Carrots

Her frail, shrunken body looked so small in the wheelchair. A blue sweater lay across her hunched spine. Her frizzy red hair was peppered with white and grey, and her skin was decorated in spots of sun and age. Only speaking when spoken to, only eating when prompted, I sat beside her in my scrubs, urging her onward. Very slowly, deliberately, she moved the metal fork with her fingers and tried to skewer the food on her plate. The first poke proved futile. The second and third also resulted in failure. In her sunken eyes I could see slight frustration, armed with determination. On the fourth try, the fork punctured the carrot. In a slow and slightly shaky movement that seemed to last for eternity, she guided the fork up to her mouth. It seemed as though every centimeter required great energy and focus. With the fork turned sideways, the carrot seemed to be barely hanging on to the metal utensil. I wanted her to feel accomplished and to feed herself. So instead of helping her, I watched with my breath held and wished that all the forces in the world would keep the carrot from a shameful death by plummeting into the depths of the napkin below. Twenty seconds later the carrot had successfully arrived in her mouth. So much pride welled up in me, for this woman I hardly knew. I would have given her a bear hug if her petite frame could have handled the pressure. Instead I kissed her on the forehead, and said in a voice loud enough for her nearly deaf ears to hear me: “Good job! I knew you could do it!” After a few seconds to process, she slowly turned her head my direction. Her blue eyes that were usually clouded over, seemed, only for a moment, to light up as she smiled and mumbled “Thank you.” My heart overflowed.

I never would have thought that a small meal could be filled with so many emotions and so much love. Never before have I been so grateful to a carrot. Never before have I had experiences quite like these. These are the moments I cherish.

Discomfort

Due to major changes and shifts in my life the past 3 months, I have been terribly inconsistent with blogging. I left the incredible Seattle and have moved back to my beloved Idaho. My frantic searching to find a job has moved writing down to the bottom of my priorities list. (but praise God I now have a job!)

With all these changes I have felt in a constant state of upheaval. I have been frustrated with God for allowing so much change at once. College life had finally settled into a comfortable routine, I had made some amazing friends, and had fallen in love with Seattle. I had a good idea of how the next three or four years would come to pass.

I never would have admitted it then, but now I can see that I became complacent. I have always been one to find the road of least friction. Conflict and I do not get along well. As a result my impulse is to avoid anything uncomfortable. I had fallen into a routine - found my niche - and wasn't too worried about life. But by avoiding conflict and discomfort, I also bypassed many opportunities to grow. Settling for what I felt was satisfactory didn't allow for God's best.

So here I find myself, back in Idaho, away from the friends I had made, away from my comfort, yanked out of my "plan". I can't help but feel that all this was necessary to shake me a little, and remind me once again that I am not the one in control of my life.

It's been a difficult season of life, and I hesitate to think that it will ever become as easy and carefree as it once was. But life is not about ease, and it is not about comfort. Life is about growing, learning, and becoming. So instead of asking for security or serenity, I'm working on asking for grace - to grow from my discomfort. Learn from my failure. And become less of what I want, and more of what He wants.