Happiness Is...

“Promise Yourself

To be so strong that nothing
can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness, and prosperity
to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.

To think only the best, to work only for the best,
and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear,
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world,
not in loud words but great deeds.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.” 
― Christian D. Larson, Your Forces and How to Use Them




These words are really resonating with me tonight.  Breathe it in, let it settle.  This is what I've been looking for.

Hold My Hand

Have you ever given someone a bath?  Not just a child, but a grown adult, an elder, a person that can no longer care for their body but still is valuable, still has breath and heart and thoughts and a worthy soul...these are the bodies that need bathing as well.  

I remember once I bathed a woman in her nineties who had been particularly difficult to get along with.  She was in the hospital (obviously) and was battling a gut disease that was taking over her life.  I gathered the necessary supplies, dipped the wash cloth into warm water and began to bathe her.  I washed her face first, then shoulders, arms, legs.  Slowly, as I bathed her, she began to relax and settle, her eyes closing.  I helped her roll onto her side and began to wash her back.  I thought about the life she had led that required this particular back.  A once-strong back that had served a still-strong lady. A back that washed clothes and cooked meals and supported the births of five children.  I dried her off and got her comfortable again in bed with fresh linens and a new outfit.  I combed her hair and braided it gently.  And then I left.  

I wish I could tell you that we had a magical bond after that and she became suddenly pleasant and nice.  I wish I could tell you that my bath healed her stomach and she left the hospital skipping the next day.  The truth is that she was sick before her bath and she was sick after the bath.  But I realized something then, that perhaps I had known all along.  

I truly believe that the purpose of life is to help others. I know for sure that my God takes joy in the helping hands that reach out, the kisses given, the hugs received.  I know for sure that I made her life better, even if just for an hour or so.  Everyone is beautiful.  Everyone belongs.  They may not always be thankful, but we do it anyway.  There are things much, much more important than your makeup or your outfit or your car or your phone.  I fall into the trap of materialism sometimes, and honestly, I'm never very happy when I'm worrying about those sorts of things.   

I wish that I always had a humble heart.  I wish that I always looked out for others above myself. But I believe in second and third and fourth chances.  

Part of what I miss about being a nursing student as opposed to being an actual nurse is just that quality time that I was able to spend with patients.  As a nurse, I'm busy.  I don't get to bathe people or talk to them or sit and listen to their stories.  Maybe if we looked at souls as a holistic part of healthcare, we would be more successful on a biological level.  It's so easy so see six patients and six med passes and six bedrooms instead of six beating hearts that have thoughts and souls and lives.  I hope I never harden.  I hope I always cry after one of my patients dies.  I hope I always have a hard time explaining a terminal disease diagnosis to someone.  

Mother Theresa:

Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.

Even the rich are hungry for love, for being cared for, for being wanted, for having someone to call their own.

The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread.

One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody.

All About My White Ink Tattoo

I have a tattoo.  It's fairly new, as tattoos go, about 8 months.  My family isn't entirely accepting of tattoos but they aren't necessarily unaccepting either.  They just don't have them and aren't quite sure why I would want them :).

For me, it was a big choice and one that I thought about for many years.  I have struggled with anxiety and worry my entire life.  I wanted something to help soothe that and represent what I truly know: that life is to be enjoyed and glorified and lived.  I researched lots of different options, but I ended up deciding on the om symbol.

The Om symbol has deeply religious roots, in Hindu, Buddism, and Jainism.  It literally means the universe, the past present and future, the origin and end of all things and all times.  To me, this is God.  I am a practicing Christian and I wanted a symbol that reminded me to be centered in my faith, to be pure in my walk and to set all my worries aside and focus on the tasks at hand.  I love it.  It's on the radial pulse of my left wrist and I see it every day.

Right after. It bleeds a bit! 

Marking out the design 

About an hour after.  

As I'm in a professional trade (nursing), I opted to go for a white ink tattoo and I couldn't be happier with the outcome.  I also tend towards daintier, feminine things and the white ink fits my personality.  Subtle but fully present.  The tattoo artist wasn't thrilled to do a white tattoo.  He cautioned me that as it healed, it would turn a color similar to skin and be hard to see.  I understood.  I wanted that, a design that looked like it was part of me.

Did it hurt?  Heck yes it hurt!  But it wasn't NEARLY as bad as I was expecting.  It honestly only took about two minutes and the part that hurt the most was when he went back over the parts he had already done.  It felt like stepping on a burr or getting bitten by a fire ant.  The pain lasted maybe five minutes afterward.  Easy peasy.

This is how my tattoo looks now, all healed up

Black and white shows the contrast better.  I love it!