My life in Maine

     A number of people of people have asked why I haven't "continued" my blog the last few months here and have requested that I do so. I'm not sure what they're expecting, and I'm not sure my tales of this quiet little town and my life of tranquility will be what they seem to be holding their breaths for. I suppose I've stalled sharing certain things because I feel like I don't really have anything incredible to profound to share! I'm still trying to process and digest what I'm experiencing and learning here and still can't make any "and thus we see" statements. I could just start rambling and see if anything of interest comes out. I've got one easy patient and a whole night ahead of me.

    So... I'm here... across the continent... in a self-imposed social timeout. I knew no one when I came here... and was technically "alone". Yet... I have really never felt alone. It is a beautiful comfort and feeling that I have spent hours trying to explain to people here when they say, "but don't you get lonely??" For many here that have never lived away from their families and have kept the same friends geographically close to them their whole lives... I seem insane. It's not that I don't miss many people that I love fiercely.. nor is it that I don't need people... but it has a lot more do to with Christ's promise in John 14 when He says, referring to sending the Holy Ghost, "that he may abide with you for ever." I have found so much comfort and support from my friends in the scriptures and the increasingly strong presence of the Spirit. It is indescribable. I wish I could give others a real taste of what I experience... but I have to be careful not to forcefeed my joy and excitement down those that couldn't care less and have no desire to taste. Seperating myself from the comforts and support of familiarity, friends, and family... has helped me become better aquainted with this "constant companion" that I have been given. Hopefully as I move on from now... I can be more aware of and sensitive to His undeniable presence no matter where I am. For now though... this social isolation has helped me develop and better friendship with an unwaivering companion.

    I feel so safe and secure here! (though some accuse me of naively feeling that way anywhere) I feel confident that I can stop and ask anyone for directions (a constant and unfortunate necessity for me) no matter where I am. (never mind the killer running loose in the next town over. oops!) I just tell that these people are kind. Some of the kindest are in the local amish communities. I am loving them!! It is so fun to see their buggies parked at walmart, or in the next lane over in the intersection, or walking around town. I am dying to know them. I stopped and bought jam from a man naping under his buggy. His name was Joseph Zook. He said I could come do chores on the farm with them anytime! You better believe I will.

      French music has become a new obsession for me. 75% of the radio here is in french, so I've developed some favorites... but still can't figure out what they're called! There are a lot of Arcadian French speakers here and the hospital fills up with their geriatrics. I LOVE THEM. Old people garble is even cuter with a french accent. A woman woke up once and was confused and hysterical. As I ran in there and tried to figure out what was bothering her, she was yelling at me in french. I hollered back, "SPEAK ENGLISH!" and then she started screaming incredible profanities in english that I'm sure were heard from all parts of the tiny hospital... so I quickly said, "NO NO! Speak french! SPEAK FRENCH!!!" Seriously though... there are very few people that could be more darling than a frail little man with a thick french accent saying, "I hope my bowels move!" *swoon*

     The hospital that I work at has been a very different experience. Not bad! Not at all! Just very different. It's much smaller than where I was before, and the patient acuity level is way different. If a patient is severely sick, they are packed up into the helicopter and sent to the south part of the state to a bigger hospital. (As long as there isn't a moose on the helicopter pad like there was a few nights ago. Only in Maine!) It almost feels like cheating not to be spending most of my shift on my feet... running to keep someone alive. At first it hurt my pride that they would send away the kind of patients that I'm used to caring for... and though I often don't feel like a "real nurse"... I have come to appreciate many things about the change in pace. Not running around like a chicken with my head cut off has allowed me a lot of time to read and ponder. I have rekindled an old passionate flame with good literature and am loving it.

     One of the many things I have missed is the influence of latin culture in my life. The language, the food, the culture, but especially- the people. I walked into walmart (I know... it's been really painful for me... but unavoidable. There is NOTHING here.) and saw a group of latin men! Perhaps I was looking at them weird... because they were all staring at me... and it was an odd moment of mutual "...do I know you?" ... and so... to break the staring contest.. I smiled as said, "Buenas tardes!" as I was walked by... and was startled when they all errupted into a loud response of "BUENAS TARDES!!!!!"... and we were all in shock. They are here straight from Mexico to work on the farms here for the summer. They could hardly believe that they have found an American that spoke their language.. and we were happy to find someone new that could understand us.

   In Caribou, I was living fairly close to a plot of land that had a number of bunk houses. The last few months.. I have seen a lot of latin looking people there and have pined to meet them! I wasn't sure how to just show up and start talking with dozens of men... so I held back until I had a better plan. Last sunday, I made a TON of cookies with a new friend I made at church... and we headed over to my neighbors. When we walked up with big bowls of cookies and I said, "hello neighbors! How are you guys?"... they all just froze and stared. It was not the reaction I was expecting. So.. to try to break the ice I said, "umm.. I live right nearby... and I... brought you cookies?" - I was speaking spanish... so I couldn't figure out why it was like talking to a wall. They continued frozen. So I said, "well... ok! So... here ya go!" and we handed them the cookies. Then someone slowly said, "...what? These are..for us?" I laughed and said, "umm... ya, you're my neighbor!" and they all simultaneous broke out into smiles and laughter. I think they initially thought I was from the government. They invited us to eat dinner with them and we started talking and became good friends.This next week I am starting as a volunteer nurse in a local mobile clinic that goes around to all the farms in the county and works with the migrant workers. I am SO excited. Totally my groove.

