Blessed with a burden...

My roommates and I usually have our best conversation in the kitchen, perching on the counters while some tasty goodness is in the process of being prepared. A few days ago this was the scene again. This time its Caroline brewing up some fabulous Louisiana Cajun Gumbo while I perch, a breathtaking aroma filling the house.

Caroline is a new nurse. She just started at Vanderbilt Children's after graduating from Samford University and completing the nurse residency program at Vanderbilt. She's working in the same specialty as me...Hematology & Oncology.

This week Caroline experienced for the first time the overwhelming burden of watching a parent lose a child. Watching her deal with the frustration and utter helplessness of journeying through such tragedy with a family has resurfaced many memories of children I have known over the last few years.

I have had a stirring in my heart... a command that the Lord keeps requiring of me... one that I recently learned to avoid.

I've been thinking a lot about Chelsey...a patient of mine from a few years ago while I was working at Texas Children's. More details on her story here. Perhaps this conversation is the sequel to the conversation I wrote about in the blog linked above.

When I look back I can see how I have learned to protect myself when it comes to my job. I have learned to set up boundaries in an effort to avoid the deep heartache that I often feel for these families as I seek to bear their burdens. It's a protective mechanism.. and it is safe.

Moving from city to city as a travel nurse made it much easier to escape the possibility of entering into actual relationships with patients and families. I did my job...I smiled and joked around with the kids...I still got upset when faced with the reality of death. But I learned to leave it at that... something I never wanted to allow myself to do. Im not even sure when or how it happened.

I know there's a line. After Chelsey died, I said that I would absolutely never be as close to a kid as I was with her... not that I regretted investing in her life, but I didn't think it was possible for me to endure the wrestling and the utter emotional exhuastion once again...not to mention the feelings of defeat and spiritual attack.

Caroline and I chatted for a while about those boundaries and the difficulty of maintaining our own health and sanity while still being able to engage in these families lives, lifting them up and bringing their deepest burdens before the throne of God. Its a risk. And above all it requires a very open, a very healthy, and a very honest relationship the Lord, knowing that only He can handle the big stuff... the ugliest stuff of life.

The very next morning I received a text msg from Chelsey's mom. Aside from the occasional email, we have not talked in over a year. The txt message simply read, "Call me". Not sure if it was a mistake, I had to call her. Come to find out, Sandy was txting without her glasses on again and actually meant to txt her daughter Amy, but sent it to me instead:) We ended up catching up for over half an hour. They are doing well... Life has continued despite the ever present sting.

I mentioned to Sandy about my conversation with Caroline...adding that I still think about Chelsey often and miss her like crazy. Her tone changed. And she said, "Amber.. you've got to deal with that. You know that Chelsey would have an absolute fit if you didnt invest in other children the way you invested in her life. You know she found her faith through you, and you cannot hold that back from the others". Moved to tears, I agreed.

Sometimes kids cross my path and there is just something that stirs... a command to step in, even while not knowing what lies ahead. Its a command that can be heeded or avoided completely, but the stirring doesn't leave regardless of the action (or inaction) I take.

That said...meet Makenzie. She's a beautiful 8 year old girl that I have had the privilege of caring for over the past few weeks since her diagnosis. Click here for her story. Please pray.