jachristofersen8

My Hill to Die On

This morning I had an argument with my daughter before we left for church. She wanted to wear her converse high tops to church. I told her absolutely not. She said, “Everyone dresses down in church. I’m the only one that is dressier”. I said, “We are going to worship God in his house and you will dress accordingly”. Even my husband said my grandmothers would be going crazy in this conversation. I went a little further to post a funny Facebook status about my early morning battle of the wills with my daughter. My cousin commented, “Gosh, That’s your hill to die on?”.

I didn’t understand the meaning of what my cousin said so I had to google what “is that your hill to die on” really means. I found things like pick your battles, do you really want to insist on your point of view on this, you are making your stand, etc. After giving it more thought, the comment bugged me.

So here it is. Here’s my “Hill to die on” on the topic of church.

I frequently attended church with my grandmothers during my childhood, through my teenage years and into my early twenties. My grandmothers were devout Catholics. They attended church regularly, observed all of the Holy Days, recited prayers in Italian and English and knew the purpose of every saint. I always admired them for that. As a little girl when I would enter the church with one of them and get settled into the pew, they’d softly whisper in my ear, “This is God’s house and we have to behave in here”. I did what I was told. I sat quietly and didn’t dare to act up because I was in God’s house.

As far as I am concerned, my grandmother’s were geniuses. Their lessons were simple, to the point and appropriate. Here’s what they said about being in church:

1.Dress respectfully. Remember you are in God’s house.

Lately I’ve noticed that people are really beginning to dress down in church. I’ve noticed athletic shoes, sports jerseys and sweat pants. Once I sat behind a man who’s cloths stunk as if he’d been out late, slept in his cloths and got up and went to church in the same cloths. Yucky! I realize that God probably doesn’t care what people wear to church as long as they go but what happened to Sunday Best? What happened looking your best for God?

2. Arrive on time.

I’ve seen some people arrive as late as the reading of the Gospel, which is about the half way point in an hour long Catholic Mass. I’d be ashamed beyond belief to walk in church that late. Walking into church late pulls the attention away from the person on the alter who is speaking, praying or reading. It’s disruptive to the people who had the decency to arrive on time because now the on time people have to shift their attention from the Mass to whether the usher is going to ask them to move over to make room for the tardy ones. Traffic delays beyond our control do occur but if the delay is bad enough to make me 15 minutes late, out of respect for others, if I found myself that delayed on my way to church, I’d turn around and go home.

3. Don’t be disruptive to others.

Today I sat on the left side of the church at the isle in the back. There were multiple families that arrived late. Too many to count really. Well into the first reading this young family arrived and sat in my pew. The mother fumbled around in her bag crinkling plastic to open a snack and a find a toy for her toddler child. To make matters worse, they reeked of fried food. The toddler began to talk to his mother as if they were in a room alone and it was okay to be loud. The mother shhh’d him periodically but it was ineffective. It slowly began to wear on my nerves. I literally had to put my finger on my right ear so that I could tune this child out and focus on what the Priest was saying. The fact that I even had to do that made me angry. Thankfully his mother finally removed him.

Today’s mass was about getting epiphanies and revelations of God’s presence in our lives. I cherished every word of the Priest’s homily especially when he told us of a personal experience of his own. I felt God’s presence today, yet I struggled. I struggled to accept that people are going to arrive late and I have not control over it. I struggled to tolerate the noise of this family next to me. I struggled not to judge the people who couldn’t leave their football jerseys and sweat pants home until after church.

After church my husband and I took our daughter out for lunch and I explained to her why we don’t wear converse high tops to church. I told her the three basic principles of church etiquette that my grandmothers taught me. As she prepares for her Sacrament of Confirmation in May, I want her to keep these things in mind. She understood.