I am living in Presque Isle for my last month. I am dog/cat/house-sitting for an awesome family that is on vacation for a month. The house is near the state park... and it is spectacular here. I feel like I'm in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Oh ya... I basically am!

    Did I mention how much I love the ward up here? LOVE IT. There are so many powerful families that have taught me so much. I love being there and soaking in their examples. I've been blessed to spend time with many of them in their homes... and it is so much of what I have needed. I've been serving as the sunday school teacher of the 14-15 year olds- a total dream of mine. I ADORE them. I also substitute primary... and am so humbled by their knowledge and mastery of the things that I'm supposed to teach them! For example.. last sunday... I was asked right before church to teach the 4-year olds. I hurried and looked online and saw that the topic for that day was "reverence". I suddenly imagined a tiny room full of 4 year olds screaming, running, crying, fleeing... and I was terrified. I went to go pick up my pupils the third hour... and these sweet little 4 year olds led me to their room... with their arms folded and text-book reverent. "Shoot. This is another extreme. What could I possibly teach them?" These girls were pro. They taught ME.

Welp... sorry this isn't more exciting and exceptionally eventful... but it was an honest update!

Wind in my Hair

        When I first came to Maine what is now 2 months ago (seriously!?), I started my routine of biking to work. It's 15 miles from the brocolli fields of Caribou to the "downtown" (baha) Presque Isle.... which sounded like nothing! I had done 50+ miles fairly easily in the Salt Lake Valley... and so I assumed this was going to be a joy ride. I failed to take into consideration how flat the valley was... and the magnitude of the rolling hills here in Maine. Soon into my first voyage to work... I started to forget how beautiful I found these huge green hills upon arrival... and was begining to loath the next hill before I even finished the last. I thought, "Freak. 15 miles all up hill.... this is gonna be GREAT going down hill all the way back after a 12+ hour shift!"

      On my way back... I was facing hills AGAIN. How could that be?? Wasn't this supposed to be a pure coast back now? As I was giving a pep talk to my legs and they were telling me about the long night they just had at work... we were interupted by a flash of envy when I saw a biker flying down the hill that I was fighting to climb. The thought, "pf... ya... he's jetting it because he's going DOWNHILL." ran through my mind. Then I suddenly stopped and had a huge epiphany. That biker was going down the same hill that I must have gone down on my way to work 13 hours before! Why didn't I remember knowing I was going downhill? I suddenly realized that after every hill I finished... instead of enjoying the feeling of gliding downhill and feeling the wind in my hair... I was too consumed with powering through it to get momentum and prepare for the next hill that I was dreading. I had physically stopped on my bike and was overwhelmed with this realization. It astounded me because the Spirit penetrated my heart and told me... that this was an error I was committing with my life!

      My life here in Maine has been lovely. I've been free of a lot of pressures and burdens that I had faced before... but I was struggling to enjoy it. Just like this bike ride. Rather than appreciate the opportunity to stop and enjoy the feeling of the sun on my skin I pined for during winter, all the changing smells of trees, flowers, and field, rather than give my legs a break, consciously relish the feeling of the actually clean air hitting my face, or even the humor of the bugs splatting on my glasses... I was missing it all! I was unecessarily CHOOSING to be stressed out, to fret over a future I couldn't control, and bemoaning a past I couldn't change. Standing there, panting and sweating in the middle of a meadow... I finally was confronted with this pathetic reality of myself...and was asked, "Why?". The discussion and answers that followed were fairly complicated, personal, and unecessary to include. I share this private moment to explain why... I am determined not to miss out any more. When things things are good, I want to accept them as such. I want to learn to be sincerely,completely, and wholly grateful- no matter what side of the hill I'm on.

              "Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others." - Cicero

My personal light show

"The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure and the sense in which he as attained liberation from the self."

                                                                       - Albert Einstein

I had high hopes and dreams for this 4th of July. I saw it as a golden opportunity to try to get the young single adults in my ward or my new immigrant friends together and have a prime missionary opportunity and a great time with new people. After hours of knocking doors and looking for people on my list this week.. I had no success. I thought "ok... I'll get my Mexican seasonal worker friends together!" ... Couldn't get ahold of them. When I woke up this afternoon (after working last night) to find it pouring rain, I thought, "forget it, I just want to work". I really did want to work. Work has finally gotten interesting between our cracked out man escaping the hospital stark naked and a new atv accident... I felt like I was in an ICU! ....but not even the hospital would have me! There were no crossfit classes today... I think I read so much today that even Nelphi was sick of me... But I had to get out of the house! So.. I went on a run.

