Revelation of new

Settling into the new job. Super fancy here in the private sector. They ordered me a chair, painted my office and sent my flowers. There is a whole marketing department. That is weird. It's all weird. The work is the same. I see patients for mental health reasons. I prescribe mental health medications. I do what we mental health nurse practitioners do.

Only it's bananas and super hard. At least it was. This organization is BIG. The patients are COMPLICATED. My coworkers are WICKED SMART. All of which forces my growth. Not growing is why (in part) I left my former job. I needed to grow. My brain isn't completely demolished from all the kids. It needs very science and caring things to do in the service of others. Which is what I do at my job.

For the first two weeks I felt very overwhelmed. Felt very exhausted and began to have nightmares. I took ambien for a week straight. I take ambien maybe once/twice a year. I started saying things out loud to Mr. Hall. My scary, sad, stressful emotional stuff. He laughed and hugged me. Because he's happy for me and my struggle.

This is the same Mr. Hall who happily cheered on my contractions during labor. All smiley and RAH RAH RAH!! That's right. He didn't comfort me during labor so much as cheered me on because it was happening and it's awesome. Because struggle is growth and happiness in the end.

So the nightmares and the constant rumination. I would never be without thoughts of what I said  or did at my new office. At night I would dream I was there too. It was no good.  It all broke loose when I went to church on Sunday.

I hadn't been to church in a long while. Holidays/lazy/what have you. But I woke up 5 minutes before the service and high tailed it there. During the singing I reached on up and asked God for help. It was then I had a revelation.

I had forgotten about that up there. God calls whom He calls because we are the ones to do what we are needed to do. I'm not here, at my fancy new job, because I'm the smartest and most capable. I'm here because He put me here. And it will come. The knowledge, the workings, the reasons I'm here will become apparent. All this rumination and second guessing it the evil one shooting me down, coloring my thoughts and he is wrong.

It was a great lift of ugly. Then there was this silence in my head. No more second guessing or reviewing everything I had said and done at work. No more feeling consumed by work thoughts. Just silence. It took some getting use to. It took a couple of nights but my sleep is 99% back to normal. My energy is returning. And all is well in the House of Hall.

GOD IS GOOD

PRAISE HIS NAME

What if all is not lost?

Got my hair did at the walmart salon last week. As I was checking in, I noticed the little boy's grandma pushing a stroller. The kind where the car seat snaps into the stroller frame. She didn't see me but I approached her.

The little boy was with us for 3 years for some foster parent love. More respite care because his grandma had custody of him and she is older and well, he was a 4 year old boy. She needed help. And M's mom was in/out of jail for stupid drug stuff.

The little boy is here somewhere, on this blog. I think I called him M. Let me go look.

Ok, found him! He's the fuzzy one below.

L-R (M, Mac, River, Pancake) 

Monday, January 14, 2013:

M's Sunday school teacher sent us the following:

"We were talking about family and how we are all different but all
part of GOD's family. That with GOD we can always talk to him even if
we don't see him. It's not like you have use the telephone.

M went on to say this-- 

'My big family that's all together love me all the
time even when I'm not there. Pancake (my other sister) reads to me,
Mac shares his toys, my other baby River smiles at me. My other dad, Pancake's dad,
plays cars with me, gives me snacks, hugs me and tells me he
misses me. Pancake's mom let's me hug the baby and calls me honey.
My other daddy hugs me when I go to bed and never yells at me....he
hold's my hand too and not too hard.'"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's been a year since M left to live with this dad in another state. Even though we had him for 3 years, I never really met his mom. So when I approached M's grandma, I was surprised to see her, M's mom. The baby in the stroller was hers. It was like a very bitter sweet, but super chill pseudo family reunion steeped in the weirdest of sadness.

I just needed to get my roots done people. Frick if I'm not 40 years old with almost all gray hair. 2 inches of outgrowth is too much. I can't own the gray yet. Plus, I need highlights so only professionals will do when getting my hair did. And I'm cheap so that is what brought me to the walmart salon on that very day.

They, the mom and grandma, say M is still out of state with his dad. They showed me an updated school photo and he looks great. I wanted to hug M's mom and grandma. It's super hard because they are nice and still in pain like me with this kid being gone. He's with this dad but gone all the same. They say M still asks about all of us. I say we miss him. I say we're still at the same address and the same number. If he comes up this way,  then we can see him at any time. All of this was said. We said our goodbyes. Then they went about their Wal-Mart shopping.  

