another chapter in the book I’ve been spottily reading for about 2 years, Ann Voskamp’s ‘One Thousand Gifts’.  Most of the book chronicles her learning joy through gratitude and how to learn joy when you can’t see anything beyond bitterness, fear and depression.  It’s something I should actually just read on repeat.

Sometimes I don’t want joy.  In my blindness I cling to depression and doubt as substitutes because I think that they hold less disappointment; less opportunity to feel embarrassment and shame. I can recall times when I’d thought I’d placed my hope in God but was left in disappointment.  However, this was because the hope wasn’t in Christ alone, it was in the things I wanted him to do for me rather than who He is.  I have used times when I’ve been given something I strongly desired and had it taken away as proof of God’s apathy or conditional approval towards me.  When I was allowed to get so close to whatever thing I wanted and suddenly it was torn away, I recoiled from God and glared at Him from my cave.  So, if I live expecting God’s way of refining me is to immerse me into suffering through tearing hopes/desires out of my hands while pouring shame and abandonment over my nakedness, then I could only “safely” live in fear of what is to befall me next.  To constantly be waiting for God to frown on my heart, to await the humiliation of exposure and subsequent withdraw of blessings.  But as the verse above mentions, it is not God who changes.  He is constant and His love for us is unchanging based on our doing, and it is not He who brings temptation to rely on fear as protection from the unknown.

In her book, Voskamp covers this way of thinking and brings to light that it is subconsciously deciding that the powers of Hell are greater and offer more life than those of Heaven.  The choice to shut out joy becomes a habit to protect myself from dashed hope.  Hope can only be as strong as that which it rests on, and if that is on a person, event, government, one’s own ability and self esteem… then it can’t be strong enough to withstand the weight of God’s glory being bled through your life.  If you are familiar with the story of God revealing himself to Moses you may recall the nature of that taste of glory being so powerful that God had to shield Moses from His passing by (Exodus 33:12-23).  Moses stood in a tight dark place, yet was as physically close to God as could be withstood by a human.  Voskamp speculates that it may be in those dark places when we are given the opportunity to experience God’s closeness and protection unlike any other time.  That perhaps the darkness is his hand covering us, protecting us from what we cannot yet understand.

I’ve always had a hard time understanding God calling us to joy in trial–it’s so hard!  I can’t wrap my brain around how to feel joyful in the midst of depression and fear.  It can feel impossible, or like one more thing on the spiritual ‘to-do’ list.  “Trust God, endure struggle, pray for wisdom…oh yeah and have joy in all of this!”  I want to throw up my hands and say this is HARD!  Does God ask the impossible? Does He intend our entire earthly existence to be a constant trial and refinement through struggle but for us to be happy all time time that He is doing it? In the midst of fear and trying to trust the Lord, what is does it mean to have joy? My first strike is that I said the word ‘happy’.  Let’s get this oldie-but-goodie on the table and remember that happiness is not joy.  Joy is not a fleeting feeling (!) as I am learning.  It is the marriage of Peace and Hope.  This is why it is not only possible to have joy in struggle, but necessary.  Hope in the solid ground of God’s sovereignty over all things, that He does have the power to change all things and that what He does choose to do or not do is good because He is good and all good things come from Him.  This is hard to accept because “good” must then mean it is ‘God-glorifying’.  “Good” doesn’t necessarily mean it works out to make us more comfortable.

“Safe?” Said Mr. Beaver.  “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good.  He’s the King, I tell you.” (‘The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe’ by C.S. Lewis)

God is glorified in how we trust him in all circumstances to bring us to himself, to make us holy as he is holy….sanctification.  (There is much more to this subject that I am not entirely educated enough to explain, but one tidbit I want to remind us of is that our salvation and sanctification is not something dependent on how much we do/the strength of our trust to make ourselves holy and Christ-like–that is impossible in our human sin-weakened bodies.  Christ is the bridge to our being made holy because we have gained his holiness through the cross where he took our sin and deserved abandonment from God.  Therefore we cannot sanctify ourselves, God made the way for us to be with him again and in response to this great act of mercy and grace (receiving an undeserved gift) we are called to love God and trust Him…lean not on our own understanding in all things…(Proverbs 3:5-6).