     It was probably the best 5 miles of my life. It was perfectly warm... Raining... Lovely summer night.. and unbelievably picturesque. As I was going along, I looked around at the dark broccoli fields around me... And was shocked to find that the fields were....glittering!! It was as if I had taken a shovel of glitter and had launched it over the field... But I hadn't. I suddenly realized that this captivating phenomenon were from the fireflies! I just had never seen them in such glory. I stood there in awe listening to the music of the rain hitting the leaves of the trees, being sweetly cleansed by the drizzle... And watched my personal independence Day lightshow. To me, this topped the fireworks of my childhood and even the ones I had seen in D.C. This was different. 

       In that moment, I reflected on the independence in my life. I was filled with gratitude for the liberties that this country has granted me- to learn, to live, to be as I choose. I can't even begin to recount all the blessings that ran through my heart.. Of those things and people that have given me liberty... And all the results of my liberty that I hold so sacred. In those moments of reflection... The Ultimate Liberator came to mind. I realized that the deep and profound freedom I had been discovering over these last few weeks here in Presque Isle were not so related to the country or state I was in... But that I was becoming liberated from my personal and private enslavement through the atonement of Jesus Christ. I realized that the more I had come to depend on my Savior... The more free and independent I had become. That is something to forever celebrate!

     Standing alone in that farm land basking in the glow of glittering broccoli... I felt free. I am so grateful for the liberty that no man, law, nor government can ever strip from me. 

Happy Independence Day my loved ones!!!

Culture Shock

         I have been having quite the experience here in Maine. It's been a strange mix of confusion, feeling out of place, and disbelief. Though not to the same extreme... I have felt it may be almost comparable to the "culture shock" I experienced upon my arrival in the country of Belize. Yet... I'm still in "my" country... in the USA... I couldn't be having a "culture shock"... could I?
       According to the Merriam-Webster definition....
   "Culture Shock: a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation" 

         ... I am having a culture shock.

       Now, lest I be misunderstood... this is not a cry of discontent... but rather... a submission to the reality that I am living. I have always prided myself in my capacity to be flexible and easily adapt to diverse and strange situations and environments. ...I've been proven wrong. 

       There is nothing wrong with where I am. Nothing needs to be changed in regards to the people, the area, the hospital, or the culture here. I had high hopes that I was being sent here to make a big difference in someone's life... or in the hospital.... but I am realizing that I didn't come here to change Presque Isle.  
                                     I am here so that Presque Isle changes me. 

       Life here is so wonderful...  but I don't know how to live it. It is opposite and even caustic to most of what I have ever lived before... and to who I have thus far been. I came thinking that I'd get to learn new things about people... but I'm mostly learning new things about me. Some, of which, are not so pretty or comfortable. I am a long way from "home". Over 2,000 miles. I left a lot a things and people behind... and thought I was making a great escape. I am now realizing... that I seemed to have followed myself all the way over here. 

      Being in the middle of nowhere doesn't offer much more than one of main things I pined for:

                                                                     time. 
 Now that I have all this precious time that I never seemed to be able to obtain before... I don't have all the silliness I drowned in before to fill it. So... now what?

      In my many 24 years... I have lived with deeply engraved formulas that...
                                                       Self Worth = Productivity
                                                                       and
      One's productivity is measured in units of stress, busyness, and check marks on a "to do" list

So... here I am... in the middle of a potato field... with no calls to pick up extra shifts, no church calling, no gym to go to, no one in sight to serve, hardly any missionary lessons to go to, no temple to serve in, no seminary to teach... nothing to do but... run, read... thiiiiiiiink.
       According to my well developed life-long philosophy... my self worth has taken an automatic plummet. Moving here.. and taking away all of my "busyness"... has stripped me of my value, capacity, potential, and ultimate worth. All because my planner is now... almost useless.                                                                   HOW CAN I LIVE LIKE THIS!?!?!?

    Of course... I can agree to the reasoning that all my religion and personal beliefs would tell me... that my formula is actually false doctrine. That God would never place my worth on such a scale. I get that... but I don't get it. I haven't really had to. The scale has always worked great for me... because I've always been able to tip it in my favor. Now that I'm thinking about it... it does seem silly, huh? I've never put anyone else on that scale. That would be unfair and unreasonable... obviously everyone else has divine nature and eternal worth without utilizing such bizarre mathematics. So... why am I making up my own?

     Anyway... without getting too deep or out there with this all.. the point is... this is different for me. Some call this the "end of the world"... and someone disputed that and said, "no, but you can see it from here!" The sign for Maine says:

      

some say, "Maine, the way life used to be"
It is so... simple. Life here is... simple! It's great! It is so different... and despite the shock of it all... I am trying to really value it and relish all the little things. I am in the Aroostook County... which is HUGE. I suppose it's geographically vast and demographically quaint. It is also the oldest County in the country.

I live in a little town called Caribou.

 

Which is part of the old swedish colonies!

 I work half an hour away in the 10,000 people big city of Presque Isle, also known as

the "hub of Aroostook County".