So there I was, getting prepped for highlights on a random Thursday morning, trying not to cry. Sighing super heavy and trying to be all casual because the hairstylist doesn't need a client having a meltdown in the stupid chair. Girlfriend had three other clients after me.


Plan for the upcoming year... my 40th





Right now, on Netflix, there is a wonderful documentary on Iris Apfel. She is phenomenal. Wholly dedicated to the aesthetics of life. She also has a good handle on what makes a woman worth the time as beauty fades because she never had physical beauty in the first place. She's 90 and becoming quite the inspiration for me.


Having lost 60 lbs and developed a keen sense of my own strength, I am becoming quite beautiful on the outside. However, I am to be forty in less than a month. What I have will not last and requires a buttress. I get my roots done on the reg and will until I haven't any hair left. After that, I'll just buy a wig.

My life, so far, has been devoted to the service of others. I'm very fortunate to be a wife, mom, foster mom and nurse. It's a good use of my energies. I've also become kindly and less temperamental as of late. I'm becoming a better wife and mom every day. I've ask God to search my heart and He's done quite a lot of healing. Having a dog helps crazy amounts too.

So here's the plan.




I'm handing this year over to GOD. He has great plans for me and our Tribe Called Hall. I'm very sure it'll be tough and super crazy. But I trust Him above all things.


OK 40.


BRING IT!!

The blog, she is neglected lately. I just don't have the inner tormoil I use to have. No inner conflict to write about. Plus, there is facebook. I document my life there so here is neglected.

BUT. I am still a busy bee. Being a wife, mom, nurse and now foster mom.

WIFE

I love being married. I love being Mrs. Hall. We've been married 12 years now and he still rings my bell. No better way to start my day then standing in the kitchen, holding hands with him and praying. Love it!

MOM

3 kids now

Pancake-age 10.

She is so smart and kind. Very much her own girl. Owns a cornsnake, likes bugs and dirt. READS CONSTANTLY. Goes to Zumba and yoga with me and we do inverted headstands together. Starting to show some tween tendencies of self consciousness and shyness. My plan is to use prayer and yoga to GET HER THROUGH THE TEEN YEARS. That and making sure she has plenty of time with her girlfriends so they can be silly and giggle and giggle and silly. She's such a jokster!

Mac-age 6.

Every morning we say 'MAC GET DRESSED!' and 'MAC, EAT YOUR OATMEAL.' Ten minutes later we'll find him sitting there, shirt on backwards, having taken two bites of oatmeal lost in his own little world. He'll smile and say, "If twins don't live in the same house, do they have the same birthdays?" or "How do arrows know how which way to point?" He's a thinker that one. A silly, jokster thinker who never sits still. Like if Plato was a hummingbird.

River-age 5 months

OH THIS BOY OF MINE. I am over the moon with him. So squiggly, so smiley, so baby chubby thighs and giggles. The photo says it all!

NURSE

Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practioner actually

I still have crazy patients and moral dilemas, but there are less so these days. I have found a groove and really enjoy my work. I get to guide people through their crisis and help them heal. It's humbling work. I am very blessed.

FOSTER MOM

The abstract idea of 'being a foster family' started as a whisper in my heart. I heard the whisper, talked it over with Mr. Hall and we prayed. We prayed to let God guide us, let him reveal the opportunity and we would answer his call.

I can't help but giggle about it all. I can't believe how God has changed me through this process. Being a foster mom comes with so many challenges. But challenge makes the heart grow. Our family system has changed too. The kids are use to the other kids that come into our life. They adjust and grow too. Sometimes it's not pretty but in the end, it's amazingly beautiful.

So far, one child has been with us for over a year (on weekends). Another came here a few weeks ago.

It's a task of loving without expectation. We never know when these kids might leave our life. So we love them now, while they're here. We don't know what will happend. So we give them hugs and prayer and warm meals. These kids are great and challenging. I hope OH I HOPE they benefit from seeing Mr. and Mrs. Hall loving each other and treating each other right. I hope they feel God's love.

And it's not just the kids. These kids have bio-moms and bio-grandmas. They are hurting too. Sometimes the bio family members call and it's totally awkward. We help the kids make art projects to bring on their family visits. We send photos and emails. We say, 'he had a great time at the zoo this weekend' or 'She really liked going to the library with us.' We keep things light and positive in one of darkest situations ever.

It's the ultimate task of not judging. Because God didn't call to us to judge, He called us to be shining examples of His light and love.

SO

that's my comings and goings. howzit with yous?

