Release

I am a nurse. I worked all night and awoke after three hours of restless sleep. My body is confused. I'm nauseous, and I wish I could make myself rest. I flip-flop days and nights, and live somewhere in-between, with dark-circled eyes and a wandering mind. But I cling to this...

Rest is anywhere because He is everywhere. 

 And right now, this looks like rest. Releasing the thoughts from my mind. Breathing out the burning questions and the deep aches of my heart. My mind wanders to the little people whose brave hearts leave forever-prints on my aching heart. How can you care so deeply, fight back hard in the battle of healing - and somehow, leave it behind you, as you stumble out the hospital doors, twelve or more hours later? 

The number one piece of advice I received prior to becoming a nurse, was this: LET GO of it all at the end of the day. Separate work from personal life, and outside of those twelve hours, let your mind step away from it all. And somehow, to me, that advice felt like I had to forget. That I couldn't possibly live my life, outside of the hospital, unless I completely shut out the thoughts of my patients and their families. However, I think that there's a difference between "forgetting" and "releasing." I care deeply - that's why they are always on my mind and heart.  Despite what all of society tells me, though, I am not the healer or sustainer of life.

In the healthcare profession, I am told that it's my duty to help to keep people alive. And so I feel personally responsible. Did I advocate well enough? Am I helping to create an environment where these sweet babies can both survive and thrive? Do they know they are loved? Will there be healing? What a heavy weight to carry. And I'm constantly learning that I'm not called to strap it all on my back and hike the mountain. The only true Healer, picks me up, heavy backpack and all, and says: "Let me carry the weighty things. Let me carry you."

And I think I'll never stop learning about grace - how to receive it - how to accept it - how to extend it - how to live in it. How to be okay with all the things that don't feel okay. How to recognize that I'm not in control. And that His grace covers it all. 

So here I am - not trying to forget, but learning to release. Letting my mind wander to my patients and their families, even when I'm not at the hospital - yet, instead of ruminating on what I should have done differently, or how I should have cared for them better - turning my focus on the One who is healing all things. Releasing this heavy weight of life into the hands of the One who is in control. He is the advocate. He is the Giver of life. He sustains. He heals. He makes new. Wow, what freedom for my mind to live in, and for my heart to feel. And so I find a mind of gratitude instead of worry - thanking my Great God for the way that He carries me and my burdens up the mountain, but that He moves the mountain and throws it into the depths of the sea. 

He has called me to this place - to be the hands and feet of His healing work. And when I don't allow myself to rest - even when it looks differently than I expect - I struggle to walk this path. I feel the weighty things, and they're hard, so I lock them up tight. Thinking that numbness toward the broken places is the answer. And when this becomes a habit, my reflex is resentment. It comes out in the way that I treat people - I'm short-tempered, insecure, and anxious. I put weight on the things that don't matter and I become easily frustrated when things aren't simple. I grasp for control, and I fall, when I can't seem to find it. I crawl back inside of my tight pseudo-space of safety, and I fail to love or be loved. I don't find true rest, because I'm not releasing my heart and mind into His care. And so, I'm restless.

When life feels so incredibly fragile, and I'm tempted to recluse into this place - when it feels like all things are out of my control, and I don't have a clue about the day to come - I think I will choose to smile. To laugh, instead of cry, at the things that don't really matter - the frustrations I dwell on - the things I make weighty, out of my own need to rest. And those things that are truly weighty? I think I'll cry and I'll smile and I'll continue to feel. And then I'll choose to release it into His hands. Because it's all a part of this beating heart. And it's okay that it hurts. And it's okay to press into joy anyway. To live and to cry, and to laugh, and to love. It's all okay. The Healer is making it turn to grace. And I can just BE here with it all, and breathe in the goodness of this place. And rest can look different in each day.What a gift it is to learn here. Thank you, Jesus, for this passion you've put in my heart. And how you allow our passions to reveal the most beautiful parts of your character - the parts that pull on our hearts' strings the most. My Healer. 

"Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God." - Psalm 90:2 

"The mountains quake before him and the hills melt away. The earth trembles at His presence, the world and all who live in it." - Nahum 1:5 

"Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, 'Go throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in their heart, but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them." - Mark 11:23

"But He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed." - Isaiah 53:4-6

"Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh: is there anything too hard for me?" - Jeremiah 32:27 

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." - Matthew 11:28