Ode to Yes.

Crazy clinicals, divine intervention, and renewed hope

Hey friends,

It’s been a minute. Not that I’ve wanted it to be this long since writing to you, nor have I fallen off the crest of the cosmos, floating away to oblivion. I assure you I have been right here, biding my time, trying to find the moment to corral my thoughts like the crazy little psychos they are and put them on the internet for your reading pleasure.

It has been interesting to say the least, and not having the quick dopamine hits from frequent blurb notifications letting me know someone has liked or commented on a piece I had written has revealed a troubling selfish pride that I hadn’t fully stared in the eyes before. Lest I say, this brief little furlough has been a month filled of humility, surrender, and greatest of all, submission.

Before I continue, I have to say that I really dislike the word busy. I find its often overused and pretentiously bragged about, as if it comes with some hollow reward—like one of those cheap, gold-colored plastic trophies handed out for winning Employee of the Month at your job or something.

(I really wanted to insert a picture of a Dundie Trophy here, but couldn’t find any royalty-free images on Unsplash. Sigh.)

I assure you I have not received my reward (nor do I even want to earn one if this is what it feels like) when I state that my life has been busy. I’ve already written lengthily about much of it here. But, if you’re looking for a little cliff notes summary, on January 2nd, I started the Accelerated Nursing program. This program boasts in its ability to cram all of a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree into a mere 15 months. As you can imagine, it has been quite rigorous. Studying Pathophysiology and Fundamentals of Nursing while managing clinical rotations and soon to be three children has been an eye opening experience.

But I have loved every second. My professors are amazing. I have met so many wonderful people and have made a close friend in the program. I have gotten A’s and high B’s on every exam I’ve taken so far, when just a few years ago I struggled to pass General Biology and 095 Intro to Mathematics.

Well, I also owe a bit to the energy drinks and rapid metabolizing snacks that have gotten me through the stresses of accelerated academia.

During this rowdy season, people have showed up in unexpected ways to bless my family. In fact, as I write this, my wife and I are awaiting a callback from the hospital to go have our third child while our other two children are most likely in a play-induced-craze from being babysat by extended family.

Although life feels especially hectic right now, with multiple exams, clinical rotations, family responsibilities, and the lack of the financial security we had before I started school (and did I mention we are having another baby?) we have seen God’s hand upon our home in palpable ways as we yield our finite understanding to His sovereign will. And peace has abounded.

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Oddly enough, the lesson that I believe God had been trying to teach me all along didn’t hit me until I was at my first clinical on a specialty unit a couple of weeks ago. The unit was tidy and had the lingering smell of “hospital” (you know, that particularly astringent sterile fragrance that only a hospital really ever has) and was quite still when I arrived with six of my other classmates. I began the shift extremely hesitant, afraid of what I would see or have to do to take care of the patients on the floor. Every time my clinical instructor invited me to assist a patient, I felt my body brace and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to care for the patients, rather I was afraid I would mess up, do something wrong, or cause harm. I had the lingering feeling that although I had been thoroughly tested, critiqued, and guided meticulously over the last few weeks, my examiners had made a mistake. Surely I wasn’t actually prepared to do this… right? So for the first few hours, I succumbed to the fear and only did the very least that I could get away with as my eyes remained peeled to the clock that seemed to move at a snail’s pace.

But as I sat at a table eating lunch during the latter half of my shift, something inside of me stirred, and I felt this overwhelming sensation to just concede to my clinical advisor’s instructions, do what she asked, and trust the process.

Trust the wisdom that was given to me by my professors,

Trust the skills that I had practiced so thoroughly in lab,

Trust the sense of calling I had to enter into this vocation,

And trust that God would carry me 100% of the way.

I started saying yes to everything that was asked of me. Even the scary things that I was beyond hesitant about. Before my brain could even render a response, I forced yes out of my mouth. I surprised myself every time.

And you know what? It went great.

By the end of clinical, I had countless encounters to reflect on during our group debrief, but what stood out most was a deep sense of gentle encouragement that seemed to swell in my chest. It felt as though God Himself was reminding me: If I’ve called you to this, do you not trust that I will equip you? All you need to do is yield. The only barrier is you.

I’ve embraced that yes mindset, applying it not only to school but to my life as a whole. None of this makes sense—balancing full-time school, children, a spouse, responsibilities, clinical rotations, endless studying, limited finances, and almost no sleep. Yet, I’ve learned to trust that I am being equipped for what I’ve been called to do.

While others have told me and my wife that they have quite frankly no clue how we are doing this, by the grace of God, we are. We are getting by day-by-day, moment-by-moment, step-by-step. I recognize we are still scaling the mountain, but to have made it this far not by our own understanding but by God’s supernatural intervention is proof that what God calls you to, He will see you through. 100%.

All we need do then, is say yes, Lord. Here am I, Lord. Send me.