So what’s wrong with me? Am I turning into a fuddy duddy because I believe people should dress and behave a certain way in church? Have I lost my ability to accept others as they are even if they are late, improperly dressed and disruptive in a place of worship? There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s called having a set of beliefs. It’s only one of many hills that I will climb to die on during my lifetime. I’ll stand behind this one for the rest of my life. My grandmothers taught me well and I know they’d be proud to see me on this hill.

Christmas

Luke 2:9-11

An angel of the Lord stood over them and the glory of the Lord shone round them. They were terrified,

but the angel said, ‘Do not be afraid. Look, I bring you news of great joy, a joy to be shared by the whole people.

Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord’.

This is what I’ve been looking forward to throughout this Christmas season. I’ve endured the greed of others on many levels, traffic that makes me crazy, the rushing around, the insanity at work, the non stop go go go, knowing that I would attend Christmas Eve Mass with my family. To listen to the Priest read these words from the Scripture, use them in his beautiful homily, and to sing, rejoice and imagine the birth of Jesus Christ. This is my gift to myself and my true meaning of Christmas.

It is now Christmas morning. We’ve opened presents and enjoyed one of our favorite Christmas breakfasts. At this moment I feel discouraged. I am trying to get past the silence and disappointment that one of my children is displaying. Each kid got things they asked for plus things they didn’t. I spent equal amounts of money on them but did not indulge them. No Red Ryder Bee Bee Gun type of gift this year. I made the mistake of telling this child I had one last thing for them in my car and gave it to them unwrapped. My husband made the mistake of wrapping the expensive item that the other child saved their money for and purchased themselves and saying it was from Santa when it really wasn’t. I think this disappointed child feels they haven’t gotten enough when in reality between my husband and I, our siblings and our parents, they have. My husband and I raised our children to be grateful for what they are given and to work for what they want so when they do get the Red Ryder Bee Bee Gun type gift, it is meaningful for them whether it was given to them or they purchased it themselves. We discourage greed. Yet sometimes this child never feels as if they never have enough and that makes me feel like I haven’t done enough as a parent to teach them.

So, I’ll carry on and relax for a few more hours before it’s time for me to shower and cook dinner. Hopefully this child will do a self check and change their attitude or it will be a long day.

I wish all of you peace, love and joy on this Christmas Day.

Holiday Series Part 3: Music

The stage was decorated with poinsettia plants. The auditorium was dark. The band wore Santa hats. People who know this band and have kids who’ve played in this band look forward to this song each year. The audience sat quietly as the band prepared to play it’s final selection: Sleigh Ride. I’m listening to the video I filmed during the concert as I write this. I can’t help but to smile. My son was a member of this band during his junior and senior years of high school. My daughter is a freshman member of this band, this gifted and talented band. I smile because I’m so proud of the preparation my daughter put into preparing for this concert and playing this song. She was delighted to have been given second trumpet music. One day, several weeks before the concert, she admitted to me that she lost her place in class while rehearsing this song and that when she made contact with the band director he knew she’d lost her place too. She didn’t like that feeling so she took the problem to her private music teacher. Together, they tackled it and she learned to play the piece with confidence, without difficulty and without getting lost. The following evening we attended the Guitar Concert at the high school and a few days after that I attended the Christmas concert at our church, where my daughter performs in the Youth Band.

Music by far puts me in the holiday spirit, especially music that my children are playing on their instruments. I don’t need to hear it 24/7 but when it’s on the radio I do enjoy it. I prefer songs related to the birth of Jesus but I do have a few other favorites.

Here’s my list, in the order that I remember.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Sleigh Ride

Silver Bells- Motown Version

Ave Maria-don’t all Italians like this song?

Christmas Night

What Child is This

Away in a Manger

Silent Night-the Stevie Nicks version.

Little Drummer Boy-Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band version

Hark The Herald Angels Sing

Happy Christmas- John Lennon

Joy to the World

Christmas Is the Time to Say I love You-Billy Squire

Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer

Chipmunks Christmas

White Christmas- I’m from Buffalo, NY and I like snow on Christmas!