There is no hurry here. NO HURRY. What is a hurry? What do we have to hurry off to? I am always in a hurry.... so I am the alien here.I've been in a hurry to graduate, to get my license, to go on my mission, to jump into my career, to be a travel nurse... ect.  I am the weird one. Time to adapt.
    In northern Maine.... family is not just an accessory to life. Family IS your life. In this regards... yes... Maine IS the way life should be. As I travel through "desolate" land, or... farm country... I see houses here and there... and when I first got here, I thought, "gah! People live here? Out here? HOW?". Today it was warm, sunny, beautiful. People were out mowing their lawns as their kids played in their yard. I then realized... OH. They live with their FAMILIES.     ...what else do they need? Why did that take me so long?

   Church was such a great experience on sunday. It was full of screaming kids and waddling toddlers... total heaven. The families are so solid, big, and tangibly happy! I wasn't sent here to lift up the ward... they have already lifted me! They love and live the gospel. They don't need the excitement or prestige of a big busy city... with all those kids... they have the excitement they need- and the kind that really counts. I was invited to sit in the pew with a family of 14 kids. WOW. The father was a nurse where I work, but then he went into liver failure. With hardly knowing him... he freely and joyfully told me of the miracle of finding an organ donor who was a former coworker that became his brain-dead patient. It was so miraculous and touching... I could tell that this was a special man. Not to mention... he's adopted 9 kids and has 14 in total. Sitting at the end of this big, happy, techni-color, multi-racial, united and happy family... was an honor. The kids were so cool and quality. When the 14 year old next to me pulled out her ipad during sacrament... I immediately started to roll my eyes, "the youth these days! Come on! now is not the time to play games!"... but when I saw that she was sincerely and earnestly reading "The Living Christ"... I shrunk into my shell of shame. They have accepted me as their 15th child. :)

    Did I mention how beautiful it is here? The BIG open sky that was so so blue today... the green rolling hills full of so much foliage! It is gorgeous! They tell me the potato blossoms are the real ticket. There we go... something important to put on my calendar. :) I am loving the random little houses that are so cute, clean, and happy. My phone does no justice to the beauty of it all... but...

The people are beautiful too. I feel like I am living "Our Town" by Thornton Wilder. They are so kind, approachable, down-to-earth. I feel like I could knock on any door and find someone eager to help at any time. I am loving the cute little nuances in culture... and find pleasure in soaking in every bulletin board I can find.

(For you west-coasters... Supper=dinner)

In case you were wondering about the fiddlehead of the "Fiddlehead Supper"... It is the delightful top of a young fern..

That is a big rage at this time of the year and sold all over.

Yes... my life has become so eventful... that I am blogging about... fiddleheads.

I have always loved Paul's declaration in Philippians 4:11,
       "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."
                             ...but my wandering spirit has always failed to live it.

     As I was sinking my toes into the mud and skipping rocks at my nearby pond... I saw two geese gliding on the water... and I was envious of them. They looked so... calm, peaceful, and able to accept the tranquility around them. They weren't wanting something else while they had so much around them. They were grateful for where they were and weren't already making escape plans. They were happy to stay. They seemed to have mastered the art of taking the emptiness I saw and felt as, "beauty". I know I'm making a lot of assumptions about geese... but in them I saw... what I wanted to have. I thought about what Paul said and watched how these geese seemed to so beautifully personify his creed.... until I remembered...
                                                     Geese migrate.  

I Believe in Miracles

"Nurse, in your time working here.... you've seen lots of miracles, right?" 

  

         ...was the question that made me pause my computer charting and turn around to face the searching eyes of a concerned mother-in-law, and large family of my comatose leukemia-stricken patient. The stare of desperation from this young mother, pleading to be given hope that her lover and father of her 9 children would rise and walk again... struck me to the core. The emotion radiating out of the oldest child's face seemed to scream to me, "Please! Tell me that my Dad will hear my mission call when it comes next week!" I suddenly felt the intensity and pressure to deliver an expected performance as if the room had blacked out into a stage in front of thousands... and the spotlight was on me. 

   "Miracles?"  I stammered... "Yes, I have seen many miracles..."

     My mind began to frantically sift through the mental files of all my past patients... grasping for the most impressive and relevant example to assuage their fears and buoy them up with peace and hope.  ... just as a good nurse should, right? As I came across the file marked with the name of the last comatose patient in that very same bed... the one that had been declared brain dead and futile, who... through the relentless faith of his mother... awoke and rose again... my thoughts were interrupted by my own voice that started to speak with startling confidence and surety...

    "but... the most miraculous are those in which the families and loved ones are filled with peace, comfort, and strength to move on- even when things do not turn out how they had wanted them to."

     Even while listening to myself, my mind was waving my past patient's file yelling, "No No No! Use this one! They'll like this one a lot more!!"... but the Spirit overtook me... and left me with no doubt that this was what they needed to hear. From that moment on... despite the uncertainty of the doctors, I secretly knew that this man would not be in his mortal body to hear his son's mission call. 

