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.