Monday 24 December 2012
Thursday 13 December 2012
Labour of Love
It's 2 o'clock in the morning, I've been up since 4 in the afternoon, on my feet since 730 in the evening aside from a brief hour spent charting at midnight. I'm tired, I don't want to be bothered, I just want the rest of the shift to sail smoothly with no problems. I'm waiting for that magical hour: 715: end of shift. Then a brief sleep and I'm up to enjoy my life again, pick out a Christmas tree, go out for dinner with colleagues, curl up in my fuzzy pajamas at a normal hour of sleep with my crocheting and a favourite movie, or maybe snuggled up with my favourite blanket, a flashlight and an old book. ...
And the call bell rings... and its about the 50 millionth time that night... and its one of my patients ... and its one of the patients I had settled not too long ago.... and the irritation starts to rise in my thoughts like bile, the complaints, the murmurings... What does he want now? Can't I have a moment's rest? It's 2 AM, why isn't he sleeping? But I go over and pick up the receiver, 'Can I help you?'
'Can I have the nurse come?'
I modulate my voice so it is gentle, not irritated and ask 'Can she bring you anything?'
'No, I just need the nurse'
I feel the frustration rise a little bit more. I know that I'll get down to that room and he'll ask me to go and get something. Why can't he just tell me what he wants and then he gets it quicker and I can get back to my chair quicker and just sit. These grumbling thoughts fill my heart and mind as I move down the hall to his room.
'Nurse, I'm hot' ....
'(And?!) ... would you like a ice pack made up?'
'Sure, or a wet cloth maybe. Also, I'm having difficulty breathing, and I can't sleep.'
I've given him his sleeping pill about 2 hrs ago and we just gave his puffers less than 1/2 an hr ago. And he's already on oxygen. What more can I do????
'Well, let's try repositioning you so that you are able to sit up better, give your lungs some more room to expand'. He is lying kinda askew in the bed. I reposition him in the bed, tough because he is a big man, easily 200lbs, but he tries to help; I return with an ice pack and a cloth rinsed in cool water.
He thanks me as I leave the room 'you're such a sweetheart' and I cringe inside because I know I'm not, I know I'm annoyed at having to be here, and annoyed that I can't do anything to fix his problems and help him sleep and breathe easily, and annoyed that I have failed again to 'be merciful as my Father in Heaven is merciful'
I return to the nursing station just in time for the call bell to start ringing again. I look at the screen and this time I don't bother to pick up the receiver and ask, this lady is in with an infectious diarrhea, in the last 7 hrs of being on duty I've changed and cleaned her up 7 times. My heart goes out to her, but that doesn't stop the frustration from surfacing yet again.
And then God speaks to me. I can't describe it in any other way. He has spoken His peace directly into my heart. He sends me lyrics of a song I haven't listened to in years. Not quite all at once, but gently a few words at a time, maybe not quite the right words I can't remember, but the words I need at this moment...
With all life's frustrations I need you and I know I do
'Cause the only real peace that I have dear Lord is in You.
Oh God have mercy on me, even tho I have failed to have mercy, even though I have failed to cheerfully serve Your child who was sick. Help me to do better next time. Pour Your love into me so that my words, my voice, my actions, and especially my attitude, my heart is gentle and compassionate, overflowing with your overflowing love. You are love. Change me to be like You. Change me to be love.
And a phrase of a verse dances through my mind 'your labour of love'
And suddenly I understand with unquestionable, unmistakable, distinct clarity exactly what this phrase means. Your labour of love.
Its work. Its hard work. Its demanding, wearying. It can be irksome and burdensome. Its labour. Being love doesn't simply means being nice, its way more than that. Its not just that I serve people, though that's closer, but I can serve from a bitter, hate filled heart. Its not just that I show love or act in a compassionate way, it doesn't matter if I am gentle and self controlled. If there is not love, abundant, ocerflowing, cheeful love in my heart I have failed to 'be love', to 'be like God'. Loving people around me requires doing not just the nice, easy things that come at little cost to myself, it requires responding only in joyful, laughing, self forgetful adandon to the needs of others even when I don't want to do so, even when it will hurt, even when its 2 AM and I am miserable and exhausted. Labouring in love starts from a heart that is filled with God's love, it requires an attitude of cheerful giving, it responds in sincere joy and rejoices in the opportunity to serve another in their need. Labouring in love is doing the monotonous daily things of life not just without murmuring and complaining, but with joy and rejoicing. Its not just the things I do, its the attitude with which I do them.
