Periods.

We are currently sitting on the couch, trying to accomplish homework.
I'm being cranky and said, "Benj, I just feel like I'm on the verge of tears."
He said, "Oh. Are you going to have a period?"
I said, "Probably."
He said, "Oh. Has it started yet?"
Me, "No."
Him, "do you want it to?"

Me:

Somehow, I still find him absolutely darling and perfect.

First comes love, then comes marriage...

Then comes....

Uganda??

(Not a baby, sorry. I wish.)

We are moving to Uganda! For three months!

As I mentioned in this post, husband is stellar and was chosen as a PEAT intern for this coming summer. (Info about that here). Obviously, his heart would love to go back to his mission in Sierra Leone and/or Liberia, but considering the health turmoil there at this time, BYU would never let us. Neither would our moms. 

What I didn't mention was that the BYU College of Nursing also does health internships. Read all about it right here.

So there we were, Benji going abroad and me going abroad. And we thought to ourselves, well that's silly, we should go abroad together.

So I wrote a lot of emails.
And did a lot of research.
And talked to a bunch of people.
And Benji did the same.
And we both prayed.

And they said YES.

Yes you can go to Uganda for three months.
Yes you can be the first BYU nursing student to ever do an independent global health project.
Yes you can plan your own projects, clinical hours, homework assignments, and find a way to meet all the course requirements.
YES YES YES.

And for all of you worried that we are going to get Ebola:

Kampala, Uganda is 98 hours away from Sierra Leone. We be fine.

We will be working with an organization called Days for Girls. The more I read about them, the more excited I become. I'm all about women's and children's health and what a wonderful way to blend these two passions? Also if you are looking for an awesome service project, click that link up there. Perfect activity for Young Women's or Activity Days or a Christmas project. And you know it will actually reach the people there, because I will take it there myself! 

So, am I nervous? Yes. I just put a whole lot of responsibility on myself, hot on the heels of a whole lot of unknowns. 

But I can be brave. If that is one thing that Benji has done for me, its that he helps me be brave. I have done so much outside of my comfort zone since I met him, and I'm grateful. Life has gotten bigger and brighter because he doesn't let me limit myself with fear, anxiety, or uncertainty. 

Or oceans, or countries. 

Scars

Today marks 8 years since my brother was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. Bone cancer.

The older a scar gets, the lighter and less visible it becomes. Some become so faint you forget they are there.

Andrew has scars, some I haven't even seen. He has scars up and down and around his leg, and other places on his body from skin grafts. Once, we sat on his bed and joked about how his scars formed a map. "This one could be the river, this one could be the valley..." because yes, some of his scars are not just lines, but deep craters and rivets.

There are other scars that no one can see, and they mark all of our family. I imagine my mother's heart is an entirely new shape and color from all the wounds that have been bound up watching her children hurt. I know that some of Andrew's inside scars affect how he perceives colors, smells, and the media.

My inside scars throb when I hear the clicking sound of crutches moving down a hallway. I remember they are there when people make light of suffering. My scars feel fresh when I notice the bulge of a port-a-cath inside one of my patients, when I see a nurse being insensitive or when I see a nurse being the kindest she knows how.

But I am proud of my scars. Without them, I might not be who I am today. I might be earning a different degree, have a different job, and care more about superficial things.

Without my scars, I would not have such a deep appreciation for the scars that were kept so that I could never deny that Christ suffered for me. In His perfect, resurrected body, He let those scars remain as a testimony to His love. "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands." Isaiah 49:16.

He suffered beyond my comprehension of suffering so that when Andrew felt alone, broken, and lifeless, someone would know how to help and heal. He kept His scars so that when I was home alone as a fifteen year old with three little sisters while my parents were with Andrew over night, I would feel safe. He kept His scars so that when my mom had to sign papers allowing her children to go into surgery, she would have the strength to do so. When my dad split his time between the office and the hospital, sleeping on a reclining chair for 200 days and passing a kidney stone in his son's cancer treatment room, he was assisted with the divine love of someone who had felt it all before.

Elder Holland once said, "Do not be afraid of scars that may come in defending the truth or fighting for the right, but beware scars that spiritually disfigure, that come to you in activities you should not have undertaken, that befall you in places where you should not have gone. Beware the wounds of any battle in which you have been fighting on the wrong side."

Although we are scarred, our scars make us stronger. Our scars show our strength.

So today, 8 years later, I'm thankful for my scars. I'm thankful for the growth they represent. I'm grateful for my brother, who taught me how to fight and how to hope, and I'm thankful he lived.