Peace is our soul recognizing the presence of God in all times.  Peace is the rest and wonder laid on our souls through glimpses of the Holy everyday.  Peace feeds our hope through assurance of God’s caring and providing for us throughout all things, which enables us to hope in Christ without fear of what God will do.  The ways of God do not make sense to the minds of man, the idea that a holy God would reach into the grime of the world to rescue his adulterous love and die to make her clean and bring her to Himself is foreign to our hard hearts.  God actually gives us a “Day In My Life” story in the book of Hosea where he tells Hosea to go and marry a prostitute and not only that but to go and buy her back when she gets into even more trouble.  Constant pursuit!  That is God’s way with us.  It is strange and amazing.

He is good and cares for us even in small things as well as big ( Matthew 6:25-34). So to have joy we must have glimpses of God’s presence in our day-to-day.  How does this happen?  When we practice looking for Him, we will find Him when we focus on who we are looking for.  In other words, thanks rather than despair.

…..Whatever my God Ordains Is Right…. (‘Sweet Comfort’ by Sandra McCracken)

In Chapter 7 of One Thousand Gifts, Voskamp describes that the presence of God is sensed through your focus on what is there rather than what isn’t there, to open our eyes to the graces and gifts He gives in the moment rather than frustration and resentment about our circumstances.  And that is the daily practice of choosing life over death–or I love how she puts it, the “joy-wrestle”.

“Hard.  Yes.  So hard.”…I am trying , really trying: Practice.  The discipline of thanks only comes with practice.”…I want to give up too.  But give up the joy-wrestle…and I die.  “The practice of giving thanks…eucharisteo…this is the way we practice the presence of God, stay present to His presence, and it is always a practice of the eyes.  We don’t have to change what we see.  Only the way we see.” (p. 135)

One of the other pieces of work she references in her book is this quote from Robert A. Emmons and Michael E. McCullough’s piece ‘The Psychology of Gratitude’):

“People generally do not make efforts to actively infuse their daily experiences with greater emotional quality,” posits scientific researcher and professor Rollin McCraty.  “Although most people definitively claim that they love, care, appreciate it might shock many to realize the large degree to which these feelings are merely assumed or acknowledged cognitively in their feeling world.  In the absence of conscious efforts to engage, build, and sustain positive perceptions and emotions, we all to automatically fall prey to feelings such as irritation, anxiety, worry, frustration, self-doubt and blame” (Rollin McCraty, “The Grateful Heart,” The Psychology of Gratitude, ed. Robert A. Emmons (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 241.)

If we understand that peace is only found in our personal communion with God and our hope is in His goodness then our joy is not a feeling.  Our joy is the daily intentional seeking God in that moment (not to get too ahead of our seasons but we are coming up on the Thanksgiving season appropriately followed by Christmas….aka the time we remember and give thanks for Immanuel… “God with us”!! Matthew 1:23) through thanks for his care for us in ways we don’t see at first glance.  Joy is to go to God and ask for blessing, the blessing our soul craves.  The presence of God with us, which only He can give.  To go to God and knowing that only He can bless us and fill us.  We will, like Jacob, ask God to bless us–in the way He delights to do, with His presence in our hearts.  It is this joy that cannot be taken by the world because it is not of the world.

Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’?  I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.  You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.  A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time as come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.  So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.  In that day you will no longer ask me anything.  I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever yo ask in my name.  Until now you have not asked for anything in my name.  Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete….I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:19-24, 33

So it is true that God does indeed bring us good things, and He wants to!  This is still shocking to me and I am learning to accept that each day without fear.  Here’s a story: In my mopey pre-saturday-nightshift sulking last weekend I laid in bed unable to sleep and jokingly asked Jonathan to pray I got called off work (honestly thinking there is no way in any world that I would get called off on a weekend).  I laid there and thought about writing this post and how I was trying to see the blessing of the moment rather than the frustration of what I don’t have, which led to more sulking then feeling shameful and guilty but then I started thinking about exactly what I just wrote and how God was going to take care of me that night no matter what I was going to walk into.  And that my going into work that coming night meant that God ordained me to be there then and care for the patients I would meet and to spend time with my wonderful co-workers.  This train of thought actually did bring me to a more peaceful place and though I didn’t sleep, I did know that God was at work and therefore I could have joy in this despite my childish whining.

