Whenever I hear
I sleep with the window open at night. Maybe it's because I am trying to live my 3rd grade dream of spending my time outside as a forest ranger. That same year,however,I found a cool, dusty hat and changed my future prospects to that of an archeologist. I would dig in the mud, bury things and try to find them later. This worked out just fine until one year I buried the Easter eggs, figuring my siblings would be delighted as I was to dig in the dirt. The ensuing wailing and gnashing of teeth was stark proof that not everyone in the household shared my love of digging in the dirt. Some eggs were not discovered until months later when some unsuspecting traveler wandered by an impromptu egg burial sight and almost passed out from the stench of decaying matter. All threads of my aspirations were connected by one thing;the desire to be outside. In 4th grade we had a career fair and our school nurse, Mrs Wahlquist, described her job and some of the blood and guts stories she had accumulated over the years. She had been commissioned in the army and so had seen a lot of battle wounds. The room started getting really hot as she told tale after tale . I was surprised when the air around me began to swim and swirl, threatening to swoon me into unconsciousness. I had to be excused to go to the bathroom, where I sat in the smooth porcelain hole, with my head against the cool metal of the stall, and until the air quit trying to overtake me . "Note to self, " I thought, "Never, ever be a nurse! Dirt is much funner than blood".
As is true with many aspects of life, sometimes the true egocentricity of childhood is swallowed up in other worries and we indeed lose our memories of self-reflection. Sometimes I mourn that time! I knew exactly what I wanted and decisions came easily, because I was so centered on myself. I take that back, I was enchanted with myself AND the world. I took everyday as a new adventure. The sun did shine just for me, the flowers opened their petals and perfume for my nostrils and the birds sang their merry tunes for my ears alone. The ironic thing is, all my musings were true. God created all those things for my soul a lone. His perfect love would have made all those things just for me even if I were the only human on earth. That is how great his love is for every human soul.
Matthew 18:3King James Version (KJV)
3 And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
This portion of scripture did not make a whole lot of sense to me as an adult. Surely I was a lot smarter and seasoned than a mere child. Why would God want me to return to the ignorance of childhood? But then, I looked deeper into my memories and I found that in those memories and love for being outside, I was witnessing God's love for me. I was so confident in myself as a child only because everyday I naturally gravitated towards signs of his love. He wrote love notes in the wind and His warm arms surrounding me through the rays of the sun. In a psychological sense, the process of individuation, or returning to the inner child, works mainly because we return to the time when we knew and basked in the love of our Father in Heaven.
Untrue to my childhood wishes, I spend most of my days indoors, not picking flowers or walking through thick mud...this was my favorite, but I have indeed shared the life of the school nurse, Mrs. Wahlquist. Blood, not dirt, surrounds me. I have not needed to be in the army to see war wounds. These abound aplenty in the chaotic lives of the modern man. Floundering, even violently, he hurts his neighbor, his brother. Replacing dirt with concrete, modern man is out of tune with the needs of his very soul. Forgetting the words of God's love, he festoons his skin with symbols and art, sensing that skin was VERY loved, but not knowing where to find that love. Sometimes I wonder if my patients and myself, would be better off in an outdoor hospital arena, where a light sprinkle of heaven's rain would wash wounds more lovingly. Where ultraviolet rays would stem off fungal or even MRSA infections. Where we would "Be still and know that he is God".
As is true with many aspects of life, sometimes the true egocentricity of childhood is swallowed up in other worries and we indeed lose our memories of self-reflection. Sometimes I mourn that time! I knew exactly what I wanted and decisions came easily, because I was so centered on myself. I take that back, I was enchanted with myself AND the world. I took everyday as a new adventure. The sun did shine just for me, the flowers opened their petals and perfume for my nostrils and the birds sang their merry tunes for my ears alone. The ironic thing is, all my musings were true. God created all those things for my soul a lone. His perfect love would have made all those things just for me even if I were the only human on earth. That is how great his love is for every human soul.
Matthew 18:3King James Version (KJV)
3 And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
This portion of scripture did not make a whole lot of sense to me as an adult. Surely I was a lot smarter and seasoned than a mere child. Why would God want me to return to the ignorance of childhood? But then, I looked deeper into my memories and I found that in those memories and love for being outside, I was witnessing God's love for me. I was so confident in myself as a child only because everyday I naturally gravitated towards signs of his love. He wrote love notes in the wind and His warm arms surrounding me through the rays of the sun. In a psychological sense, the process of individuation, or returning to the inner child, works mainly because we return to the time when we knew and basked in the love of our Father in Heaven.
Untrue to my childhood wishes, I spend most of my days indoors, not picking flowers or walking through thick mud...this was my favorite, but I have indeed shared the life of the school nurse, Mrs. Wahlquist. Blood, not dirt, surrounds me. I have not needed to be in the army to see war wounds. These abound aplenty in the chaotic lives of the modern man. Floundering, even violently, he hurts his neighbor, his brother. Replacing dirt with concrete, modern man is out of tune with the needs of his very soul. Forgetting the words of God's love, he festoons his skin with symbols and art, sensing that skin was VERY loved, but not knowing where to find that love. Sometimes I wonder if my patients and myself, would be better off in an outdoor hospital arena, where a light sprinkle of heaven's rain would wash wounds more lovingly. Where ultraviolet rays would stem off fungal or even MRSA infections. Where we would "Be still and know that he is God".
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