Just Another Day

As you can tell by my lack of a post on Chrsitmas Day, life at the clinic isn't super exciting, even if it's Christmas. Thanks to all the family gatherings the day was a slow one, giving me enough time to watch the Sound of Music. The night was a different story. A lot of women came in stating contractions, hoping to have their baby before the day was out. But alas, there was only one birth on Christmas day.

But, even with being far away from home, I did get a Christmas package! And guess what it was!
That's right, I got socks! Just what I had wanted...no really, it's true.

The thing is, these days I use socks every day. Working in a clinic, closed toed shoes are mandatory, so socks are kind of a necessity. Now, those of you who know me, might know that brown is one of my favourite colours to wear (it comes right behind blue). This means that my brown socks having been getting a workout. It turns out that the soles of my brown socks have been running a little thin as of late, and the day I got those beautiful new brown socks from my dear mother, I took of my shoes at the end of the day to discover that my old socks had finally worn right through.
Between the intuition of a mother and the all-seeing eyes of God, the timing was impeccable!

Joy Comes in the Morning

I was on shift yesterday. After a long day of appointments, the night saw us in the clinic, not sleeping like normal people, but working. 

During the night mother after mother came, stating contractions, stating that her water had broken, needing a room because the baby was coming NOW. It was a night of births, only 4, but for a house that has only three rooms, that's a lot. It was a night of endless laundry and cleaning, a night of setting up this room, taking that one down, sending that mother home to rest and relax, welcoming this baby into the world, and helping the other mom get more comfortable. It was a night of checking vitals every hour, listening to heart tones, monitoring contractions, and grabbing bites of the cake left on the counter. It was a night of hard work, for both us and the moms. It was a night of disappointment for those we had to transfer to the hospital, and a night of joy for those families who could finally hold their child, their nephew, their sister in their arms. It was a long night. It was a sleepless night. And as the rays of sunrise flamed across the sky and the new troops started coming in to take over, it proved to me once again that joy does come in the morning. 

General News

I just realized that I haven't been writing for a whole week now. Since I don't have anything of particular importance to share, I think I'll just share with you what my week has been like...if I can remember it all.

If the week starts on Sunday, then I started off my week with work. I got to the clinic a 7:30 in the morning, and started shift at 8. Sundays are busy days, as they are the days that everyone else has off. I spent the day doing prenatal appointments, talking with the moms-to-be, listening to their concerns and discomforts, and giving recommendations about things that four months ago I had never even heard about. I also got to do some postpartum appointments, looking at the mom's general health and recuperation, weighing, watching, and listening to the baby, and answering any questions or concerns.
I can't remember if the night was busy or not, so I'm assuming I spent most of it sleeping.

Monday morning I got off work at 8 in the morning, and stayed at the school to finish up some homework and tally up numbers. I had class in the afternoon; then made my way up to the top of a hill to watch the sunset before heading home and dropping into bed.

Tuesday morning I woke up early to do my laundry and had it all hanging on the line before I headed off to my end of quarter evaluation with the academic director. The end result: I'm still in the program! I stayed over at the clinic helping answer phones until lunch, when I biked home to take care of my laundry. Then I peddled back to the school for birth talk class in the afternoon (a class where we debrief births that we've been a part of). In the evening I again went to watch the sunset before racing home to do some cleaning and baking before our potluck/party started. I enjoyed talking to the people that came, and reading stories to the kids that were running around. Then I excused myself so I could be in bed by ten.

Wednesday I was back at the clinic by 7 in the morning. I spent all day hopping from appointment to appointment. The older students had class in the morning, so that left only us new students in the clinic. Needless to say, we had a busy morning, and after lunch was about the same. After cleaning the clinic together in the evening, I was in bed long enough to fall asleep when the doorbell rang. I took care of the client and admitted her before passing her vital rounds off the the student in charge. Then I went back to bed for a couple more hours before getting up again to check out and admit another young lady.

Thursday: Since I was up already, I mixed together a batch of schnetke for a snack. I had just gotten them out of the oven when 'birth team' was called. Since I was doc, I ran into the room (it was 7:30am by this time) to write down everything necessary, and was out of the room by 8:00am just in time to get off shift and hand over to the new troops. I stuck around a bit more to help fill out the postpartum paper work, then went home to change and eat. On my way home, there was a truck that was moving a bed. Right before we passed, the wind picked up the mattress and dropped it down onto the street. The look on the drivers face was priceless!  I was back to the school an hour later to help decorate for a retirement party we'll be having tomorrow. I helped out until class time, and after class I had some time to breathe as I walked to church, watching the sun set, and enjoying the fresh air. Waiting for music practice to start, I got to have a long chat with my parents. It was so nice to catch up with them.

Today, Friday, I went to a solstice gathering at the school in the morning, just to see what it was like...and to eat the free breakfast! I stopped in at a friends house, and we chatted and relaxed over a cup of tea before I moved on to the library to catch up a bit on emails, do some homework, and write this blog. :)

Now it is time for me to go home and go to bed, because tomorrow is another day on the job.

Writing it all out makes me see that there is a lot that I do in a week, but I am thankful to God that I love my job, and I love my life. What a blessing it is.