Christmas All Over Again-Tom Petty

O Come All Ye Faithful- ok I’ll admit it was the Brady Bunch season 1 Episode 12: The Voice of Christmas that got me into this song at a young age. Carol Brady had just miraculously recovered from Laryngitis to sing this song for her church on Christmas morning. Listen to the words though: O Come all ye faithful. Joyful and triumphant. O come ye. O come ye to Bethlehem. Come and behold him, born the King of Angels. O come let us adore him. O come let us adore him. O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. I have no musical ability what so ever and I have to get really drunk to even consider singing Karaoke. This song however makes me just want to stand up and belt out a song during Christmas Eve Mass. So I sing and try not to kill the people in the pew in front of me with my off tune voice.

Here’s my least favorite song of all time: Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney. This song agitates me so much it makes me want to throw myself out of a moving car.

That’s all that nurse has to say for now. Have a great week.

Why Nurses Do What They Do

Several years ago, the week before Christmas, I entered the nurses station at 0700 in the Emergency Department I worked in for morning report. As I did every morning, I scanned the patient tracking screen to look at how many patients we had and if I recognized any familiar names. I spotted a patient who I’d taken care of multiple times and who I enjoyed taking care of. Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to take care of him again. I asked the night shift nurse for report and looked forward to entering his room.

I quickly learned that my patient was not doing well. The doctors suspected that he was now in the terminal phase of his illness. Through the course of the eight hours I took care of him, even after I’d infused over three liters of IV fluid and transfused two units of packed red blood cells, I could not control his pain or keep his blood pressure stable enough to give pain medication and he was beginning to display signs of organ system failure. I spent hours in that room that day not only caring for him, but helping his wife accept what was happening. After I transported him to intensive care and helped him get comfortable in his bed, I put my hand on his, got close to his face, looked him in the eyes and told him to take care. Our eyes were locked for several seconds. He said thank you and wished me well. He died twelve hours after I transported him to intensive care and I still relive looking into his eyes for the last time.

The holiday season isn’t an easy one for nurses. Not because we work long hours, sacrifice and miss our own holiday gatherings to care for others. Because we see how illness impacts people’s lives. To be present to watch patients and their families experience these things on the holidays leaves a long lasting effect on healthcare workers. Why? Because we see the look of desperation in our patient’s eyes where we know they are wondering if this illness is going to pass, be chronic or even life threatening. We observe families trying to be brave for their sick loved ones when we know they are afraid. We hear the screams from the room where the cardiac arrest was just pronounced dead. We see the look of fear as our surgical patients are being wheeled to the operating room with all evidence of the human being they are having been stripped away from them and replaced by a hospital gown, colorful footies and a warm blanket. We walk through the surgical waiting area and see the blank stares of families as they wait for a surgeon to come out and tell them if their loved one has cancer. We try to do everything we can to cheer up our inpatients when they are stuck eating hospital turkey on Christmas day or can’t eat at all because they are too sick. We observe our Dementia patients roaming the halls of the long term care facilities and wonder what they were like before Dementia robbed them of their memory. We thank God profusely that our own loved ones are healthy and waiting for us to come home. Our shifts end and we go home, shower and try to shake it off. Deep down inside, over the years memories similar to the one I shared resurface for all of us.

The brightness and warmth of the summer sun replaces the darkness of December and the months fly by. Six months after my patient passed away, I’m at work one summer afternoon and I hear my name being called from across the ER. I turn around an realize it’s my patient’s wife. She quickly walks up the me, hugs me and tells me she’s doing fine. She’d just been the see a chaplain whom she was seeing monthly. She said she’d come down to the ER to specifically find me and tell me how she was doing and to say thank you. I was so moved by that I rushed right up to one of my good buddy coworkers to tell her. Her response was simple, powerful and true, “This is why we do what we do”.