Wouldn’t you know I got a golden call-off phone call at 5pm.  I actually did feel a little amazed and tremble-y.  It felt like God was saying “I told you I could do anything and I do care about you in every way no matter how you are behaving or what you feel. I love you and delight in giving you good things, right now I’m giving you a night of rest to enjoy with Jonathan.”  It was humbling actually, just like the small child feeling ashamed for sulking and then being given an undeserved treat.  Anyways, the point here is that if you pray and ask God to get you called-off for the night He might do it!  (that is absolutely not the point…there is nothing you do that gets you called off work.  It is purely a gift from God that you can enjoy and not feel guilty about!  Jonathan had to tell me this when my guilt sunk in around 10pm that I wasn’t using my night off properly.  I’m crazy.  Please help.)—that God does delight to give us blessings and he does this even when we feel that our life is upside-down and/or dark.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.  The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.  I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me.  I have set the Lord always before me.  Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.  Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the grave, nor will you let your Holy One see decay.  You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at you right hand.” Psalms 16:5-11 (italics added)

 IMG_20150821_202351 IMG_20150926_102026 IMG_20151105_164000 20140517_143312

The Blues Are Still Blue

The other day one of my co-workers came back from a vacation and while being caught up on all the hospital happenings at the nurses station turned to me and exclaimed “didn’t you run off and get married?!”

Holy cow she’s right.

So on this blog hiatus I moved (again–that’s 4 times in one year now) and got hitched.  It’s a pretty big deal.  It’s one of those things that there would be so much to spill that the thought of going all the way back to last time we caught up overwhelms my finger brains and I’m about to shut this computer.  So lets start with today.  Today I do not work–needless to say the day has barely begun and it’s already a success.  I woke up to Jonathan’s goodbye kiss before he left for work and with best intentions to wake up then I relapsed into slumber till noon.  Rolled out of bed and did my favorite–wrangled the french press into coffee making and sat in the kitchen under the sun leak.  This morning I woke up to my body crumpled and tired in quite a few ways–physically because I did some wack attack thing and scheduled myself to work 3 nights in a row with a 36hr turn around to 2 days in a row. WHEW.


So here we are, just kicking it around my kitchen.  Listening to Kanye over coffee…damn, here we go again…

Lets just start with the playlist (this is my back-n-forth playlist to take me to and from work nowadays):

Everything I Am–Kanye West

The Distance–Cake

California Chainshaw–The Steeldrivers

Donald Trump–Mac Miller

To Be Young (Is to Be Sad)–Ryan Adams

Don’t Fuck With My Money–Penguin Prison **I can’t help but dig this groover.*

Ten Cent Pistol–The Black Keys “the laws of man do not apply when blood gets in a woman’s eye” Take. Me. To. Work.

I so want to be the blogger that can tell you every magical detail of her wedding day but to be totally honest sweetness, I cannot remember 85% of it.  It’s slowly coming to me like a dream—not to be sappy and all but it’s true that it went be SO fast!  I remember waking up, sitting on the porch of my parents house and drinking coffee while watching it rain.  Then I remember talking about vaginas with the lady doing my makeup and sweet friend/photographer/bride-babysitter/OB-nurse-buddy.  I remember waiting and praying alone in the bedroom the bridesmaids were stored in waiting to be fetched for the ceremony.   Then I remember a big blur.  I’ll fill ya in as it comes to me.  Definitely the best day of my life.

11053065_2992204972267_1081197462783906288_nLet’s scoot over to something that I’ve been trying to spit on paper for a while.  I have been super blog absent this year for a ton of reasons but over the past few months I have been silent because every time I started to write it would taste sour.  All I could think about was my job.  It overshadowed every other piece of my life—including planning a wedding and preparing for marriage.  I’ve cried a lot about that actually because it felt like I didn’t really experience an exciting period of expectation and joyful planning with family/friends.  Most of the engagement was spent surviving—mentally, physically, spiritually.  The week of my wedding snuck up on me and happened in a beautiful flash but I felt like I just tumbled into the scene, hoping things were going to happen because I sure as heck didn’t know what was going on or if anything would be ready etc… Luckily I have amazing family, friends, and people I didn’t even know really at all but suddenly became my floral fairy godmother (thank you my mom’s wonderful work buddy who came to our house 2 nights before the wedding and led us in unpacking flowers fresh from South American Sam’s Club and creating gorgeous bouquets.  You are fan-flipping-tastic).  But aside from the week of the wedding the majority of my memory is anxiety, anger and frustration in my professional life.  Much of that I’m told is due to being the first year of nursing, but I doubt it’s the full reason.  Since starting my first nursing job in postpartum I have seen several changes in myself—many I do not like.  I’d like to tell you about them because I’m just coming to terms with them myself and to terms with the fact that my actual job isn’t entirely the culprit of my own personal response.

