I was reading today one of my nursing theory books
for a class. It asked me to “think about the reasons you went into nursing in
the first place; bring your nursing practice into focus.”
I have to admit that when I think about the real
reason I went into nursing, I feel a sense of shame. I’m not really sure it is an admiral reason.
I remember being 10 or 11 at church camp and feeling called to be a missionary.
But I was also drawn to other interests at the age of 13 when I began working at the zoo. I
loved animals and caring for animals. I don’t really know why, but it
fascinated me, and still does, though maybe not to the extreme that it did
then. By the age of 15 I was a sort of celebrity at the zoo, one of the first
volunteers during that era. I was even interviewed by the local newspaper. Soon
everyone began taking notice of me, and the shy little girl that I was became
confident and articulate. I could actually speak in public and not be afraid of
crowds, getting excited to talk about what I was now passionate about. It
seemed that everyone was proud of me and spoke well of me. I enjoyed being in
everyone’s favor.
On several occasions I was asked to bring an animal
to church and talk to the Jr. church group, sort of like a “show and tell”, a
junior Joan Embrey in the making – she was, after all, the epitome of what I
aspired to be. I even bought a book about her life. I was so engrossed in my
fascination with the animal kingdom, that I took meticulous notes on the
subject of anything in the natural world, catalogeuing information for my own
personal enjoyment.
One day at church, my mother was sharing with one of
her friends how much I loved working with animals and that I wanted to become a
Veterinarian. I was within earshot, and my mom’s friend made a side comment to
my mother, saying, “It’s too bad she doesn’t care the same way about people.”
That one statement hit me hard. Suddenly I was made to feel that
I was doing something inferior, and the guilt of it pierced me like a knife. I
remembered my commitment to being a missionary a few years earlier, and felt
compelled to change my plans to do something that appeared to others to be more pleasing to God. It
was then that I decided to become a missionary nurse.
As an introvert by nature, I found nursing a
challenging profession, in that I had to relate to people on a level that I was
unaccustomed to. I learned to smile, be kind, and show caring to patients. It was not in my comfort zone, yet I quickly
adapted because I knew that the medical side of nursing thrilled me. At one
point I even considered being a doctor, but one individual crossed my path who
told me I was not cut out for it. I don’t know how he knew that, and I resented
him for saying it, but looking back, I think he may have been right – at least
in the context of working in the US.
Africa became the place I could practice “medicine”
under the umbrella of nursing, and through the years there of honing my skill,
I believe God put opportunities in my path that enabled me to truly learn to care for people.
Paradoxically, Africa is also where I became the
most compassion fatigued. It was in Africa that I also realized that being a
nurse, and for the matter, being a missionary, had the potential to become for me an idol. I came to the awareness that perhaps I wasn’t
doing it for the right reasons. I began to wonder if I was doing all of this to
make people proud of me, when deep inside of me I struggled with doing it. I felt sometimes a deep sense of compassion
for people, but other times didn’t want to have anything to do with people, and
felt like crawling up into my corner to hide. I think it had a lot to do with setting
boundaries so as not to become overwhelmed with the physical needs around me, but it was impossible to
walk away from and ignore the never-ending stream of needy people at my
doorstep.
It was also in Africa that I realized that, by
walking away from my dreams of being a veterinarian or a zoo keeper, I lost a
part of myself. Now in the Christian
sense, we are taught to do this, giving our lives over to God’s will and His
plans and purposes. I now believe that that does not mean that we SHOULDN’T do
what we have a special interest or giftedness in just because we enjoy it. It
means that we give THAT to God, and He can use it for His glory. I imagine that if I had seen things from that
perspective then, I could have been used by Him in that context as well. God
needs people who are passionate about His Kingdom in all walks of life. But I
chose a different path which, from the outside looked more noble and pleasing
to God, but may not have been so on the inside. I still didn't have entirely pure motives.
But God doesn’t waste anything. I look back and see that God put that
interest in me for a reason. That was a part of who He was trying to make me,
the unique self that I needed to become.
I’m thankful that, in spite of my confused reasoning, God still used me
to do amazing things in Africa, things I could never have done by myself. In other words, He got the glory anyway, in
spite of myself. I know that I fell short. I also realized that being a
missionary is not something that is necessarily more pleasing to God than anything else in and of itself. Being faithful to him through whatever life throws our way is the most pleasing thing, as well as being
what God intended me to be, and my journey
in life is in the FINDING of myself within the context of His artistry within
me, whether that is as a vet, or as a missionary. God is going to keep teaching
us, whatever path we take. Both paths can potentially be within the umbrella of
His will, as both paths can potentially be outside of His will. It all depends
on the loyalties of our heart.
Looking back, I can see how God used my
insecurities, and many other things to hone my thinking and keep it focused on
him. I now know how important it is to truly care for a patient the way they
need to be cared for, and treat them with the love and caring Christ would if
He were standing beside them instead of me. As much as I hated the idea of
going back to work once we returned to the US, I realized that if I have to
work, then I should be challenged to live out my convictions daily rather than
state them when convenient. It makes me
put aside my selfish self and give of myself daily, not just when I feel like
it. I know what it feels like to be the
patient, and to be the one not cared for well by a nurse. I can now treat others the way I would want
to be treated, with real compassion, preserving their dignity, and helping them
achieve a restored sense of well-being. More than that, God has enabled me SEE
people as He sees them, not just the needy poor in Africa, but every person as
a dearly loved child of God whom He desperately desires to have by His side one
day in eternity. Each one of us is His artistry, a beautifully dyed and woven
thread of His tapestry, each one speaking their lives as a reflection of
Himself if they choose to allow Him to do so.
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