When Pictures Speak 1000 Words

Yesterday, we drove to the county north of us where there are winding roads, rolling hills and miles of beautiful countryside. We ate a huge brunch a.k.a major chow down at Cracker Barrel and then we were off to chop down our Christmas tree.

My husband and I often walk behind the kids when we are places where a lot of walking is required. The kids walk fast and sometimes we don’t care to walk that fast. We aren’t in as much of a hurry as they are. This picture was taken by me as we were heading towards the entrance to pay for our tree and head home.To me it represents so much more than two kids dragging their Christmas tree down a hill, to tie up to the top of a car, get it into the house and onto the stand.

Them walking together symbolizes the bond they share as siblings. They are friends and they have each others backs. I have no idea what they were talking about when this picture was taken. I don’t want to know. I don’t have to know. My brother and I talked about plenty of things our parents never knew about and still do.

Typical of many long walks we take as a family, the faster they walked, the further they got away from us, illustrating their eventual flee from our nest and the hurry that they are in to do so. When my son was a little boy he’d say, “Mommy, I’m growing up fast”. Tell me about it. The years are flying by so quickly with these kids, my head is spinning. Each new life lesson they learn is a brick in the foundation of the young adults they are becoming.

When our kids were babies, instead of mourning over the phase of life they’d just grown out of, we’d focus on embracing the phase of their lives they’ve just entered. For our son, it’s college life, being supportive of him as he tackles new adult situations and chooses a major for his life’s work. For our daughter it’s all about high school; social groups, activities and earning academic achievements that is going to take her into college.

After I snapped the picture I told my husband that we won’t have many more occasions where all of us will be present to to things like this. He agreed. It is inevitable that some day the kids will come home for Christmas dinner and admire the tree that we’ve chopped down for them. For now though, they are in college and high school and I will spend the next few days reflecting on how perfect yesterday was.

Holiday Series Part 2: The Gators bring it in

Despite the cold winds and low temperatures, the streets were lined with a large crowd. Families and friends bundled up in coats, hats, scarves, mittens and blankets. People standing, sitting in chairs or even sitting on the ground, holding coffee or cocoa to keep warm. People of our community watching each group march by. Finally, Santa’s sleigh arrives and the crowd began to cheer. I didn’t come to see Santa though. The highlight of the parade for me was the last group to march down the street.

I spotted her immediately. The Santa hat was secured to her head, allowing her hair to flow down. Her clear blue eyes were focused forward. She looks so sharp in that navy blue uniform. Her lips were pressed to the mouthpiece of her trumpet. The trumpet, decorated with red and white tinsel was aimed high, demonstrating discipline and confidence. Last year my daughter refused to even go to this parade. She said she needed a break before it was her turn. I think she just didn’t want to walk in my son’s shadow.

Walk in my son’s shadow in this marching band, she has not done. This was his marching band for four years. Yes’s she’s marched with some of his remaining friends but this is her marching band now. This year, this marching band marched in five field show competitions and scored higher than they ever have. As the underdogs, they competed against twelve other bands for the state championship and came in second place putting the band, the band parents, and the band directors on a huge emotional high. The following week they went to Mid Atlantic Regional Championship and became the first band in our county to qualify for the final round. I’d say my daughter has blazed her own trail in this marching band. My son, the awesome big brother that he is, simply showed her the way to the field and stood on the sidelines to cheer her on and enjoy her triumph.

Each year, this parade is the final event of the marching band season. By this time, the band’s competition season has been finished for a few weeks. The kids enjoy decorating their instruments with cheer, playing holiday songs and letting their hair down for one final march of the year. This is the fifth consecutive year my husband and I have had a child march in this parade. For us, it hasn’t gotten old. Standing in a shopping center in the cold with my husband and our band parent friends waiting for our kids to round that corner to complete the parade after Santa passes by always makes me smile.