     When I walked into the unit the next shift, I was met by the mother-in-law in the hall who threw her arms around me and said, "You were so inspired to say what you said to us. It was from God to prepare us. I don't know how to tell my daughter... but I feel like he's not there.... that only his body is left." Now, I make no claim in knowing when the spirit leaves the body... but I could not deny the indisputable difference I felt when I walked in the room. As I cared for him... it was like no one was home. Or perhaps more so that... he had gone home. 

   I shared the next painful week with this family and watched this woman weep over, pine for, and sleep in the bed with her husband as if in any moment he would slide his arm around her and hug her fears away. I saw that not only did she desperately need him...she fiercely loved him. Seeing her diligence and devotion to him inspired me to be a better human being. - For I truly doubted my own capacity to love someone with such complete selflessness as she. I didn't know how to help her come to terms with what was to come. The hours I spent sitting with her, crying with her, bathing him with her as she told me stories of him... only left with more questions and pointed fingers at God. "Really? Them? NOW?" and the worst of all..."Why!?" Each time.. my own voice would come back to me with the assurance of the Spirit... that they would not be deprived of His miracles and mercy.

     I spent a few nights holding the youngest baby and talking to the oldest son while the wife slept. I think it was miraculous how he continued to have the strength and determination to serve a mission, despite his worries about his family and desire to stay home and take care of them. He told me of his surety that they could be together again in everlasting happiness... and that news was too big not to share with the world! He was so at peace and sure about everything... I think that was a miracle. 

    I didn't get to be there the night that he died... but the wife has contacted me since. She has shared with me her witness to the miracles and divine intervention that they had experienced since his passing. She admitted to missing him terribly and to having struggles... but that she was astounded by the unnatural strength she has received to carry on and continue to care for and provide for her 9 children. 

I have been criticized and pointedly asked, "How can you STILL believe in God when you have seen so much human suffering and unanswered prayers?" I wish I could lend them my eyes of faith and allow them a glimpse of what I get to see every day. I echo my testimony with prophet Moroni's words in the Book of Mormon in Mormon 9:11,15

"But behold, I will show unto you a God of miracles.... God has not ceased to be a God of miracles" 

    Last year, I was blessed to spend the last night with a patient and his wife. Due to the continuous dialysis machine, I needed to stay in the room constantly, and he was my only patient. He was another comatose leukemia patient that we had coded a few days before, and had gone into multiorgan failure with a very grave prognosis. He and his family had been through far more than seemed fair in the last 2 years... and the dreaded was coming. It became such a tender experience as I bathed him with his wife for his last time. She shared with me the financial, spiritual, and emotional struggles she faced, and her fears for her family's future without a father for her adolescent children. Yet... she never doubted or disdained the Lord throughout it all. I was deeply touched to listen to her love, praise, and recognize Him in so many instances during their battle. She had not allowed any of her pain to extinguish her blazing gratitude for the miraculous conversion of her husband a few years ago and the blessing of being able to have her family sealed in the temple for all eternity. She rejoiced in the miracles she had seen in her family- especially her oldest son. She could see the blessing of his closed and cold heart being newly warmed by the sparks of faith during this trial. 

    In the face of great temptation of doubt and bitter rebellion, this woman had truly chosen faith. As she prayed for miracles... she understood what miracles really are. The Bible Dictionary clarifies that "miracles should not be regarded as deviations from the ordinary course of nature so much as manifestations of divine or spiritual power".

    When the children arrived at the hospital in the morning, they discontinued treatment and he quickly and peacefully slipped into the next act of the play. Weeks later, I answered the phone at work late at night and was so surprised to hear her voice on the phone. "Kali!!! I've been looking for you! I am so glad you answered!" She had called just to share with me the miracles that they had experienced. She related many tender mercies such as anonymous donations to help with the financial strain... and the support and service of others. "I can't even keep track of them, Kali. It was just like we talked about. We are ok. We are great! We miss him SO MUCH...but I hardly believe the peace and comfort we have in our home. There is no way to describe or explain it.                                    ...it is a miracle." 

...How could I NOT see Him in all of this? Moroni nailed it when he said,

"Behold, are not the things that God hath wrought marvelous in our eyes? Yea, and who can comprehend the marvelous works of God?" (Mormon 9:16)

The Great Escape

   On hour 30-something... I started thinking that the big "cross-country ROAD TRIP!! YA!!!" that so many idealize as the ultimate MUST-DO during their relished "single-glory days"... is way over fantasized. I knew it would be a lot... but the magnitude of 43 hours driving alone for this girl that is famous for her alarming narcoleptic driving patterns... was more than I could have really fathomed before leaving.  

