So I haven't blogged for a while, partly because I feel like I've had a ridiculously busy series of months through the late spring and partly because I haven't felt like I had anything to blog about. I felt fairly emotionally burnt out for a number of weeks in April and May, and nothing really stood out to me. I'm feeling better overall, but nothing struck me until I was reading the list of vital signs on pediatrics the other day.
The vitals come in a list with different headings: blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate, pulse ox, etc. But what caught my eye wasn't one of the numbers or its heading. It was one of the entries under the heading "position," usually used to indicate sitting/standing/lying. Since I am on pediatrics, however, this entry read a single word: Held.
Such a powerful word. In one syllable, it brings to mind images of a mother tenderly cradling her sleeping infant, a husband embracing his grieving wife at a graveside, a father catching up a child that runs to him to throw her in the air and catch her close. It evokes the idea of security, of being valued and protected, of love and affection. It reminds me, too, of the Natalie Grant song "Held" which explores the ways in which God is present for us, holding us, in the midst of life's trials and suffering.
Much of what makes me feel burned out are the things I carry with me - my own insecurities and shortcomings, my friends' or family's struggles or disappointments, my patients' suffering, pain, and resignation to the way their lives are that in so many ways fall short of what God intended (relationships, health, sex, loneliness, etc.). What if I can find a way to let all I carry - and myself, too - be held by the Father, the weight of it all still there (because it is real) but no longer borne by me, no longer heavy on my shoulders? If it takes feeling people's pain to learn to recognize his steady embrace, that's a price I'd gladly pay. Because I do trust that whether or not I feel it, his arms carry me secure. And maybe then I can invite others and their pain that so moves me into the strong love of the Father where they, too, can know what it is to be held.
The vitals come in a list with different headings: blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate, pulse ox, etc. But what caught my eye wasn't one of the numbers or its heading. It was one of the entries under the heading "position," usually used to indicate sitting/standing/lying. Since I am on pediatrics, however, this entry read a single word: Held.
Such a powerful word. In one syllable, it brings to mind images of a mother tenderly cradling her sleeping infant, a husband embracing his grieving wife at a graveside, a father catching up a child that runs to him to throw her in the air and catch her close. It evokes the idea of security, of being valued and protected, of love and affection. It reminds me, too, of the Natalie Grant song "Held" which explores the ways in which God is present for us, holding us, in the midst of life's trials and suffering.
Much of what makes me feel burned out are the things I carry with me - my own insecurities and shortcomings, my friends' or family's struggles or disappointments, my patients' suffering, pain, and resignation to the way their lives are that in so many ways fall short of what God intended (relationships, health, sex, loneliness, etc.). What if I can find a way to let all I carry - and myself, too - be held by the Father, the weight of it all still there (because it is real) but no longer borne by me, no longer heavy on my shoulders? If it takes feeling people's pain to learn to recognize his steady embrace, that's a price I'd gladly pay. Because I do trust that whether or not I feel it, his arms carry me secure. And maybe then I can invite others and their pain that so moves me into the strong love of the Father where they, too, can know what it is to be held.
a beautiful post, Amaris, and i really liked the song by Laura Story.
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