Holiday Series Take 1

I sat in the straight backed, hard wooden pew of the Cathedral and inhaled deeply through my nose so that I could smell the incense of the Catholic Church. It’s a scent that is familiar to all Catholics and one that I find comforting each time I enter the church. I quietly observed the beauty of this place, my eyes often shifting focus between the cement walls, the large cross in the center of the alter and the lights hanging from the ceiling. I wasn’t here for a Catholic Mass though.

The audience was silent. Applause were forbidden until intermission. I remained in stillness, thankful to be cut off from the outside world for two hours. One by one the songs were played, each performed by different musicians and conductors who added their own magical touch. Chorus, brass, brass, brass, organs, bagpipes, percussion and a popular high school steel drum band. The music entered my ears, made my body tingle, filled my heart and touched my soul. It was so beautiful and spiritually moving it was almost hypnotic.

For years of my adult life, I find myself feeling grumpy during the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Year after year the frustration of shopping, rushing, traffic, retail stores being open on Thanksgiving builds and brings me down because the birth of Jesus Christ in our society is lost to greed. Yes, we exchange Christmas gifts with our family. Yes there was a Santa Claus that came to our house when our kids were little. No, my husband and I do not go over board showering our little darlings with every toy and electronic device their little hearts desire. They get a few things and randomly every few years they get surprised with a Red Ryder Bee Bee Gun type of gift because they are deserving. Before any gift exchange occurs in our home on Christmas morning, the true meaning of Christmas, the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ is observed and reflected upon.

So how do pull myself out of my pre-holiday funks? I look forward to a series of yearly festive rituals that make me feel good and fill me with holiday cheer. It began in December 2012, when my son was a freshman in high school. With his trombone held high in the air, I saw him march in his first holiday parade with his high school marching band as they escorted Santa Claus in. I wasn’t interested in seeing Santa that day, it was the sight of my son marching and playing holiday music that moved me. Miraculously I captured a perfect image of him marching by us. My son is now a young man who is seven inches taller than that kid in the picture and a freshman in college but that image remains with me on the home screen of my phone as a reminder and since that first parade, my list of yearly holiday rituals has grown.

The concert I attended last night, for a second year in a row was The 13th Annual Holiday Brass Concert, and it has officially begun my holiday season rituals. This post is the first in my Holiday Series. It is my hope that my readers who share similar holiday funks will be inspired by this and find their own rituals that give them a reason to exist during the holiday season.

#OptOutside

The sound of passing cars slowly fades as I put one foot in front of the other and settle into my hike. My head moves from side to side as I observe my surroundings. Fallen branches, dry leaves of all colors on the ground, bare trees , the faint smell of pine needles, and the sound of my boots hitting the dirt. I am so thankful to be here. It has been 37 days since I last entered these woods and although I’ve hiked this trail many times, each hike is different. I have to pay more attention to the trail because the leaves cover the path. The woods feel eerie today. The bare trees stand at attention in the absence of a breeze. The river is low and looks more like a pond than a river. The sky is gloomy gray and there’s only 2 more hours of daylight left giving me the feeling of urgency and excitement to hike through these woods before dark.

My children’s Christmas lists are to my left as I type this. This is the same spot they place their lists each year. They are teenagers and no longer believe in Santa. I shop from their list and throw in a few surprise things too. Today is Black Friday. I don’t do malls on Black Friday not ever. I’d end up on the 6PM news with the headline of “Nurse went shit house crazy because the mall was too crowded and people were in her personal space”. With that said, I usually begin my online shopping on Black Friday and do at least 90% of my holiday shopping online.

I’ve had a busy fall and I’m finally starting to feel grounded again. In addition to the person who is making one aspect of my life hell, I attended 11 consecutive weekends of college and high school marching band events for my kids. I have no regrets and I am so very proud of my kids but constant motion without downtime on the weekends wears me out. Last Friday with the help of a committee, I executed a successful major fundraiser for the non profit organization that I volunteer for. Last Saturday my butt found the couch. I’ve managed to maintain my sanity through this long 12 weeks but barely. Today I decided to reclaim myself and my inner peace and strength. REI, the Outdoor Gear retail store that my husband and I frequent, remained closed today so their employees and customers could “Opt Outside” and spend the day outside instead of shopping or working. Instead of a day of online shopping, I went hiking.

