I never wanted to be a nurse. I’m an admirer from afar, extremely thankful for the ones gifted and called to this great work. But glad – more now than ever before – that I’m not one of them.
It’s been a hard week, and it’s only half over.
Steve came home from the hospital one week ago. I’m grateful he’s progressing so well with his therapy. I stayed home from work with him the first two days, but I’ve since had to resume my 10-hour-away-from-home daily routine.
The first night home, Steve fell at 3:30 a.m. in our powder room. I heard the crash and flew to help. His operated leg with the new bionic knee was wedged between the toilet and the wall, in a room that had no room to pick him up, with a knee that doesn’t bend. He used his engineering brain to figure out how I could slide him out of that spot in a series of small maneuvers, like getting a parked car out of a really tight spot. Somehow, together, we got him out into the hall and upright in a bigger space.
Since then, it’s been constant. Changing bandages. Dispensing pain meds. Moving the heavy Continual Passive Movement machine. Filling up ice packs. Hooking up the Therma-Cool and Deep Vein Thrombosis machines. (I’m learning so many medical terms.) Sopping up sticky spilled grape juice from our pale yellow walls and formerly polished floors.
One of many things I appreciate about my husband is that he gladly stepped up to do most of the food prep around our house when I took my job. (I had to quit extolling his virtues so often when I saw my friends become disgruntled with their still-working husbands.) But this last week, I’m sure I’ve cooked more and bought more groceries than I have since we moved to North Carolina.
It all adds up to an extra 30 minutes tacked on to my early morning schedule, and I’m not an early-morning person. During the day, I carry the pressure of concern for Steve like a scarf around my neck and shoulders. And by the time I’m finished with caregiving each evening, I stumble into bed and hope to sleep while keeping a vigilant ear open in case I hear another crash.
Probably you are, too.
I can’t change my circumstances, but I know how to get what I need. I need rest.
Not just physical rest, although that couldn’t hurt. I need spiritual refreshment. The kind that only comes from the Lord. Hard as it is to squeeze more into my day, this is the one thing that gives back. Mysteriously, I gain more energy when I take time out to sit at the Lord’s feet. And just be.
Does weariness describe your life? You may not be playing nurse right now, but you may be overworked and overwhelmed. If so, I hope these verses will refresh and restore you the way they’ve done for me. Come to Him, and find the rest your soul craves!
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matt. 11:28-30
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Ps. 46:10
The generous will prosper; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed. Prov. 11:25
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isa. 40: 18-31