And above all, I'm thankful for Jesus Christ and His scars, and that He lives.

Walmart Run

I'm a winner.

The evidence of this statement includes (but is not limited to) the fact that I brought home dinner tonight from the hospital cafeteria (they were serving Thanksgiving dinner and I just wanted something warm and comfy that I didn't cook myself) and that I went to Walmart at 6 a.m. last week. In my socks.

You see, I have clinical at 6:30 at Alta View Hospital in Sandy. Since the hospital is exactly in between my parent's and Benji's parents, we simply go home Thursday nights and sleep over. The issue here is I have to remember all my critical clinical attire: BYU scrubs, BYU name tag, Intermountain student nurse name tag, watch, stethoscope, white shoes. Must be white shoes.

Welllllll since I function on about a minute to minute basis these days....it wasn't until 5:30 a.m. in Benji's parent's basement that I realized I forgot my white shoes. All I brought were my flip flops. You just can't wear flip flops to a MRSA-ridden, high needle-stick potential, professional hospital. Ya just can't.

So I grabbed Benji's car keys and felt a little robber-ish as I spun away from his house with the plan to get home to Emily and steal a pair of her shoes.

While driving I began calculating: 15 minutes to my house. 15 minutes to creep my whole family out as I break into the house and try to find some decent shoes. 15 minutes back to Benji's house. Wake up Benji. Eat breakfast. Drive to hospital. Dang it.

And then I remembered. The commercials of my childhood, that grinning bouncing yellow circle knocking down prices that was replaced with a shining star logo of hope: Wal Mart. Siri. Please give me directions to the closest Wal Mart. Pronto.

(kidding I don't have Siri.)

So I drove to the Wal Mart that was only 7 minutes away, in my socks and BYU scrubs, parked, ran across the parking lot, AND THE DOORS WERE LOCKED. Great. Now I have even less time and still no shoes.

So I returned to the car, dreaming of the invention of a 24 hour Payless, when I saw a blue vest-clad Wal Mart employee walking towards the doors. I'm sure I scared him to death when I veered over to him and rolled down my window, asking when the walmart opened. "It's a 24 hour Wal Mart", he said "but only one door is open." I grinned and cackled and spun around, re-parked, and re-sprinted across the parking lot in my socks.

I would pay big money for the Wal Mart surveillance video of that morning, as a blue and white scrubbed up girl wearing socks ran into the store, grabbed the first pair of white shoes off the rack, put them on, sprinted back to the self check out, swiped the price tag and the credit card and ran back out the door.

The good news is, I made it to clinical on time. And Benji got his car back. And now I have two pairs of white shoes.

source

Good Things to Come

Monday, I took my first test of the semester. I walked in totally confident. I understood the content in class, studied all the material, not to mention I see the situations in real life at work all the time. (Hint: objects in hospital are much different than objects in class.)

I walked out totally, utterly deflated. Thoughts of I will never pass the NCLEX and Worst nurse ever floated around in my head as tears rolled down my cheeks.

Benji came home and I cried to him and just felt stuck. There really wasn't much more I could have done to prepare, so I already felt doomed for the rest of the semester.

He told me to pick a number between 1 and 10. Then he told me to pick a number between 2 and 8.
Coincidentally, we sang Dearest Children, God is Near You Hymn #96 for family home evening. The lyrics were perfect and calmed my soul.

Then, Benji pulled up this Mormon Message which we had both seen before, but was nonetheless very opportune. After it was over he hugged me and helped me picture a life years ahead of us, when I will be a full blown nurse and we will sit down to dinner with all of our little kids I can't hardly wait to meet. He's a winner, I tell ya.

SO MUCH of a winner that he scored an internship. In Africa. For three months. ALL summer. Please feel free to forward me every story of every pioneer wife who sent her husband on a mission. They had no email and often no idea when the mission would end, so I'm already way better off than them. But still. 

Anywho. If you have or haven't seen that Mormon Message before, just go watch it. Its actually the message that got me through the years of striving to even get in to nursing school. Whatever your life looks like right now, have hope. Fresh courage take. There are always good things to come.

Be Real

Sunday was Stake Conference. Actually, regional stake conference. One of those where Apostles come and speak and it is broadcast all over. I prayed all week that I would be receptive to the messages, but I didn't really have anything specific on my mind, no pressing questions, just an open heart.

I worked half of a shift-6 hours-then rushed home and changed and walked to the church with Benji. (I love sitting next to that guy in church. He sings so pretty.) We sat down to listen, and I kind of had a "ho hum" attitude. Lovely little day.

