Leaving a Legacy...Or Not.

Several months ago during an interview for a campus event planning committee, I was asked the question, “What kind of legacy do you want to leave at UMHB?” Conveniently, I had pondered that very thing earlier in the day and had a ready answer.

At the time, I wanted my legacy to be that students would remember me as kind, servant-hearted, and loving the Lord and others. I hoped part of my legacy would include other students continuing on a ministry in which I was involved. But if I was being honest, mostly I just hoped that I would leave a legacy.

I didn’t want to be forgotten. Or what I'd done to go to waste. Isn’t that what legacies are about? The unique something you’ll leave behind? Or what you’ll be remembered for?

A few weeks ago, as I walked through the apartments and past the Student Union Building on the way to class, with students milling about all around me, a thought hit me.

I didn’t know a single one of the dozens of students I’d passed.

And I was okay with that. 

There was a time when I couldn't cross campus without stopping every few yards to greet someone, but waves of freshmen had arrived much faster than my slowing pace of meeting people. It used to be easy to think I would leave a legacy when so many people knew me. Yet in that moment walking to class I became starkly aware that I knew a much smaller fraction of the student population than before, which meant the chances of leaving a lasting legacy were much slimmer. Surprisingly, this didn't bother me, and I realized it was because that "legacy" and being remembered weren't so important to me anymore.

Over the past few weeks I’ve come to terms with the reality that I will walk across the stage in a few days, and in a year or two only a handful of students will recognize my name. In five years no students will. In a dozen years, a single staff member may be the only one on campus who remembers who I am and what I stood for during college. 

But that's okay. Maybe going to college and participating in organizations and planning activities isn’t about how I will impact things. Maybe it isn’t about being remembered. Maybe it isn’t about me leaving a legacy at all.

I am an individual, and as an individual student I will be forgotten. Yet as an individual student, I have enjoyed and contributed to ministries and activities and traditions – things that have been for decades (centuries, even!) and that will probably continue for decades. I have been a drop in the stream that keeps the water wheel turning. I have loved my time with those who have been on the water wheel at the same time as I have, and we have made great impact and left powerful personal legacies in each other’s lives. I have been discipled by students who have been discipled by students who have been discipled by students - and so it goes back for decades. And I have discipled students. In my own small yet significant way, I have added my legacy to one that is much grander than my own.

It is unrealistic to think I will be remembered by name at an ever-changing institution like Mary Hardin-Baylor, where the student body grows and shifts by the semester. But that’s okay. I am content, for I have taken part in a legacy that is much bigger.

A culture of kindness. An atmosphere that cultivates community. Organizations that develop leaders with integrity. Staff who both teach and mentor. Ministries that glorify Christ as King. This is the legacy of UMHB.

I am content, and I have no regrets. For I have had the privilege of participating all-out in this: this legacy that lives at UMHB.

Special thanks to the Cru for teaching me so much over the past few years – and for giving me an example on a small scale of what it’s like to find contentment in something (whether that be college or Kingdom) bigger than me.

On Sabbaths and Nursing School

Throughout the past few semesters, underclassman nursing majors have asked me for tips on nursing school. The truth is, most of the time I have had no idea what to tell them. I've always felt I was still learning how to live life as a student just like anyone else. The past few weeks, however, I realized I’ve nearly reached the end. Looking back, nursing school isn't something I simply survived. It’s been an adventure – with mountaintop days and days I wanted to give up the climb. 

It’s been a journey. Just like the rest of life.

As these five demanding semesters come to a close, maybe I do have wisdom to share with those beginning nursing school. Like...use Kaplan. Keep friends who aren’t nursing majors. Don’t quit just because it’s hard. Don't take school too seriously. Don't take friendships too lightly. But perhaps the most helpful thing I could say is this:

Take a Sabbath.

When I was a freshman, I began praying about what observing the Sabbath looked like as a college student. (After all, it is one of the Ten Commandments. I think that means it’s at least semi-important to God.) I soon started taking a Sabbath from studying every weekend, from sundown Saturday to sundown Sunday - which allowed for a full day of rest as well as time to study the night before a weekly Monday quiz! I found taking this break every week was beyond refreshing.

Thankfully, it became a habit.

I say “thankfully” because the next semester marked the beginning of nursing school. Many Saturday evenings I struggled to put away notes for a test I was stressed about (we nursing majors excel at stressing). Yet because it was a habit already, it was easier to close out the powerpoints, shut my binder of notes and cap the highlighter. God never failed to honor this obedience of trusting Him and His command to keep the Sabbath. 

So, I amend my advice: Take a Sabbath. And make it a habit.