    It many ways... it was what I so desperately needed. After months of being socially overdone and much emotional chaos.. the long hours of solitude, pondering, reflection, and revelation... was the exact treatment for many of my secret ailments. I needed time with myself.... and myself was happy to secretly elope with... myself. Yet... my tense post-mexican-zumba legs did not get along well with 10 hours a day of sitting and driving, nor with the burdensome cold that made a guest appearance along the way. So... by friday night... I was feeling maxed out and upon seeing a Motel 6 in Kingston, Canada.... I was ready to see nothing else but a pillow. I had been staying in Motel 6 the whole way (yes... I know... the Peck family will be so appalled... but after some hostels in Central America- it was basically a Renaissance to me...) and was just going where it was the cheapest. When I walked in this friday night... and they started assigning me a room.... something did not feel right. Before I could even mentally digest it.. I realized I was already out of the hotel and getting into my car. I said to myself, "Kali! what are you doing? Where else are you going to stay? Your GPS isn't working and who knows where else a hotel is going to show up!"... but... I just... started driving. Many miles down the road, I came to a Comfort Inn... and when I realized it would be twice as much as the Motel 6 (totally against my personal budget and policy...) I again realized I had no control over my body as I saw my hand giving my credit card to the man at the desk. Again...I was so confused... but I felt at peace.. and didn't know why. So... I just accepted that I was doing one of those weird random things that didn't resonate with my mental reasoning... but was right?

    Once I dropped my backpack on the bed and finished a phone call... I suddenly heard a soul-piercing scream. My stomach dropped... and had an instant understanding that someone was dying. I ran across the hall and pounded on the door and just heard gasps of a woman... and I yelled, "OPEN THE DOOR!!!"... and the door opened to find a frantic woman babbling something about, "My husband! It's my husband!" I burst into the room... and then she said, "No! the bathroom!" I tried to open the bathroom... but the resistance against it only allowed me a glimpse of a man face down. I shoved my way in and when I couldn't find a pulse... I tried to get him on his back. I had to yell to the wife, "GET IN HERE AND HELP ME FLIP HIM! NOW!" and she got in and we struggled and finally got him over. I immediately started compressions and told her to call 911 or whatever it was in Canada! 

     This was a fairly big man... and I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep doing compressions until the paramedics go there... so while pumping away... I had to tell the wife, "I need you to calm down and get ready to do compressions." and she screamed, "I can't! I don't know how!" and I yelled back, "You're have to! Get down here! Get ready!" and... I made her pound on her husbands chest as she sobbed. I ran out in to the hall and found 3 men standing there stunned and trying to understand why we were screaming. I pulled them in and told them to get ready and GO! We continued to rotate doing compressions for probably 12-15 minutes... though it felt like forever. It was terrible. There was so much I wanted to do... but didn't have my team or equipment to do it. I tried to give him respirations after trying to clean the vomit from his mouth... but his airway was too occluded. I felt helpless. All I could do was coach the compressions and pray for a miracle. 

   When the paramedics got there and took over...  I heard the wife tell the whole story. She related that he ran into the bathroom while she parked the car and brought the suitcases in... and had been in the room for 10 minutes or so thinking he was just doing normal business on the toilet (like anyone would have thought!) until she checked on him. I realized that I had been pounding on a man that had probably been dead for over 10 or 15 minutes before I got to him. We didn't know how to tell the wife... so we kept coding him.. they did everything right... everything possible... but after doing CPR for a total of 25-30 minutes... we were out of options. Before they called it.. I went into the room (because they had carried him into the hall)... and pulled this woman into my arms... and said, "I am so sorry". What else could I say? 

    It is a running joke that I am "The Death Nurse". They seem to give me the patients that are expected to die... or need treatment discontinued. I think it is an honor to be their nurse at that stage of life... and it is a sacred joy for me. I don't know how many times I've pronounced someone dead... or have to explain to the family why this is the end. For me... it is a calling... and I love it. Yet... this moment... was one of the hardest ones for me. This wasn't in the hospital. I didn't have days and weeks of time with this woman... I didn't even know her name. She didn't have days or even hours to prepare for this... this man didn't even have a cold before she found him like this.      .. this was a very different case for me. I wanted to collapse on the ground and sob with her... out of my own shock, frustration, exhaustion, horror, and sadness... but that had to come later. This was her time. 

    When the paramedic came in, and knelt at her knee and looked up at her with so much regret and said, "...I am so sorry..."... she lost it and I had never felt so helpless as I did in that moment. All I could do was hold her with all the strength left in my arms as she sobbed and screamed in an agony that I can't even begin to comprehend. 

    I started to feel like a failure. I am an ICU nurse... I was the first responder... I was so clearly led to be there in that hotel.. in that room... in that moment... but... why? I couldn't save him.I started to think..." Could I have found him sooner somehow? Was there something else I could have done that could have brought him back? Why was I there then?" ... as I held my new friend and sister in my arms.. the words floated into my heart,

 "You are there so that she knows that I am here." 

After the detective finished asking her all the mandatory questions... and she and I were alone... I felt to ask her, "Rebecca.. do you believe in God?" ... she she said, "No... but it would probably help right now." Then I hesitated to ask... but couldn't deny the prompting... "But...Do you mind if we pray to Him?"... and she said, "Please." ... I could barely talk... there were so many emotions... and I was so desperate for His help and comfort for her... that words did not seem a sufficient supplication. 