Then Elder Richard G. Scott stood up. He said, "I wish I could have a personal interview with each of you. We could weep and laugh and talk about everything in your life. Of course, that is impossible for me. But there is One who it is not impossible for..." and I just started to cry. I'm a visual person, and Elder Scott painted this picture of me sitting down with Heavenly Father just to talk, to laugh, to cry. I realized that I often pray with a mask on. For some reason, I feel like I can't just say it like it is. "So. School and work and life are really hard right now." I always feel like I have to put on my brave face when I'm praying: "Thank thee for all the things that I really don't like." Not that gratitude isn't important, (in fact, Elder Scott discussed gratitude later in his talk) but what I needed to remember was to be real. 

God is literally my Father. 

and yours.

I call my mom all the time and spill my whole soul to her. I email my dad with questions often. When Benj and I go home on the weekends, we all sit and talk and I tell them everything. I should be at least as comfortable with the Father of my very soul as I am with my earthly parents.

So in the two days since I heard that talk, I've been striving to be real. When I went home from stake conference, I knelt and prayed. It started something like this: Dear Heavenly Father. I just want a baby so bad. And nursing school is way hard. And I'm tired. And I can't find time for all the things I'm "supposed" to do. And I'm trying to pray better..."

And without my brave face on, I felt very, very free.

Summertime and School and Things.

So. Our Summer was perfect. Choose one of the sentences below to describe it:

A. We should never have bought groceries, because they always expired while we were away.
B. If spontaneity is the food of love, go somewhere unexpected right now.
C. The only thing cars are good for is to pay money to get them fixed.
D. Getting married was the best idea we ever had.
E. It's raining Thank You notes, alleluia!


We went to Costa Rica, Mexico, Idaho (twice), camping in Mona, and home to Sandy more times than we can count. We fixed my car twice (or was it three times?) and I am STILL working on thank-you notes from our bridal showers and wedding (I'm so sorry....). Benji learned to put up with my new-fangled ideas about food. We opened a bank account. We organized all of our stuffs. We went to the Aquarium. I refrained from blogging. Sometimes we went to work. We bought a rug. Benji smashed a lot of spiders in our bathroom. We read scriptures every night. Benji made funny voices while reading scriptures every night. We both got callings in our Ward. I hung pictures on the walls. We went to movies.

And then, like the feeling you get on December 26th, school started. And for probably the first time in my life, I did NOT want to go back to school. I didn't want to buy books. I didn't want to label notebooks. I didn't even want to pull my BYU School of Nursing scrubs out of the closet. To all this Benji replied, "Oh no. I'm rubbing off on you."

Turns out, my fears had good reason. School has been in session a total of 4 days and I've already been hugged by a professor because I was teary, lost my student nurse name badge, AND turned in an assignment late. Its a weird feeling to know that I will be a good nurse, but to feel totally inadequate at nursing school. 

Side note: as I am typing this, Benji is across the room and just spontaneously began singing a made up song that goes like this: "I love my wife! So much! Even if she's not looking at me right now!" Yes. This is normal. I love it.

Anyway. I am trying to do the whole "one day at a time" thing, but I feel like a goldfish that was so excited it leaped out of its bowl and landed on the carpet. Orange, rough, scraggly carpet from the 70s. And now I'm gulping for air with one eye wide open.

Benji, on the other hand, is doing swimmingly. He likes his international/refugee/save the public health classes. He's halfway through finding a solution to Ebola. Not really, but maybe someday. (His whole mission was closed because of the epidemic. Please pray for West Africa.)

The scripture that is currently carrying me through my stress and worries is this, Alma 14:28

 28 And Alma and Amulek came forth out of the prison, and they were not hurt; for the Lord had granted unto them power, according to their faith which was in Christ. And they straightway came forth out of the prison; and they were loosed from theirbands; and the prison had fallen to the earth, and every soul within the walls thereof, save it were Alma and Amulek, was slain; and they straightway came forth into the city.

Not that nursing school is a prison. Or that I want the SWKT to fall to the earth and kill everyone except me. (Although, that would be good emergency response practice.) But I am channeling my faith to give me power to accomplish school, work, and joy. And I have already felt the power this verse speaks of, helping me to feel calm. 

And thats about it. If you need me, I will be reading about lung function and avoiding ALS ice bucket challenge requests. And laughing at Benji.

Comfy Pants, Sewing Kits, and God.

One of the first things I learned about Benji was his motivation to be comfy. A frequently heard phrase is "I just want to get in my comfy clothes...." We once spent thirty minutes in a store trying on various "comfy pants" to replace the original "comfy pants" which were six years old and needed to retire.

