the adventures of e and p: Three good things

Hello, dear ones!

Once upon a time in the tiny town of Davidson, North Carolina, a college student had a very bad day. Nothing particularly horrible happened. No tests were failed or friendships ruptured, yet it ended with a disconsolate college junior wandering down the dormitory hall, sobbing. Next door, she found kind friends who offered the appropriate collations, apple juice and Fig Newtons. They sent her to bed with a promise to check on her the next day, and they did. Three good things, they asked. What are three things, however small, that happened today? The good things, offered with gratitude, lightened the burdens of the day and brightened its dull monotony. They began a tradition in the fall of 1998 that has continued by phone and email, and occasionally face to face, linking two friends across years of change.

Multiple research studies document a strong correlation between the cultivation of gratitude and sense of personal well-being. (Skeptics can email me for citations.) As a twenty-year-old college student, however, Janice was merely relying on her instincts of kindness and compassion to help a friend see hope on the other side of admittedly transient despair. Bad things, discouraging, frustrating, even heart-breaking things happen daily. A planet populated by imperfect, irrational humans all acting on the primal urge to dominate others is bound to be full of trouble. Yet lovely, astonishing, magnificently good things are everywhere present. My mom used to tell me that you can't always get what you want, but I've decided that it depends on what you want. I'm not taking any trips to the Maldives or even Montreal this year, but I have the security of a loving home, generous friends, and wise doctors.

On the fourth Thursday of November, millions of Americans enjoy a day of indulgence, feasting on roasted poultry with a side of football. Many pause to count their blessings: family, friends, and food. In gratitude for all the years I've been able to count my blessings, here are my three good things today:

1. My stable health. At the moment, I'm a little cranky from a few days of a stuffy nose and minor sniffles. My nasal passages haven't thanked me for the extra irritation of cranked up liter flow, since my oxygen saturation is always a little worse when I'm congested. Although I haven't enjoyed the half a week of hoarding tissues, it reminds me of how blessed I truly am. While I experience lots of shortness of breath and plenty of fatigue, I very rarely feel unwell. I can enjoy the activities of my day without excessive distraction as long as I plan ahead sufficiently. One of my pulmonary rehab buddies who was taken to the emergency room during a session has now been hospitalized until she receives a transplant. Yet I can continue a life of ordinary pleasures, baking chocolate chip cookies, curling up with a pot of tea and a good book, watching the colors change on the Gulf Tower through my window at night. I cherish the moments that are mine to enjoy at my own pace.

2. An amazing support system. My last day of work at Brigham and Women's Hospital was July 12, 2013. Until this move to Pittsburgh on August 22, 2014, I was physically encircled by the sisterhood of my midwife and nurse colleagues. They called, brought meals, made hot chocolate dates to get me out of the house, held bake sales, sewed me a beautiful quilt, and always reminded me that I was cherished as a colleague and friend. Even now from afar, I'm still Skyped into midwife baby showers and blessed with loving messages. My Highrock church family was just as amazing. From prayers to meals to reading lists for allaying boredom, my beloved friends kept me sane, nourishing me body and spirit. I've been blessed to make friends in the doctor's office waiting room, at a housewarming, at French class, and to keep those friends over the years. Both Peter's family and mine helped us move in and furnish our apartment. My mother-in-law keeps me well-stocked with knitted hats, scarves, and sweaters, often spinning the wool herself on her spinning wheel. As I establish connections in Pittsburgh through pulmonary rehab buddies, friends of friends, and church acquaintances, I'm filled with joyful memories of all the love poured out on Peter and me from all of the remarkable people in our lives. I take encouragement from Psalm 23: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, goodness and mercy follow me, and my soul is restored.

3. Serendipity. After the initial flurry of activity to set up our Pittsburgh apartment, I lapsed into homesickness, with uncharacteristic moping and boredom. Within a week or so, Peter decided that it was time for me to make more Pittsburgh friends than the two we had known on arrival. Led to the local birth center by a giant mural of a pregnant woman, he escorted me to the front door. I rang the doorbell, then heard a voice come through the speaker, "May I help you?" Short pause, deep breath, then, "Hi! I'm a midwife who's just moved to Pittsburgh for healthcare, and I'd love to volunteer for you." That day, I met several of the midwives who staff the birth center, as well as attend births at a nearby hospital. They gathered around Peter and me in their office kitchen, and midwifed us. They made me feel their commiseration for my struggles, but not the pity that so often follows. If I was a midwife reaching out to the local birth community, then they would gather me in. In typical midwife creative problem-solving fashion, they found a role for me. The Midwife Center mentors new graduate nurse-midwives through a yearlong fellowship program and also takes on midwifery students in the final stage of their studies. I now meet with these women once a week and offer myself as a mentor and sounding board, an excuse to relax over dinner, a person outside the clinical setting who offers extra experience. I’m still amazed that a drop-in visit to The Midwife Center would result in an unexpected way to make friends while remaining engaged in my profession.

Thanksgiving has passed, but as we begin Advent, a season of expectant waiting, what good things are you hoping for, celebrating, manifesting?

This post lovingly remembers PDD, whose joyful and radiant life was interrupted much too soon. Thanksgivings with your family are some of my most treasured memories. I love and miss you always.