Lots and Lots

Lots and lots of things have been happening in my life. All of which have made me aware of this: I can't do this alone. For instance, I can't fill out the foster parent application alone. I have bad handwriting and can't spell worth a fudge. However, Mr. Hall can fill it out. His handwriting is aces!

I can't study God's word alone. It's easy to draw your own conclusions when reading the bible. So I read it with groups. That way, not only am I held responsible for actually reading the reading, but I hear what others have to say. How the passage affected them. It's a win win really.

I can't parent alone. Not only is Mr. Hall fully invested and involved with his children, he acts a sort of "Mrs. Hall Whisperer" when I am going off the deep end. Which happens more often than I would like. I am prone to being fearful, overwhelmed and befuddled. Not to mention short sighted. Mr. Hall has the long view, he guides me to better places as a Mom.

I also gather with other Moms. We moms are not meant to mother alone. And while Mr. Hall can guide our family, he can't guide all my mom-ness. If you gather a group of mothers together, with the intent to grow in God's word, it's pretty powerful. I highly recommend it.




I can say this. My emerging faith is like a big experiment for me. I feel like a scientist, testing what will happen if I purposefully reach out and grow my faith with others. In these groups, I feel my faith grow in leaps and bounds. It's pretty amazing.

Then, this morning, the Tribe Called Hall all gathered in the four year old room at church. The four year old room is Mac's room. Mr. Hall and I volunteer to help teach the four year olds once a month. Pancake forgoes the eight year old room to be with her family. SO, we all gathered together. Churching in the same room.

I saw my daughter gather 'round the littler four year olds, hugging and cuddling them. She colored with them. All the while praising and cheering them on. "You are coloring so GOOD!!", she'd say :). She even pushed out of her shell, dancing and singing "Jesus is my superhero!" with them. She loved on them something wonderful. :)

I saw Mac stand next to his Daddy while he taught the bible verse to the kids. Mac was Daddy's assistant. Which means he was being bossy and getting in the way :) I sat near the back, helping the shy kids speak up and use their voice. Also, my lap was free for kids who missed their Mommies. My arms were good for hugs too. :)

So there we were, talking about God and Jesus and the Bible to little four year olds. We are not trained to do these things. We just raised our hands and volunteered to do it. And they let us.

It felt wonderful. It felt whole and home. It was awesome. :)

SO, what was the verse you ask?

"Be kind and loving to each other"

It's as simple as that!!

Burned by wild desire

I had a dream the other night. It was like watching a movie of the week. Bette Milder was reunited with her infant son. She had decided to join with her son, her husband and the inlaws and live in duplex. She had had other children, they were older, but, they were well taken care of and she didn't need to go to therm. Somewhere during the dream, I started to morph with the actress and then the story was happening to me.

It was so emotional. I found myself crying in my sleep. I woke up crying.

I worked really heard on trying to figure it out. I believe this dream was sparked by the Fisher Price Nativity set up there. I found that set at Goodwill the other day and gave it to my kids to play with. They love it. They make all sorts of stories up about baby Jesus. That he can fly, that he's from Mars, et cetera. It makes them all curious about Jesus and God. Which is awesome.

So I thought the dream was about my emerging faith. The infant was my faith, in the newborn stages. And the older kids, these were my first, older experiences with faith. Mainly Buddism and Asian philosophy. These were the first brushes with letting a higher power into my life.

However, Buddism was more of a philosophy for me. Not a religion. Not a surrender. Not a belief. And while I will always carry the lessons and tools it gave me, the ways of calming my mind, knowing I am connected to much more then myself. . they are older kids I don't need to take care of anymore.

But then there was this morning. This morning changed my interpretation of the dream a bit. But before this morning, there was last night.

sigh.

It's been four months of trying to get pregnant. It's starting to wear me down. I realize that it's me and my thoughts wearning me down. Not the process of trying. I am impatient, I am a type A person who acheives goals, I am ovulating and timing things to produce another child. But last night I knew wasn't pregant again. I knew before I officially checked this morning, that the pregnancy test would be negative. I knew it and I sobbed really hard while Mr. Hall held me.

Desire is a burning thing. I am sure that having two miscarriages plays a role here but my body, my mind, my heart and my soul all want to be pregnant. But I'm not, and it hurts like hell.

So my next task it to back up and see where I am causing this hurt. I have to remember there is no way I am in charge of this. No matter how many ovulation sticks, no matter how many cervical checks, I am not in charge of becoming pregnant. We can make love, but God makes life.