Homelessness

I was at the clinic last night, and since there was a momentary lull in the action between the day's appointments and whatever the night had in store for us, I decided to grab some down time while I could. My duty for the night would be to answer all phone calls and take care of all women who knocked on our door in labour, so I was heading to the front room to be close to the door when I heard it. At first I mistook it for someone swaying back and forth on the creaky floor upstairs, but then I realized what it was. Snoring. 

Now I'm the type of person who can sleep through anything if I have to (which is terrible when I'm supposed to be answering the door), but I had never heard such a racket in the clinic before and wondered who it could be. There was no one in the room beside mine, and the noise wasn't coming from upstairs. Looking around for other possibilities I noticed the windows. Creeping over to the nearest one, I peered through the slats into the night outside. It took my eyes a couple of seconds to adjust, but when they did they saw a street empty except for one car meandering around the block, they saw the new Christmas decorations across the way, and looking down, they saw a pair of legs sprawled across the bench on the front porch. 

I admit. That wasn't exactly what I was expecting to see, but then again, I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see. Getting the first-up midwife, I watched as she politely but firmly woke up the two men and made it clear that they were not welcome on the porch. Back inside, I watched through the slats as the men stumbled down the road. And as I watched, I wondered where they would end up spending the night and if there was anything I could have done for them. 

How do I show Jesus' love to the least of these?

The Library

I love libraries. They are full of information and adventures, crannies and nooks to hide in while reading or studying, and they have internet access...free internet access. 

The main library in El Paso is a mere 15 blocks from my place, so I've made a habit of spending a couple of hours a month there. While these hours are usually around the time that a research project is due, today I came here for the internet, so I could make some phone calls and skype with friends. The library is spacious, with a main area, computer lab, and art display on the first floor, Spanish section downstairs, teen and kids books upstairs, and every once in a while I'll hear an announcement about which movie is next in the free theater (I have yet to see or find out where the theater is, but I'm sure it's in the building somewhere). 

As the library only opens at ten in the morning, I've often gotten here before the doors open without realizing the time. Every morning it seems as though a small crowd gathers outside the doors on the benches and structures. The conversations I've overheard as I wait range from where to get weed, to how to give stitches. There are people from med school, and people on parole, moms with their children, homeless people trailed by their cart of belongings, and this morning there was a drunk. 

I got to the library half an hour early this morning, having failed to get a good connection at the coffee shop. When I arrived, there was a man eating his breakfast and feeding the flock of pigeons, a mother pacing with a stroller, and an older man hunched over on a bench. I took a seat in the sun on a ledge by the stairs, enjoying a warmth and the fresh air. A young man sauntered up and stood staring absentmindedly at the pigeons. He was followed shortly by his friend, and they stood there listening to music and throwing out the intermittent comment. The young mom walked off to the other side of the block, and she was passed by an middle-aged man weaving up the walk. The man came straight toward me, stuck out his hand, and introduced himself as Chris. He told me we had met before, and asked if I was ok before turning around and heading over to talk with the young men on the other side of the walk. I was surprised by his greeting, slightly overwhelmed by the alcohol on his breath; and I was glad he had moved on to talk to the others. No one had talked to me at the library other than Albert, the older security guard, and I wasn't sure how to take this encounter. 

As I was wondering what had just happened, the man finished greeting the others and turned my direction. Leaning against the ledge beside me, Chris proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes asking me questions, telling me not to call him sir, and trying to find every way to compliment me and find similarities in interests all the while assuring me that he wasn't hitting on me. Thankfully for me, I also have the ability to ask questions and make conversation without saying much myself, so I enjoyed the challenge of it (don't worry mom, there were lots of people around us, it was bright outside, and the man learnt quickly that I did not like any more contact than a handshake). 

Though I felt relieved when the library doors finally opened, looking back on it, I wonder if there could have been any way to somehow communicate God's love to this man. Or maybe by just taking the time to take an interest in his life (even if just to direct his attention away from asking me questions) he was able to find a bit of hope. 

One thing I'll take away from it though, the people who hang out before library hours are pretty cool. I could tell that they were watching to see what would happen as this man approached me and they seemed as uncomfortable with the situation as I felt. And when another guy showed up, he seemed to assess the situation, and he joined our conversation, introducing himself as Zach, and he kept the man's attention until the library opened. 

Looking back, though it was uncomfortable, God was watching out for me not only in keeping me protected, but also giving me an 'in' with this group of people who I've been around but never had excuse to talk to before. 

Music to my Ears

I biked to the store today to pick up some baking and eating supplies. I was taking my time getting home, pushing my bike up the hills and enjoying the feeling of freedom to be running around the city basking in the early morning sun when I heard it.
Being in a city, I'm used to hearing a lot of things on the streets here: honking, barking, yelling, whistling, blaring radios, revving engines, squealing brakes. At first this sounded like a radio, but as I kept walking and listening I realized what it was, and turning around, I spotted him in the distance. A block behind me I could see a young man walking along, guitar in hand, playing and singing at the top of his lungs. While it might not have been the most musical music coming from his mouth, it was definitely the most passionate bittersweet singing I have heard on the streets here.
I continued on my way with a smile on my face, enjoying the unique situation for a couple more blocks before turning the corner.