We spent the next 3-4 hours together... sitting in the dinning area of this Comfort Inn.. in the dark. Half of the time was spent in silence.. as this young and sweet 31 year old woman struggled to grasp the reality of that evening. I tried not to overwhelm her... I tried no to be preachy.... but I was blessed with the right moments to be able to testify to her with surety this life is not the end. She said at one point, "I can't believe you're here." ... and all I could say was, "Though tonight seems so cruel and unfair... and though we cannot see God with our eyes... please see Him in this. He knows you. He did not want you to be alone tonight, because He loves you. He has a plan for you." 

   As we sat looking through pictures of her husband on her phone... I saw lots of pictures that looked like they were from the 1800's. When I asked she said, "oh, it's weird... but I've been really into doing my genealogy lately..."  ... it took everything in me not to burst out with joy and a dancing... I didn't want to overwhelm her.. so all I could say was, "That is SO great. Your ancestors are really happy you're finding them." 

    I then remembered the extra Book of Mormon I had in my car. The last thing I packed... the last english copy on our shelf...and the moment the Spirit said, "DON'T LEAVE UNTIL YOU HAVE ONE!".... funny how hours before all that... I was in my car thinking, "hmph... maybe I was overly optimistic in thinking I'd find someone to give the book to. I haven't met anyone... I've been locked alone in my car this whole week.."    When I gave it to her, she said, "no no.. this is yours!" then I said, "actually... it's yours. The Lord told me to packed it for you a few days ago. He really does know you. When the reality really does sink in... when it hurts more than you could have imagined.. when it's more than you can bare... open this." ... and then she burst into tears again. 

    When her family got there... it was time for me to hand her over to them. It was hard. From being a faceless scream... to a very intimate best friend... I came to love this women deeply. It's been three days... and I still cannot get her off of my mind. She gave me her contact information and I gave her mine. I think we will be eternal friends. 

   After a startling phone call to my mom, (apparently she thought the worst when she heard her "calm and solid daughter" bawling hysterically on the phone at 3 am) and a bath... I found a letter had been slipped under my door. It was from the manager. She thanked me for the "lasting impression" made on her...and said that I would not be charged for my stay there.       ...as bad as the world may seem at times....   

                   I truly believe there is so much more good than evil. 

    I could only drive a few hours on saturday. I had vastly underestimated the toll of the previous night's events... and had to stop in Quebec. It ended up being one of the highlights of my whole trip! I knew Quebec was french speaking... but I really underestimated HOW french it would all be! All the signs were in french.. EVERYONE spoke french... it was so exciting! Plus... no one ever told me (ok... maybe Anna did...) how beautiful the gospel is in French!!! 

   Despite not understanding 95% of what I was hearing... being in that sacrament meeting was like dumping my soul into a luxurious bubble bath. It was the spiritual hug and soothing that needed after all that had happened. I had been starting to feel alone in this world of French... trying to make sense and be at peace after the trauma of friday night... driving all week alone... I didn't realize how hard it had been on me... until the sweet sister next to me in sunday school showed me they were reading Joshua 1:9... and I pulled it up on my phone in english. 

      "Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord they God is with thee withersoever thou goest"

The poor sister was so concerned when I couldn't control the tears streaming down my face... but I couldn't tell her in french that they were just... from gratitude.. because that scripture was for me. It was a loving reminder that the Lord had sent me out here... He had guided me every step of the way... and no matter how far away I was from family or friends or anything familiar or english... I was not alone. I have continued to feel that... even here in Maine... in the middle of nowhere. 

    I'm finally here... and it is green, lush, and beautiful.. but far more... isolated... than I have ever experienced before. I am excited for it to stop being cold and rainy so I can run out and soak it all in. I am happy to be here and am excited for whatever is to come. I am so grateful for the sacred and powerful experiences that I have had along the way. I cannot deny His hand in all of it... and I stand all amazed. 

I am not a blogger

Welp... I shall start a blog.
    Yes, from my own accord. Mostly. Really... I have been pestered by this impression to start a blog for... oh... probably a year now... but especially lately. I am not a blogger though. I appreciate everyone else's blogs and always wish THEY would write frequently and such.. but I am not a blogger. Anna engineered and maintained our blog in Jerusalem, and my sister posted my mission letters. That is the extent of my blogging. Until now. I am unsure of why I am starting this... but only that I strongly feel that I should. I hope that whatever content that may fill it... shall be to the comforting, teaching, inspiring, or at least ENTERTAINMENT... of someone.
    You see... we have been told innumerable times to use social media for a greater work... but I have always let that fly past me.. because of course that commandment is for those that have something to share or something valuable to say. I suppose in that... I have overlooked and devalued the reality of the sacred and miraculous experiences I have almost daily. Perhaps the Lord is sick of me being so selfish in keeping these moments to myself and He intends these experiences to be for a grander purpose. The reality is... my life is full and beautiful. The Lord is constantly making Himself manifest to me in so many different faucets of my life.. and I must stop hesitating in the declaration of that.