I began chipping away during the winter, progressively bobbing up and down in emotional state regarding work till taking a nosedive in spring which spiraled into regular sobbing and depressive episodes where all I could feel was inadequacy, embarrassment, anger, and suffocation.  So here’s what I saw/see: Nursing is notoriously a ‘saintly’ profession.  When people ask what I do I say that I’m a nurse.  They usually respond with a well-meant compliment to the profession and how nice it must be to work 3 days a week, ask if I rotate shifts (yes I do, days and nights happen in the same week) and then the inquiry of what kind of nursing I do.  This is where I look down and say I’m a postpartum nurse.

I don’t do CPR every other day (haven’t actually done that at all yet) I haven’t successfully placed an IV (we usually take them out rather than place them on this unit, and when someone needs an IV we try but are often swamped and need to call our amazing IV team for help) most of my patients are “walkie-talkies” (they are awake, alert and oriented to what is going on—not to be taken for granted in the medical world for sure).  I don’t really work with what you’d imagine the hospital population being (ill).  We do have sick moms and babies but generally it’s an exacerbation of health issues that existed prior to pregnancy. So, depending on who I am saying this too I either get something about how nice it is to not have to do anything but hold babies all day and/or “lucky you! Happiest place in the hospital!”

I’ve been meaning to chat about my professional life with yinz now for a while but every time I would start a post I would become angry and spiteful in my words–so with caution I’m gonna try this because I miss you so much and want to talk again!  So I am a nurse, I take care of new mommas and babies.  No I don’t deliver babies.  No I’m not a NICU nurse.  I help you walk around after surgery, I tell you to not be scared of the blood on the floor and I flush the toilet with all that blood in it before you turn around.  I wrangle your IV pump around the room, re-arrange your room, take your trays out because we don’t have a useful sign indicating that trays only get fetched if they are outside of the room.  I talk to you either through google translator or a magic blue phone because I was a horrible spanish student and wish I’d just studied useless french in middle school and had 4th period crepe parties like I wanted.  I nestle you in pillows and tell you when we are out of them.  I manhandle that chair and a few blankets into a “bed” for your man (and politely sympathize to his disappointment that the hospital doesn’t provide him a “real bed”)  I also check on you in the middle of the night to see you curled in the chair “bed” while he is sprawled on the hospital bed.  I get self-righteous calls from both of you in the middle of transferring another patient to the NICU complaining about your 3 minute late PRN motrin for 1/10 pain (I do not have time to explain nursing prioritizing over a phone call so I just take your glare when I scurry up to your room after getting lost in the hospital maze).  I find you wandering the hallway with your newborn in arms because you’re afraid to be in your room when “he gets like that”, to which I nest you in the lounge then go cool my jets enough to walk into your dark room, flip the lights on and politely inquire what his issue is while reminding him that it is your room.


I love handing your your freshly bathed and swaddled newborn.  Speaking of, I strongly believe in the power of an iron swaddle to quell any unruly nugget into stunned silence (I actually feel like I’m performing a magic trick when I quickly silence Tiny Tim in front of his exhausted parents by making him a little human burrito).  I try and organize nap time for you but I cannot control every human who walks into your room–especially your relatives.  I am not afraid to be the “bad guy” and ask them to leave if you are about to fall apart in exhaustion.  Walking into dad changing a diaper, even with nervous hands, makes my heart jump with a high-five, you go Glen Coco!  Hearing your baby swallow with perfect little “fish lips” on your boob makes me want to twirl with delight.  I cannot be there for every single feeding because a lot of moms want me to cheer for their babies too.  I like helping you bottle feed your baby–it’s fun and also totally good—haters gonna hate #breastaintalwaysbest. I want you to know that good parenting is more about the example you set for them in your own decisions, personal integrity, and loving discipline you guide and care for them with over the next 18+ years rather than what kind of nipple you use to feed them this year.  I do believe you when you say what your pain is and am happy to make you feel better but oxycodone can’t take it all away.  I make sure you know to treat your baby like you’d treat your drunk friend when they puke–turn them on their side and make sure they don’t turn blue.  Sometimes I entertain the idea of using the breast pump myself to see if I’m milk-able or at least if I could create some real A-cup cleavage… even though I know that is fruity.  I often wonder if you get ingrown hairs down there when you shave or if you can wax with a yankee candle.   My eyes get hot and sad when I find you crying in exhaustion in the middle of the night because you feel guilty and nervous to let your baby leave the room, your chart saying G2P1 is a dry way to say you were here last year and left without a baby.  I get really excited (and tired) when we start the day with you too dizzy to walk, throwing up, with a bleeding incision and end the day with you smiling, eating, walking, and peeing.  Sometimes I get so mad that I do see white.  Sometimes I have to pray for my mental “daily bread” in the supply room before facing another 12 hours of constant human angst.  I feel guilty horrible when I know I have failed to do something I ought to have remembered for you or your baby and my husband listens to me say I want to shut my hands in the oven before picking me up like a baby and reminding me that I am also human.  I look at babies sleeping in the nursery and think about how the withdrawal baby going home to a drug house will never remember sleeping next to their nursery neighbor going home to a celebrity household.  When I look at a full nursery one of my first thoughts is “just a bunch of (cute) sinners crying for the things they will cry for the rest of their life in different ways”–love, affection, safety, nourishment, pain relief.  It’s the same thing their mothers are crying for from their life–from the father, from their family, from them.  And it’s the same thing the nurses are crying for from our own situations..  Babies are raw humans!