And my timeline is not God's.

2 Peter 3:8

But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

Then I hand myself over. Surrender. Say to God that according to his plan, I am exactly where I need to be. And I turn towards Him, embrace his love and grace, letting the hurt dissolve. Letting his love heal.

And I'll pray, and worship and repeat this in my heart when I feel the ebb and flow of hurt. And it's awesome this faith. It is beyond anything I've ever had before.

And the wonder of it is, if this is my faith in it's infancy, what will it be like when it's full grown?

:)

This is me, and this is how

This is me, after a vinyasa yoga class. I'm wrung out from the inside like I always am after hot yoga. I'm looking at a flyer for a special prenatal yoga program. I'm wearing a tied dyed tank top that I made with my daughter. I'm looking and feeling all of it.



I'm feeling what this prenatal program means to me. It means I'm at a different place, in my heart, than just a few months ago. To get here, I've prayed, gone to yoga, cried and talked about what has happened. I've embraced the sad and loss of two babies. I've even been part of a healing ceremony. And here I am, in my car, looking over this flyer, getting all excited.



But how do I tell the teacher my history? Should I tell her? I don't want to give her my sadness-this sadness I've worked so hard to work through. And I'm sitting in my car, in my sweaty yoga clothes, doing this scan from head to toe. Looking for pockets of the sadness. Pockets that can bubble up and make me all explodey when I tell the teacher I've had two miscarriages.

And I'm scanning and feeling my heart and body. Scanning, looking and feeling. Closing my eyes and breathing in this flyer and all that it means. Looking at the big preggy woman on top.

And I'm feeling such joy, such happiness. Such crazy love for all of it.



And I realize there's no pockets anymore. I'm not sad anymore. It's just crazy happy. And I'm feeling all this love and hands of providence holding me. Feeling all this divine love. It's so much power that I'm literally overloaded for a while. I can't move.

And then I put the car in drive and drove on home. And Mr. Hall and I got back to the business of letting all this hallowed love grow.

A Sticky Wicket (in a green cardigan no less)

In this church, I could tell Mr. Hall was more relaxed. His body wasn't so stiff, he was melding in the pew. He sang a bit louder and clearer. Then, half way through, he reached over and nuzzled my hand with his.

I felt better too. It was smaller. The color pallet was warmer; more browns and reds. They also had a orchestra of sorts. The bell ringers wore black gloves. They had an electric acoustic guitar player. A baby grand was manned by an earnest soprano. Music was stirring my sleepy heart.

As I was sitting there, listening, I wondered about everyone in the room. I mean, here we all sat; in three sets of pews. Each one of us, saying the prayers and singing the songs. We invoked the universal and mighty, all by declaring the most personal. But, does everyone feel the spirit? The whole lot of us?

Or is it just me?

Then there was the sermon about light. About how God is light. How in times of need, when everything is crashing around us, we need to get back to the building blocks of faith. To rebuild we need to go to the light and the feeling of God's love. And all my millions of thoughts came to a screeching halt.

It was during communion. I was waiting my turn to rise and eat the wafer. I found myself blinking back sticky wicket tears. I tugged the sleeve of my green cardigan over the palm of my hand and dabbed my tears with it. Mr. Hall took notice and smiled. I smiled. And though the tears were dainty, they carried a ton. I tend to forget that my job is hard. I tend to forget that everyday people come to my office and unearth pain for me to take. I tend to take it on, like it's mine to fix. I tend to think I'm in charge of things. As a result, I've been shutting off to my patients lately.

Not listening as much. Not caring as much. Getting shorter and apathetic.

But here, in the pew, I was letting go. My pain was leaving and light was entering. I was so moved. So comforted. Then it was my turn to rise. I took the wafer and the wine.

I miss being Catholic, but that's not going to stop me

This is a short and choppy discussion of my faith. I want it to be more poetic and pretty but I'm short on time so this is what I offer.

Now . . . let's bow our heads and pray . . .



I dare anyone to find a more beautiful church than a Catholic Church. There are miles of red velvet, large stain glass windows and sculptures that can stop your breath. What other place of worship can offer this? In Kansas no less??!!





And don't get me started on the robes. Red, purples, golds . . . and black and white too.





Sigh.

I miss it. I'm not sure if any of you were raised Catholic or if it meant anything to you but I did and it does. I was even confirmed. Which means I chose that church.