     Since the return of my mission, I have been working in an ICU in Salt Lake City, Utah. Despite my life-long declarations that "I will NEVER live in Utah"... the Lord saw necessary to serve me my own words. I had wanted to work in an ICU since I had ever thought of becoming a nurse... but without previous nursing experience and not having been in an American hospital for 3 years... I didn't dare even ask in prayer to get a job in an ICU. I knew I wasn't worthy or ready for that. Since returning from my mission... I was, however, seeking to go WHEREVER He wanted me to go. I felt like I didn't belong in Spokane during this next phase of my life... but I had no idea where to go. I started sending out applications all over the country.. but with such a weak resume, I wasn't surprised by the lack of responses. I then started planning to stay in Spokane with my family as I finished up my bachelors degree in nursing online and work as an RN in the nursing home where I already had a job.

     One day, as I was working, the Spirit clearly told me, "Go to Utah for a week." - which made NO sense to me. So... I ignored it. Later... it came again.. but even stronger: "Go to Utah for a week!" So... I started making plans to go to General Conference with my family for the weekend.... but the Spirit gave me one more surprisingly threatening warning, "NO! FOR. A. WEEK." ... and though confused and frustrated... feeling that my time would be better served being productive and working in Spokane rather than bumming around Utah for NO REASON... I succeeded.
      While in Utah... I met the famous Sister Schmidt that had served as a nurse before me in my mission. When she told me that she worked at LDS hospital in the ICU, I told her how that is one of my far off dreams... and then she stopped and said, "wait... did you apply for that job?" I thought about all the dozens of jobs I had applied for and knew it was possible... and then she said, "because my manager just showed me an application from a girl that just got off her mission in El Salvador and asked if I knew her... and I think it was you!!!" ... so... Sister Schmidt, AKA, Michelle, called the manager and told her I was in town... and the manager said, "PERFECT. Three people just quit- bring her in for an interview!".... and because I was there for that whole week... I was able to be there for an interview. It felt so right and became so clear... that I was being "transferred" to Salt Lake City.

     These last two years have been full of surprising trials, pains, joys, miracles, opportunities, and blessings. In so many ways... it has not gone how I had planned or expected... but I feel like it has been what I have needed. I have lived with two girls from my mission and have been able to meet some of the most incredible angels from all over the world that have taught, served, nurtured, and loved me. I have seen examples of faithful saints that have embellished my own understanding and dedication to the gospel.I have worked in one of the BEST ICUs in the whole world... and have loved the team that I have been honored to be a part of. I have had some of the most sacred experiences of my life with my patients and coworkers there. Those rooms and halls are forever hallowed in my heart. I have been blessed to serve as a temple worker in the Salt Lake temple, and a substitute seminary teacher. I have seen friends get baptized... and really felt like I was living such a dream only to be improved by having my own family. I could have happily stayed in Salt Lake for many years more... but that is not where I am now.

    I have been asked so many times why I am leaving. If things are so good in Salt Lake... my job... friends... roommates...marriage prospects... why drop it all? What do I expect elsewhere? ... I don't know. Just as I didn't know why I was going to Salt Lake for a week that April 2012... I don't exactly know why I just packed my car and took off to Maine. Other than... it felt right.

 Being a travel nurse has always been of interest to me. I am adventurous... and am known to have a restless soul. Yet... as I became so comfortable and content in Salt Lake.. the prospect of being a travel nurse nearly lost it's appeal. Perhaps... that's what pushed me towards it too. It startled me to become so comfortable and content in life...it became borderline complacency. I awoke to the realization... that I needed to go.
   I again found myself on my knees... pleading to go WHEREVER He wanted me to go. Yet... in my mind... I had the fantasy of going to a big, assiduous city full of diversity and adventure...... I especially wanted to go to Washington D.C. and be with my big brother. Though I prayed with "open minded" requests... I bowed my head with fingers and even toes crossed for what I wanted. I was talking to lots of different agencies... and told them what states and cities I was interested in... and had them focus on D.C. There are needs for ICU nurses aaaaaaall over the country- I could really have thrown a dart at wherever and have gone. Recruiters kept insisting that the big money was in California... others swore by the beaches of Florida... and so on. This search went on for... weeks.. perhaps even months. One day.. a recruiter sent me an email saying something like, "I know this is really random and NOT what you have been thinking.. but this job posting just jumped out at me... and I thought I should shoot it by you. Just a thought... you don't have to even consider it... but... I just thought maybe..." When I opened the job and saw that it was for a little town in Maine... before I could mentally process it... my heart leaped and was instantly infused with light. It... felt so right.
 
  After accepting the job, I called the bishop of the ward and asked him what it was like there and if he knew anyone willing to rent out a room. He seemed confused as to why this single 24 year old girl was going there and asked if I was sure. I laughed and tried to tell him that I was indeed sure I was crazy...and that I needed to go there. I told him a little about myself, and he said, "wow... that is so interesting... because we were just saying in our bishopric meeting yesterday how much we could use a return missionary sister that has a car and would be willing to work with these new sister missionaries we have here. Wow... funny how the Lord works, huh?"

    So... going to a little 10,000 people town in some of the most underpopulated land in the country... was not what I had imagined when I said, "wherever!"... but... I said it... and I intended to mean it. SO... after getting back from my trip to Belize on monday night... tuesday morning... I jumped into my car and headed to... Maine.