So that’s a mind-barfing way to say what kind of nursing I do.  And that I’m dealing with strange self-administered guilt about how I’m not a “real nurse” on med surg, ICU, ER, TCU, NICU. LDR, ABCDEFG…but that’s my failure to remember what nursing is.  I do get a little sad when I get a patient from labor&delivery who hugs their LDR nurse in thanks for all the amazing things they did (because they do! Cripes they do.) but know in my mind trenches that they won’t hug their postpartum nurse because they will spend more time with us and they will experience waves of frustration, stressors, and pain in many ways that we cannot fix or that take a lot of time and people coordinating to fix.  We have to help them rehabilitate to life now and that can be tedious, silly, confusing, tiring, and hard.  We do not give epidurals for life.  That is my failure to remember that nursing isn’t about thanks–that is a pride issue—nursing is about caring for people where they are to the best of your ability where you are.  And that patient satisfaction shouldn’t mean customer satisfaction, just because a patient is happy doesn’t mean that the right needs were met in the right order.  I can’t say I love my career or that I was just “meant to be a nurse”.  In some ways I wish I had chosen to alter my career path, in fact a I have thought about that a lot lately.  The glorified image of nursing isn’t the career, it’s an image of a saint person.  Being a nurse don’t make you no saint O.K.? If anything it makes me realize that I’m a real creature of fear and selfishness.  But learning to understand that humbly and not self-destructively is good, and right now I think God is working on my eyesight.  I may not be totally sure of my professional situation but it is exactly where I am right now and I have more to learn from it.


I do think that God makes all things new and allows things to pass that he will ultimately use to glorify himself and that includes our work lives as well as home lives.  I do think that the work I do now is important and very much so a molding experience for me and I have learned a lot from it already and have a long ways to go.  I also think that it is important for us to  remember that we are not our work and that regardless of where I work or what I do I should be going about it with integrity and the will to do something well and to leave people better for it.

How are ya doing buttercup?  Gosh I missed you.  I had a lot more written after this but I deleted it all because we will talk again about this and that and other things and I will tell you more about the wedding, how I still feel like a doughnut married or not, how I miss playing violin something terrible, how I miss cornfields and trees but love the Pittsburgh skyline and my happy kitchen filled with two people cooking up a beautiful messy relationship.  Lets have a treat sometime eh? By that I mean a well-rounded meal of cookies, wine and laughs.  Till next time sunshine!


The Blues Are Still Blue–Belle And Sebastian

The Best Story

So Hey. Hai.  Bon-Joyr (said with obnoxious twang).

Happy Valentines Day you doughnut!  Quit yer fussin’ about it and eat these:

IMG_20150214_102404Pink Dreamz.

Here are a few things for you to just know, you are my valentine and cannot do anything about it–I LOVE that.  Sarcastic hater to V-Day fanatic I want to wrap you in a cloud of ground up candy hearts.

This human also cannot escape being my Valentine…

because you know I’m all ’bout that bass

*Dear Jonathan: if you are reading this and your eyebrows raise a little bit I have only had cookies and coffee for breakfast today.  That might clear things up.*

And to the rest of ya’ll: I know this is getting annoying but please let me do it…please please please okthanks.

OMG. BECKY.  Look. at. that. RING.


Right now my crusty self is sitting in my room drinking coffee bean blood, trying to recollect what happened the past several weeks with days and nights (I can’t tell the difference anyways).  Guess some things never change…?(!) KIDDING.  Actually, if you know me you know that it’s an event if I DO remember what I did 12-24 hours ago.  What I’m experiencing now is essentially a work-hangover. With a lot of baby.