The Sabbath has become precious time to me. It has demanded that I pause life and rest. Spiritually. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. This rest is different from a study break because it is an entire day. Often it takes at least a couple hours to bring the momentum of my mind's rapid pace of thoughts to a halt, which barely happens (or doesn't at all) during a study break. Furthermore, we as a culture - especially college students, and of those especially nursing students - don't like to rest. We are all about productivity and efficiency. Keeping the Sabbath has given time to rest and, in a sense, has taught me how to rest. 

And this process of learning how to stop working, worrying, and striving - this has brought incredible freedom.

Rest has ranged from afternoon naps to soccer games with friends. It has spanned semesters when I've been overly worried about grades and semesters when I've been under-worried about them and overwhelmed with social engagements.  

Regardless of the type of rest it has been, every week the Sabbath has been a day that gives, while the remainder of the week has steadily taken.

During the past three years, I have realized this: taking Sabbaths is healthy. Although it may be inconvenient or seem unnecessary at times, God intended for us to rest. Not only does it help us refocus on the Lord, but it also provides an opportunity for us to step back from life, regroup, and operate more efficiently the rest of the week. On a practical level, it encourages balance and time management and discourages Sunday afternoon cramming.

Yet the most valuable part of Sabbaths, I have found, is the sweetness of knowing the Lord more through these times of rest.

To all my fellow nursing students, don't let nursing school daunt you. Taking Sabbaths is possible. It is freeing. It is worth it. It is an opportunity to come closer to the Lord.

I have tasted, and I have seen. The sweetness of knowing the Lord more through Sabbath-keeping is far sweeter than achieving A’s in the hardest courses. It is sweeter than making a dozen new friends. It is sweeter than the RN, BSN that prayerfully will follow my name in a few short weeks.

In this journey of nursing school, it’s been true. Just like in the rest of life. 

The sweetness of knowing the Lord more is sweeter.

Why I Won't Go to Africa to Help with the Ebola Crisis

As a nursing student, each month I participate in a small-group, interdisciplinary ethics meeting with nursing students, medical students, a chaplain, a nurse, and a doctor.  Last week the topic for discussion was the ebola crisis; the question posed was, “Would you go to Africa to help with the ebola crisis?”  Some people said no, with the reasons ranging from “I don’t feel qualified” to “I don’t want to go in blind – we don’t know enough about the virus and how it’s transmitted.”  Some people said yes, they probably would go, because as healthcare professionals we are to help and care for people.  I said I would consider it. 

After some discussion and after others in the group had elaborated on why or why not they would go, the doctor who was facilitating turned to me.  “Allison, you said you would consider it.  Why did you say that?”

My heart started beating fast, and my face was warm.  Not because I was nervous, but because this topic gets emotional for me.  I began slowly and almost made it through my reasoning without my voice quivering and giving away my emotion.  You see, I learned a lot about caring for peoples’ health needs in other countries this summer.  You may have noticed I have been absent from blogging for quite a while, and that is because when I came home from Cambodia in August, I had much more to unpack than dirty socks and underwear.  I had a summer full of memories in a foreign hospital that was severely under-resourced in many different ways.  The past few months have been a season of emotional unpacking, wrestling with the “why’s” of seeing preventable suffering and death, and questioning God’s goodness.  This summer I felt completely overwhelmed by the sickness and brokenness in the hospital, watching a beautiful people group made in God’s image lay on metal bed frames in sickness and suffering.  I have never hit my breaking point and then been pushed past it so many times in my life.

But God is faithful.  After some nudging from a counselor, I explored the “why” questions that so bothered me about this summer’s experience in the hospital.

First, why did God let me see what I saw?  What was the purpose of seeing the suffering, the deaths, the tears of family losing a loved one to what I knew was a preventable disease?  The cold reality is that the suffering would have happened if I had seen it or not.  So why did God choose for me to witness it?

The answer came quietly one day while I sat weeping and remembering the patients I had seen.  I was sitting alone – because the weeping was easier alone, and no one in the world knew exactly what I had experienced, seen, observed, worked in.  I felt desperate and detached much of the time with my emotions and memories and grief.  It was too big for me, and it overwhelmed me.  I could not comprehend the suffering or the health disparity between developing countries and the United States.  As I sat on the floor with tissues beside me, I asked over and over again, “Why? Why did you let me see that?”  And the Lord answered.