Then I morphed into a creative and unique individual. Artsy as all get out. I started rejecting the church on moral grounds. The Catholic church says gays are bad and so is birth control. Also, women not need apply for priesthood. All of this was intolerable for me as a teenager.

I left God fall by the way side for about ten years. Biting and fighting any mention of God or Jesus. Angry and punk about all of it.

At age 20 or so I went to Amsterdam. It was a cheap flight. I was still a nursing student. I had never been to Europe and was smacked dumb by the cathedrals. At that point, I was already questioning my non faith. I was finding myself a little more needy at that point. Needy for a religion.

I wanted to find a priest and go to confessional. I wanted to cry and say, "Look, I'm feeling all this beauty in my life. I'm becoming a nurse and seeing all this life and death and blood and guts stuff, and it's breaking my heart. And I can't fight this anymore, my need to know God, in whatever form I can reach him or her. Help me please."

But I didn't do that because I knew that the Catholic Church is not my church. I can't have it be my place of worship if they don't let everyone come. If they are in charge. Because I've never felt God is higher or above me. I've felt faith and the ties that bind us all. I just want to get closer to that spirit.

Sigh. I didn't do anything on that trip.

After I got home, I did date Mr. Hall though. I trusted him enough to begin talking to me about religion. He never shared without me asking first. He was very kind and loving with me. Still is.

Then we went to Mr. Hall's church. It was in the bottom level of a house. It was run by South Korean missionaries. South Korean missionaries who came to the United States no less. And there I was, sitting on a metal folding chair, trying to understand the sermon. Because even though the pastor had been in the US for ten years, he still had a thick accent. It was like listening to Jackie Chan preach the gospel.

Then there was the retreat. That'll be a separate post. But, this was when my heart started opening up to God. Then I went to bible study. I found myself becoming a better wife, a better mom and a better nurse.

Now we are settled in our new house. My longing for my old church, here in my hometown, was very strong. "Can we please try St. Mary's?", I say to Mr. Hall. "I mean, I know all the prayers, when to sit, when to kneel. I know it all there. I don't have to guess what I am doing. It's my church."

Then I talk further and my argument gets weaker. Then I start to really talk about it.

The problem is, is that the Catholic Church is top heavy. For too long it's placed the priests on the same level as God. It creates an idea that God is separate, like a father figure watching over us. As such, those further up the food chain, the priests and the bishops, they have a lot of power over the organization. And like most top heavy conglomerations, the workers receive a less of the largess. But instead of less pay, we get less God.

I can say that I need faith. I need to be actively seeking out the love and spirit.
So, no matter how much I miss the rituals and sacraments, I am still a seeker.
And missing the Catholic Church is not going to stop me.

And at this point, I've been to a local church twice now. Seems very nice, all sorts of warm and open. And this place, this is where I begin.

Thank you for reading this. NOW-

GO FORTH AND SIN NO MORE!! :)

E.R., time of death 2200

What can I say about ER?

People always ask, is that stuff real?

As real as a heart attack I tell them.

The only flaw is that sometimes, just sometimes, their treatments/medications are a bit behind the latest treatments. Medicine moves just that fast.

Well, emergency room medicine does.

The last episode touched on all the areas that are universal to all health care.

And it showed what doctors and nurses do best which is struggle and eat absolute garbage at four am and be tired and be traumatized and try hard to hold it all together and then you get older and more experienced you can go sit next to a man and say, ‘its time to think about making your wife comfortable.’ And ‘this irregular breathing this is a natural part of dying’.

And not even miss a breath. And have it come out like you are tying your shoes.

I can say I have watched only about 10 episodes of ER.

And even though I have not worked in an ER, every episode feels like going to work.

Because the ER is the place everything and anything can and will happen.

Which feeds the crazy that drives all the nurses and doctors.

Ya see, when you crack open an anatomy book, when you open up a cadaver, when you take a blood pressure, when you put in an IV, when you help birth a baby, when you wash an old man’s face after he pukes up coffee ground emesis, you fight a sergeant to get the inmate to a hospital, when you hold a patient’s hand as they die, when you teach someone’s twelve year old daughter to help clean their granmma’s wound, you sit with a patient and help them unpack unbelievable sadness and trauma and watch as they heal, watch as they come out of their darkness, get their job back, talk to their kids more, and when you listen to their wives and find out they are healing too . . then . . .



You have seen God.



Now here is your assignment, what is the definition of a sternal rub and when was it used in the last episode of ER? First correct answer gets 50 points.

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Have a good weekend everyone!