So barf. (yeah, a lot of it. All night.)

Before we get cozy you know I like me some life-visuals.

Most of my more-experienced co-workers lives with me in it:

tumblr_inline_n3bgmeUVVU1ql3o4g tumblr_inline_n3bgmywLPF1ql3o4gWhen I’m your nurse:


Explaining anything ever.


It is still so dang odd to be on the other side of student-hood.  When I try talking with pods of nursing students on the floor it usually ends up in a confirmation that I’m old and weird just trying to kick it with the young folks.  But sometimes they laugh and if I remember correctly, laughing is better than crying in nursing school!  In fact the other day some nurslings asked me what my ‘story’ was/nursing advice and I basically became a sage of wisdom.

Not.  This is more accurate:



Don’t worry, I still told them there were fairies and rainbows!  Dressed like babies.

Being alone in my apartment, hearing anything:


Coming home after work:tumblr_n30p3oJ1SX1tpg4boo1_250


‘Ohio-filous remix’–Damien Jurado

On that note, I’m going to finish encapsulating myself in this blanket here, and talk at you! Because I’ve got some stuff to say (surprise of the century…) How about you pull up a chair and endure join me so that I don’t feel like a total Weis markets doughnut? And because you didn’t ask and you certainly don’t want to know—a large doughnut is roughly the size of a fully dilated cervix. I love sprinkle- crusted doughnuts and I’m pretty proud of the fact that I have a cervix. I regret using the word “crusted” in the same sentence as “cervix” now. Holy Cow. DOMICO. You had to stare at the line while you jumped over it didn’t ya? Ew. stop now.

But really, doughnuts are a favorite, and when you get here we’re going to make some.

Welp, so how are you? Probably not trying to convince yourself that you don’t really spend your not-working time watching HBO. Classy piece of work you are. Also, I bet you can talk real good grammar.

And for all that “stuff I have to say”?


In 5ish months.

“REBECCA.  What in all that is sane are you doing.(?!)”

That is a very feasible sentence coming out of your tooth cave right now.  Here is why, the last time we really had a good sit-down here this was not on the horizon at all and much of this decision process occurred over blog hiatus–much due to being strapped into the minivan of the adult workforce like a defeated 8 year old being driven to violin group lessons on a Friday night instead of a sleepover.  That is the closest metaphorical feeling that describes how I feel about going to work.  However, I like the other kids at my grown-up ‘group lessons’ and we can not be at sleepovers together.

Sometimes, to pep myself up before night shifts I pretend I’m just going to a sleepover. With babies. And no sleep. And then I listen to Gold Digger.

AND it’s one of those days where I’m gonna throw my 2 cents at you. One of my favorite bloggers, Elizabeth of Delightfully Tacky provided a prompt (a while ago) for this post with a very popular topic:

“write your own post on your own blog, sharing your experience with how the media has affected your body image, how you’re fighting to change the harmful messages, or how you’re changing the future for your children?…How can we fight the harmful messages that are literally killing girls and women? Are you still fighting for your own life? To love your own body? To believe you are beautiful just the way you are? You aren’t alone.”–Elizabeth, ‘Delightfully Tacky’

After reading this prompt my snob-town inner troll was all “oh. my. gosh. look at this super original problem of media and self-image! Never heard of this before.” –Rebecca A. Domico, Professional Sarcastic Jerk

Well what is that all about Domico? Park it right here, before you step on my toes and tell me how you’re going to save your daughter’s self-esteem by withholding all Disney princess movies and Cosmo, let me state my case. To get a baseline, what are the harmful messages? Who exactly is sending them?

A harmful message is harmful because it contains a threat to something basic we want and/or crave in order to live as well as we hope. It must threaten a deep-seated desire for a good thing, such as love, safety, acceptance, intimacy, significance. Who’s sending them? We are.

The world, and members of it, work on a conditional system, like a payment system, there is always expectation after action. Payment comes in different forms, there can be a down payment (actions done with expectation of a beneficial future outcome) or just some ‘repayment’ in response to a past deed.

Perhaps this is deviating from the actual question but I’m not so sure media is the problem. Plus, media doesn’t just mean the magazine/TV ads. Media itself is in a unique position nowadays, because virtually all people can use it to send their message (instagram…facebook…insta-face? etc. you know what I’m talking here). We “sell” personal messages through media too. That perfectly posed selfie?? “Oh hi, I woke up this way…I’m so deep and introspective because I won’t look the camera in the lens…totally natural photo here I had no idea my hand was taking of myself just smiling off into the space of a thousand “likes” that I really don’t need but I really do because I wouldn’t be posting this super pretty picture of myself if I didn’t want a shot of verbal affirmation.” ***hey now hey, guys. I basically just recounted an actual brain conversation from my own head, not trying to poke you! My phone is a graveyard of my ‘good hair days’. Help to all who discover.

