This summer I met a lovely African-American woman in the home of a mutual friend. We shared a bit of our backgrounds. She made a fortune gambling. I made a B+ in Angelology (I am not kidding, I actually took that class). She grew up surrounded by gangs, I grew up surrounded by Starbucks. We both loved Jesus. We had a delightful conversation, alternating speaking and listening, having almost nothing but the biggest things in common. At one point, I started sharing my plans and ideas for my future. She must have noted me being on edge or something, because she held her hand up and gave me the following sermonette: (And any of my friends, please feel free to correct my Eubonics. I have done my best.) “Listen girl. You know Six Flags?” I nodded. “Well, I love Six Flags, but e’ry time I go, I notice sumpin. When black people ride the roller coasters, We be all coverin’ our heads, closin’ our eyes, scrunched up in the seat, holdin’ on to the roller coaster liken we’s about to fall out. But when dem white people ride roller coasters, dey be wavin’ their hands in the hair, liftin up outa dey seats, laughin’ and screamin’. You know girl, don’t try to figure it all out now. When you’re goin through life, don’t be like them black people on the roller coaster. Wave your hands up in the air, and have yo’self a good time.”
I laughed. I laughed hard, and have remembered this advice often when I get stuck or flustered or sure that I have cancer or am missing out on some central drumbeat that everyone else is hearing. Sometimes in this mode I think about how I should have been a nurse, or I should still try to be one. This is not a good idea. I do not like blood or needles, I hate science and I am not very detail oriented. Charts stress me out. But I did a project on Florence Nightingale when I was in elementary school, and my mom was a nurse, and nurses seem to always be contributing to society in a way that I can’t ever attain. I don’t want to actually do any of the work a nurse does. I just want the satisfaction of knowing that I am one. Does this make sense? Though I have long ago left behind the bad habit of following through on these whims with hours of googling nursing schools, I still sigh every once in awhile when my imagination takes me from whatever meaningless thing I am doing to a white hat with a red cross, nursing some soldiers back to health (note the Florence influence).
But I am learning that your twenties (or at least, mine) have and will continue to be a time of listening. Of trying things and seeing if they work, of learning discipline and theology and figuring out who I am, and who God is. And of making real, real decisions. The end goal is not to get to a career, though that might happen. The goal is to walk each day with Jesus. It is also to become more like Jesus, and understand more how I am built to worship Him. Well, this fall has been a beautiful one of gold leaves and pumpkins that actually fit the landscape (they grow on a farm about 100 meters away, and some in our garden), and of burning dinner and not burning some dinners and laughing at myself and crying. A lot. And I have also made some pretty big decisions. So here I go! I am daringly poking my head out from the roller coaster car, waving my hands in the air and whooping like the white girl I am. No nursing schools in the future, but lots and lots of trials and errors, I am sure.
6 comments:
Do this whole nursing school thing with me. I'll be able to actually see a friend. Studying for anatomy and physiology consumes so much time. =( 4 more weeks though! I love reading your blog and I miss you!
When you said your twenties should be a time of listening, learning, discipline and theology and figuring out who you are and who God is...
...well, dearest Abby, I'm learning that my forties are much the same. And maybe I'll make real, real decisions and even find a career, too. The goal is to walk each day with Jesus.
In my experience, those things haven't changed.
But, much like you, I feel like I should be waving my hands in the air and having a better time with all this, that's for sure.
Excellent entry, friend. I'm linking to it.
Hey Abby, I don't really know you well, but I know Keila and Brent who directed me to your blog. First off, you are a beautiful writer and thinker. Secondly, maybe everytime you write or speak a healing word, you become a nurse? Loved the lady you met and her advice to embrace the ride with your hands in the air!
Like brother Brent said, "dearest Abby..."
How true your words about walking each day with Jesus. We love you and we're praying for you. Maybe we can scream and laugh together like white people on roller coasters some day.
Oh dear Abby! You are such a lovely writer and thinker and imaginer! I am so very glad that you are not a nurse; that you have time and energy to be creative. I am very proud of you for laughing at yourself and am inspired by your aim of throwing your hands in the air. Ha! I am going to make that my goal today, too. :)
Love you, friend.
p.s. I had the VERY same struggle with nursing school. I came back to it over and over... for the same reasons -- seemed like a surefire way to contribute -- a well-beaten path that I could follow without too much struggle. I hate needles and blood, too. Don't regret that decision at all this side of thirty!!
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