New Job

I recently started a new job in a rehab center/nursing home facility. I love my job. Obviously there are days that I feel like will never end and there are people I would just as soon not work with some days (for example the naked 300+ pound man I walked in on the other day. Not great), but all in all, work is wonderful.

There is something magic about watching people get stronger, watching their face when the turn and see how far they walked for the first time in weeks or longer. I love the feeling of watching someone stand up when they thought they couldn't, or the look of surprise when they were able to safely transition from their chair to their bed without a mechanical lift. Empowerment is a majestic virtue.

I also find that I enjoy the feeling that, to my surprise, more often than not I do know what I'm doing. Although I still feel like some days I have to make it up as I go along, for the most part I feel capable and in control. I have had lots of training, and if I stay smart and don't hurt myself I can enjoy this profession for many years to come.

Best of all though, I love working with the elderly population. For them, words like "hard work", "honor", and "independence" mean something that perhaps my own generation has not yet grasped. To listen to their experiences and to learn from their examples is a valuable training by itself, but to watch them work through constant pain and aches that I cannot even begin to conceptualize or understand is inspiring. I can be a better person. I can work harder, run longer, figure out more of my own problems, and appreciate better the good things in my life because the people I am suppose to be helping are teaching me to do so. What an amazing profession!

Birthdays

I am watching the clock as I write this late post and the last few minutes of my 26th year draw to a close. It has been a great year, really. I finally graduated from school, I got my first real person job, I learned to crochet and rock climb (though I haven't yet learned to do the two simultaneously) and I have at long last settled into a ward where I can stay for more than a few weeks--they even gave me a calling. And now, in a few hours, I will officially be 27 years old.

I'm not sure when it is that I am suppose to start feeling like I am getting old. When we are kids we delight in squealing out our age complete with stubby finger visuals to anyone who will ask us and many who don't (though of course they want to know, we reason). When we hit middle school and high school we suddenly want to act and be perceived as older than we really are and we dress, speak, act, and even think to that end. When is it then, that a woman is suppose to give the demure reply of, "I'd rather not say" when asked her age? I am short for my age, short in general really, so sometimes I surprise people whose vision isn't strong enough to see the budding bags under my eyes when I tell them my age. 27. It really isn't all that old, and I honestly don't feel that old. I still have lots to accomplish and I still feel a little like my child-self spouting pudgy fingers and half-baked sentences to anyone foolish enough to listen.

What will this year bring? I am different now at 26 than I was at 25. I am older--the high school dream finally reached I feel and even act a little older and (dare I say it?) maybe even a little more mature. How will I feel at the end of 27? Who will I be? Perhaps that is why we exchange gifts on birthdays--to help us to remember that the greatest gift we get--the greatest present if you will excuse my pun-- is our very own present-a reality we can unwrap and mold and uncover for a whole year.

I devote the last 10 minutes of my 26th year to gratitude. Gratitude to my Heavenly Father who gave me this year and the opportunities in it, gratitude to my parents who supported and sustained me through the various trials that were sent my way, gratitude to the army of family members and friends who took me in as I scoured the country like a migrant worker carrying everything I own in the back of my little car. I am grateful to the people I met for letting me into their lives and hearts, for their ability to "warm and clothe and feed" their guest, and sometimes go so far as to "lay them on their couch to rest" I am grateful to my car who made the journey with me and didn't break down once. I am grateful for my family members as they continue to support me, house me, feed me, and even have a rather lavish party planned for tomorrow--the most pomp and circumstance my birthday has seen in years. I am grateful most of all to my Savior. For His gift to me in not only the ability to be forgiven for the countless stupid and selfish decisions I make but for His grace which allows me to try and become what I long to be and am not--an instrument in His hands, doing His work in His way.

I pray 27 might be as wonderful as 26. Bring on the ribbons--I'm about to unwrap another year.