People implementing media to influence us know what motivates us—think about what this is: to be enjoyed, to know we are significant, loved/cherished, approved. Note, that people communicate and receive these things in different modes or “languages”. I’m going to save my spiel on ‘love languages’ for another day when I can afford you a stronger beverage. Back to the topic, here’s my 2 cents–>The media is simply a venue to play on these designer desires (say that 5x fast). The media is simply the vehicle being used to enforce the idea that we can have these desires fulfilled if we can procure a particular “payment” for them. The ideas that are portrayed via the media are very often using these desires as leverage for what they are selling (this isn’t necessarily them actually selling you something, you are always being marketed to, being sold an actual item, a school of thought, a belief etc..). They portray a person having something you want and you instinctively led to develop a theory as to why they have “it” and you seemingly do not have “it” (or have as much of “it” as you want, or in the form you want). Why do we watch films/shows, listen to music? Because we identify with it, the character, the emotions, the content of portrayed experience. If we want what that character has, we naturally do come up with rationales as to why they have it and we do not. Which in turn leads to our developing a plan of action ending in our acquisition of that desired blessing.

As far as how this relates to body image, well, I guess our body is one of the dysfunctional methods of “payment” we’re selling in exchange for significance/to be loved—or as I like to think of it, to know one is enjoyed and valued to the fullest extent. I’m not saying bodies aren’t enjoyable or meant to be enjoyed in the original context, but that bodies are yet another amazing creation we have misplaced, mistreated, disrespected and abused in frantic grasping for the fullness our souls truly crave.


The “fullness”?  It IS Valentines Day guys so you know we’re taking a dip in this pool too.  The fullness is to know one is loved and to know how to love well.  This includes a cross-over of someone’s priority from themselves to another person. This is difficult. This isn’t natural for us. Some might even argue it’s biologically counter-intuitive. If you’ve been a victim of this blog or my frank verbal opinion on this topic in the past here’s a review: Every human being serves something. Generally, themselves. Regardless of good intentions or deliberately malicious ones. I serve myself. You serve yourself. I will make the world work for me. To attain the feelings I want.  The practice of love requires you to see yourself “caught in action”.  Caught in the act of who you’re really serving (which is more often ourselves).  I don’t know about you, but “loving well” has been on the brain lately.  And for someone who grew up in a family who demonstrated love in so many ways I am bewildered at how shallow my practice has been thus far.

“..if you will love, I will love.  I will redeem you, if you will redeem me?  Is this our purpose, you and I together to pacify each other, to lead each other toward the lie that we are good, that we are noble, that we need not redemption, save the one that you and I invented of our own clay?”–Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller p. 148

This is a slice of several paragraphs of gold within this book (the whole thing is a major favorite) where the author shares a plat that he wrote in college, this part between the main character and his wife during a conflict.  Isn’t this so much the attitude of our loves today?  If you will __ then I will too.  But if you don’t ___ why should I?  That is our trade mentality, our buy-sell culture.  That is not love.  It is painful to realize how we fail to love those around us because of their ways and failings yet do not see how we ourselves are equally unlovable.  Unlovable, selfish, creatures with our eyes closed to truth.  The truth that we make excuses for not loving each other well which are nothing compared to what God could implement as fully just reason to shut us from his presence  forever.  Yet the only pure loveable being of the universe is the one we have such great difficulty loving, and who is the only one to love us in the purest form that no human does for another.  The best love on earth is a gift from God to his people, he designed us to be in relationship and love in many of the ways he relates and loves us.  Parent-Child, Friend, Friend, Family, Husband to wife.  All unique loves that can be lived either with our invention of the buy-sell “love” which is entirely dependent on self-action and is driven by self-satisfaction–or styled after original love.  Sacrificial dying to oneself to uphold the other love.  This is so so hard, and it’s this kind of love I am growing to realize I know so little of how to do well.