Well, the new comfy pants are only 8 months old, but were found in disrepair so as a good little house wife I began searching for my sewing/mending kit.

Sidenote: we are a couple with "stuff." We've had such a fun summer filled with so many get-aways that everything that wasn't immediately needed or wouldn't fit in the kitchen was crammed in our spare bedroom and has yet to be sorted through.

BUT. I had seen the sewing kit a few days ago. When I saw it I said to myself, ah excellent, now I can mend the comfy pants. But tonight when I had time to sit down and mend those comfy pants, I couldn't find the sewing kit anywhere. After 20 minutes, Husband asked, "Did you pray?"

"Yeah, well, kinda....I just feel like this is a dumb little thing and not important enough to pray about."
my sweet, faithful, wise husband replied, "Bethie. Everything is important to Him."

"Okay," I said. I kneeled down and began my prayer: "Dear Father in Heaven, I just really want to fix these comfy pants for Benji...." and that's as far as I got. Right then, in my mind's eye, I saw where the sewing kit was. I popped up from my prayer, walked across the room and pulled the kit out of a bag. Husband started grinning and wrapped me up and hugged me and said "I witnessed that!"

So tonight, my faith was increased over something small and insignificant like a sewing kit and comfy pants. Our apartment isn't very big and I had searched it thoroughly, but my loving Father in Heaven took the opportunity to remind me that He is real. He is a living, loving God. He hears all of our prayers, from the bitter heartache driven ones to the very simple ones. He answers all of our prayers. Sometimes so quick that we don't even have time to say amen, and sometimes the answer comes in the waiting. I know that He is my Father.

3 Nephi 13:8 ...for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of before ye ask him. 

Word vomit

I've been in this place where I have so much to say and also nothing to say at the same time. I realized that no one wants to read a recurring post of "I am so beyond happy. LITERAL bliss and joy over here. I love everyone and everything." So I decided I would take the summer off and do one big recap before school starts.

But. Tonight I am at work. And the thoughts and words are swirling. So I'm blogging from my iPad that Husband bought for me. (He said I was the "Apple" of his eye. Darling. Cheesy. Perfect.)

We went to Mexico a month ago. It was lovely. However, I walked away more humbled than vacationed. Humbled by the man and his family who spend weeks sleeping on the beach and selling their wares and services to the Americans playing in the ocean. Humbled by the Fruit Man who drives an old truck around filled with mangoes, taquitos, fresh squeezed juice, tortillas. His shirt flapped and I could see a bulging mass around his belly button. From a hernia or malnutrition, I don't know. Humbled by the homeless man with matted hair eating out of the garbage can when I was hunting for souvenirs. 

One night on our trip Benji listened so patiently as I cried over all these people and how hard they work for so little. He reminded me, "Bethie, they are happy." And then I cried harder. Because the truth is: I really struggle with my job. I only have to work twice a week in an air conditioned building with rights and protections and benefits and I dread it. 

When I worked at Primary Children's, there were days I was tired or wanted to be at an event and didn't want to work. But in general, I loved work. I enjoyed it. I looked forward to it. I took pride in it. And then I left it to take something closer to BYU because my car can't handle the long drive and it wasn't practical and really, I am so blessed to have a local job and it's only part time and it fits into my crazy nursing school life. 

Tonight is my last night shift for the foreseen future. I'm switching to days. We are hoping a more normal schedule and coming home at the same time as Benji instead of having opposite schedules will help. But my new schedule will take me every other Sunday. I hate missing church. 

I know. I wanted to be a nurse. I chose this sort of life. And really truly I'm grateful for the income that provides for our wants and our needs. I wish there were another option for this nursing student with a tight schedule. 

So I'm sitting here at 3:08 in the hospital with my iPad trying to remember the Fruit Man and the beach family and their happiness in their labor, and the hungry homeless man who has so little. And hoping and dreaming of working in pediatrics again. And trying to have an eternal perspective. 

And Then He Made Me His Wife

                                     

My baby sister with Benji's baby sister

I developed a sort of reputation for catching bouquets in my time....it started in 2008 and amazingly I saved all of them. I wanted them on display as a sort of joke to myself. No more bouquet catching for me. 

Love my dad with all my heart.

The man who interviewed me for my baptism when I was 8. He is so dear to me.

All photo credit to the lovely Tabitha at Tabulous Photography. View more of our wedding photos here

The Pure Life

We honeymooned in Costa Rica. It was perfect. I shall let the photos speak for themselves.

 Our Bungalow

 The view from our Bungalow

 How Benji feels about white water rafting.

 How I feel about white water rafting.