Recently, I watched a National Geographic Documentary about when Long Distance Hiker Jennifer Pharr Davis hiked the Appalachian Trail in 46 days in 2011, setting a speed hiker record. What resonated most for me was when she referred to hiking by stating, “There’s something very healing about the physical forward motion” and goes on to say “what makes hiking unique is the cadence and rhythm of moving through nature at two to three miles per hour, which is a pace at which you can really appreciate things. It gives you time and especially space to think, to process the big questions in life”. In a nutshell that is why I hike and will continue to hike.

It is now 9PM. My belly is full and my legs and buns are sore, reminding me of the perfect hike I had today. I’m about to declare it “pajama time” and I just refused to go buy a refrigerator with my husband so it is doubtful I will get to any online Black Friday Shopping this evening. I don’t care. I opted out. I went hiking.

Breaking Free

I am a wild black stallion. I am wild and free. I am full of energy and life and I can not be tamed. I can not be broken. Right now, you have me trapped. You know that I am at your mercy. You speak to me with words that belittle me. You punish me. You are now playing mind games with me. You are cruel. Regardless of what you think, you will not tame me. You will not break me. You will not defeat me. What ever happens, I will use all of my strength to break free of the reins, of the hold that you have on me. I will charge at you and knock you to the ground. In the end, you will be the sorry one.

I can’t go into details but I am in a difficult situation in my personal life. The outcome of this situation is either going to inspire me, require me or force me to make a change in an aspect of my life I’ve known for over half of my life. There’s so many different ways this could go. It’s scary yet exciting. There is another person involved that has made this part of my life hell and left me feeling defeated, helpless and vulnerable. No matter how hard I try not to worry, or how many people reassure me that what I’m worried about won’t happen, I am still afraid. I can only pray that karma will find this person and burn them to the ground.

I will use this situation as an opportunity to allow one cycle of my life to end and another to begin. I will rise above the ashes. It is a change that I’ve been considering for some time. I’m scared of letting go of what I’ve known for over half of my life yet excited about what could be.

This Stadium

The first time I was in this stadium was November 3, 2012. My son was a freshman in high school and a member of his school’s marching band. That day we waited with growing excitement as the results were called, band by band until thundering applause roared through the stadium and my son’s marching band was named state champions. It was a moment of sheer joy and I’ll never forget that day, in that stadium.

My son went on to march four years of high school marching band. He is now a freshman in college and a member of his university’s marching band. This stadium is now his home turf.

My daughter is a freshman in high school and a member of the marching band that my son was in for four years. Today my daughter marched for the first time in this stadium for the state championship, in this stadium. I, as the band’s nurse was one of the parents who escorted the band into the stadium and onto the field. Moments before I left the band to enter the stands, my daughter held out her hand and I gave it a squeeze, blew her a kiss and found my seat. Who appeared in the stands? My son because this is his stadium.

After the competing bands were finished, my son’s marching band played their exhibition performance and absolutely rocked the house. My son had a huge smile on his face because his high school band parents cheered him on. After eight weekends of two kids in marching band, I finally got to watch both of my children perform on the same day. In this stadium. For me this was huge.

Finally it was time for awards. My daughter’s band competed against twelve other bands. Band by band we waited, our hearts beating faster, our bodies tingling, and the tension growing more and more as each band was called. My daughter and her friends held hands. Again the stadium roared with thundering applause as my daughter’s band was announced as second place winners. More moments of shear joy for me.

My kids don’t read this blog, it’s ok. To see them perform on the same day, in the same stadium, my son’s stadium was huge for me. I dedicate this post to them, for their hard work and dedication to music and their schools. They can memorize music, play and march without missing a beat. I have the greatest admiration for them.