A classic Bible passage probably comes to mind when you think of love (“love is patient, love is kind etc….) certainly good and all but may I share a personally favored passage regarding love?  Please read the whole thing.  It’s Isaiah 43.  I won’t type to whole thing here but please read it and hear what God is saying there.  Vs. 23-28 clearly lays out the unworthiness of Israel (that’s us) of God’s favor, mercy, certainly not his love. However, earlier in the passage God clearly states who Israel is and how he will act towards her regardless of how she behaves towards him.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine…you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you,  I will give men in exchange for you, and people in exchange for your life…Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing!…I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland, to give drink to my people, my chosen, the people I formed for myself and they may proclaim my praise.”  Isaiah 43:1,4,18-20

The perfection of relationship and love that we so want and try to glean from each other does not work outside of divine intervention. It is not our natural inclination to love well beyond ourselves and we are left in a loveless desert because all we do is soak up drops of water around us in fear that it might run out someday and we must store up enough for ourselves.  True love is not fear of being unloved and therefore chasing and gathering up affection to pacify that fear.  If we are to love well and know true love, the closest we are able to become on earth is to allow God to mold us into creatures that can love well based on his original love design to sacrifice one’s own ego, control, fears and wants in favor of holding up another in effort to help them along their own journey with God.  Because love isn’t ultimately about human-to-human relations (thankfully, because they are broken and only mended through forgiveness and grace–also from God) it is about the pure unbroken tie between God and mankind, it is God making “a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland”.  And it’s His story.

982eed8174774da75b8e682b87acd089“From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”–Psalm 61:2

Isn’t it marvelous that not only can we not solely rely on each other to nurture relationships, but we can and must rely on God to show us how to build fruitful and rich relationships that really do became pools of grace in this world?

“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12

2015-02-14 14.13.27

Working Titles–Damien Jurado

Museum of Flight

If I recall correctly, the last time we met up here the sun was shining over a sleepy late summer day.  We’ve had hiatuses before but I don’t think there has been a more eventful hiatus than this one.

The Raven’s Sun–Catherine MacLellan

There is no way to really give you the full painting of the past several months but let me share a few snapshots with you, I did end up getting a full-time nursing job at Magee-Women’s Hospital on their postpartum unit (I get to re-orient the mommas and nuggets after delivery.  Basically, I’m an apprentice breastfeeding wizard).  This happened after I signed myself onto a lease for an apartment…this is something I would never advice anyone doing and I am thanking my lucky stars I was saved from my own upside-down decision process there (you really shouldn’t sign any legal document binding you to pay $$ for a year to live in a place where you have no certainty of employment yet.  FYI)  But I did.  Something I didn’t really realize the riskiness of till after I had the job and then it hit me with a thousand ice cubes of post-realization thankfulness at being saved from some potential disaster.  WELL THEN, lesson learned and somehow I rolled out on the other side ok!  Thank the sweet goodness.  Since then I’ve nested into this apartment and grown some real OB nurse-backbone.  Really only in the past couple of weeks have I started feeling a little more capable in my nurse shoes which is a good feeling.  Not that I ever really think I know what to do but I do think I’m starting to be able to walk into work without total dread of what may happen.   Sometimes I walk in, get my assignment and just shrug my shoulders in an “it ain’t what it is but it do” attitude (and on some days I just stare at my paper and a train wreck flashes before my eyeballs because I already know how that next 12 hours is going to go, and it does go that way but it still comes to an end after those 12 hours.  Those days are just a 12 hour trip on the Hot Mess Express, usually with a side stop for a cup of tears in the supply closet).

The General Flow Now:


Me *trying to* make friends at the nurses station:

Charting the same stuff for the millionth time that shift:

The baby security band alarm goes off and now someone has to locate a nugget:

Changing the diaper of your freshly circumcised patient to find a minor penile hemorrhage:


(Finally!) seeing your super rude patient and their wack-attack mother walk off the floor after pulling teeth to get them discharged and as soon as they are out of the system they want a narcotic for the road:


Here’s something weirdfun, my pre-work musical cravings: Kanye, Mac Miller, and Cake.

Gold Digger/Gorgeous/Everything I Am–Kanye


Paper Planes–M.I.A.

Electric Feel–MGMT

No Sleep–Wiz Khalifa

The Distance–Cake

Devil’s Got My Woman–Andrew Combs

My realization last week:

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After a good shift with adorable mommas and nuggets:


After a train wreck shift knowing I have to return in less than 12 hours:


After every single shift:



SO there’s the nursey update ;)  Nurse Lyfe continues to entertain and grow me!


There’s something else.



Museum of Flight–Damien Jurado



Bet ya didn’t see that one coming! Neither did I.  

More on this later ;)

–Love, Rebecca