Its so hard too write these words. I have failed here so many times. And there is no guarrentee that I will be successful next time, that I will respond in love. Its such a high standard and its so much easier to grumble than to respond in love. But bit by bit God, in love, is labouring in me and one will 'present me [finally] spotless before the throne of His glory with exceeding joy'. In the meantime, 'may the love of Christ control me'
The love of Christ contrains us... And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for Him who died for them and was raised again. 2 Corinthians 5:14a,15
And the call bell rings... and its about the 50 millionth time that night... and its one of my patients ... and its one of the patients I had settled not too long ago.... and the irritation starts to rise in my thoughts like bile, the complaints, the murmurings... What does he want now? Can't I have a moment's rest? It's 2 AM, why isn't he sleeping? But I go over and pick up the receiver, 'Can I help you?'
'Can I have the nurse come?'
I modulate my voice so it is gentle, not irritated and ask 'Can she bring you anything?'
'No, I just need the nurse'
I feel the frustration rise a little bit more. I know that I'll get down to that room and he'll ask me to go and get something. Why can't he just tell me what he wants and then he gets it quicker and I can get back to my chair quicker and just sit. These grumbling thoughts fill my heart and mind as I move down the hall to his room.
'Nurse, I'm hot' ....
'(And?!) ... would you like a ice pack made up?'
'Sure, or a wet cloth maybe. Also, I'm having difficulty breathing, and I can't sleep.'
I've given him his sleeping pill about 2 hrs ago and we just gave his puffers less than 1/2 an hr ago. And he's already on oxygen. What more can I do????
'Well, let's try repositioning you so that you are able to sit up better, give your lungs some more room to expand'. He is lying kinda askew in the bed. I reposition him in the bed, tough because he is a big man, easily 200lbs, but he tries to help; I return with an ice pack and a cloth rinsed in cool water.
He thanks me as I leave the room 'you're such a sweetheart' and I cringe inside because I know I'm not, I know I'm annoyed at having to be here, and annoyed that I can't do anything to fix his problems and help him sleep and breathe easily, and annoyed that I have failed again to 'be merciful as my Father in Heaven is merciful'
I return to the nursing station just in time for the call bell to start ringing again. I look at the screen and this time I don't bother to pick up the receiver and ask, this lady is in with an infectious diarrhea, in the last 7 hrs of being on duty I've changed and cleaned her up 7 times. My heart goes out to her, but that doesn't stop the frustration from surfacing yet again.
And then God speaks to me. I can't describe it in any other way. He has spoken His peace directly into my heart. He sends me lyrics of a song I haven't listened to in years. Not quite all at once, but gently a few words at a time, maybe not quite the right words I can't remember, but the words I need at this moment...
With all life's frustrations I need you and I know I do
'Cause the only real peace that I have dear Lord is in You.
Oh God have mercy on me, even tho I have failed to have mercy, even though I have failed to cheerfully serve Your child who was sick. Help me to do better next time. Pour Your love into me so that my words, my voice, my actions, and especially my attitude, my heart is gentle and compassionate, overflowing with your overflowing love. You are love. Change me to be like You. Change me to be love.
And a phrase of a verse dances through my mind 'your labour of love'
And suddenly I understand with unquestionable, unmistakable, distinct clarity exactly what this phrase means. Your labour of love.
Its work. Its hard work. Its demanding, wearying. It can be irksome and burdensome. Its labour. Being love doesn't simply means being nice, its way more than that. Its not just that I serve people, though that's closer, but I can serve from a bitter, hate filled heart. Its not just that I show love or act in a compassionate way, it doesn't matter if I am gentle and self controlled. If there is not love, abundant, ocerflowing, cheeful love in my heart I have failed to 'be love', to 'be like God'. Loving people around me requires doing not just the nice, easy things that come at little cost to myself, it requires responding only in joyful, laughing, self forgetful adandon to the needs of others even when I don't want to do so, even when it will hurt, even when its 2 AM and I am miserable and exhausted. Labouring in love starts from a heart that is filled with God's love, it requires an attitude of cheerful giving, it responds in sincere joy and rejoices in the opportunity to serve another in their need. Labouring in love is doing the monotonous daily things of life not just without murmuring and complaining, but with joy and rejoicing. Its not just the things I do, its the attitude with which I do them.
Its so hard too write these words. I have failed here so many times. And there is no guarrentee that I will be successful next time, that I will respond in love. Its such a high standard and its so much easier to grumble than to respond in love. But bit by bit God, in love, is labouring in me and one will 'present me [finally] spotless before the throne of His glory with exceeding joy'. In the meantime, 'may the love of Christ control me'
The love of Christ contrains us... And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for Him who died for them and was raised again. 2 Corinthians 5:14a,15
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