Because I am there.  I am there in the hospital.  I see the suffering, and I grieve.  Yet I am bigger than all the suffering and all the good.  For years you have marveled at My love because your mind cannot comprehend it.  Now, you marvel at the amount of suffering that exists and My ability to grieve compassionately for each and every person.  I am bigger than all of it, Allison; the suffering is too deep for you to grasp, and so is my love.  On both ends of the spectrum, I am bigger.  I hold both things in my heart: intense love and intense care for the suffering.  You saw these things because I am there, and I have invited you into this part of my heart, too: the part where I see each person’s suffering and pain and grieve for them.

Leading up to the summer it was my prayer that each day I would know the Lord better at the end of the day than at the beginning.  He granted that prayer.  I never would have asked to be ushered into this part of God’s heart, but He chose to bring me in anyway. 

And I know Him more intimately for it.
 

The second “why” question I asked was, “Why does suffering like this happen at all?”  I knew the church answer: because humans sinned, and the world is broken.  But when the images of beautiful Khmer people hurting and memories of suffering came back to haunt me, this answer was far from enough.  I believed God was sovereign.  Never did I doubt that.  But since He was sovereign, why did He allow this suffering?  I only saw an inkling of what goes on in Cambodia, much less the world.  He could not let this happen and still be good.  He was sovereign.  He could do something.  So I sat there on the floor praying through tears again, asking why, and rejecting the answer that it was just because of sin.

Again, the answer came quietly. 

Because you – the world – need Me.

How was this different from the answer that the world is broken due to sin?  The explanation is simple.  My answer – “we sinned and the world is broken” – ends with us.  It ends with our sin and our brokenness.  It ends with frustration, helplessness, and hopelessness.  The answer the Lord gave, though, did not end with us or with the consequences of our sins. 

It ended with Him. 

This world and all that it holds – the evil, the suffering, the good, the joys – is not about us and our brokenness.  It is about Him.  The Lord’s answer was one of hope: it ends not with us but with Him.
 

Back to ebola.  My voice wavered and my heart pounded and my face flushed because talking about healthcare in other countries stirs up strong emotions.  It brings back memories that will never be erased from my mind of people dying and ill who could have been alive and well. 

The reason that I would consider going and would not just go to Africa is because seeing people suffer and die in a developing country is extremely hard emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.  When you know just as much as physicians about medical care for a disease, and you still do not know what to do to treat someone…that is one of the most helpless and overwhelming feelings that exists.

I would consider going, and I have considered and prayed about going.  Yet for now, I will not go to Africa to help with the ebola crisis because my heart is not ready for it.  After a summer in Cambodia, I am still recovering.  Maybe in the future I will go (and I believe I am called back to Cambodia in the future), but for the time being, I have to let my heart finish grieving and healing. 

Perhaps when we talk about going to Africa and the reasons we would or would not go, we are mistaken about the hardest parts of being there.  Perhaps the hardest part would not be the fear of contracting the virus or not feeling qualified to treat a patient. 

Perhaps the hardest part would be the grieving it would demand from our hearts. 

Should we shy away from this kind of grief?  No!  As I said before, I know the Lord more intimately for it.  Should we prayerfully seek the Lord as to whether we should go or stay?  Yes.  For whichever way He leads, I believe this:

We will know the Lord more intimately for it.

For the First Time in Forever

Because there are so many things I've experienced for the first time here.

The window is open, so's that door
Unless it's raining we don't close them anymore
Good thing we use mosquito nets when it's late

For weeks I've roamed the hospital halls
Why don't they have any protocols?
Finally I'm learning about drip rates

IVs and D10 in all people
To me it's totally strange
But wow, I am getting used to this change

'Cause for the first time in forever
I gave a Scot a rabies vaccine
For the first time in forever
A vacuum delivery I've seen

Don't know if lil Stephen's elated or gassy
But he's somewhere in that zone
For the first time in forever
I have a 3-year-old bodyguard of my own

I can't wait to watch Youtubes with Enah! (gasp)
What if I watch... Peppa Pig?

Tonight imagine me marker and all
With dry erase board against the wall
Teaching about different colors, hygiene and shapes

Ooh! I suddenly see them standing there
Sunday school children at 7am already here
First I gotta stuff some eggs and rice in my face

But then we sing and learn about Jesus,
Which is totally a blast
The Sundays fly by so very fast

For the first time in forever
I've seen Vietnam, had so much fun
For the first time in forever
I've been called Vietnamese by someone

And I know it is totally crazy
Learning to speak Khmer
But for the first time in forever
There's no other way to get by

The LCC students:
Don't let her go, don't let her leave
Maybe she'll stay if I pray and just believe
Stay here, stay near, go to e-camp
Don't give your passport for the exit stamp

Me: It's been an amazing summer
LCC students: It's been an amazing summer

Me: Only a few more days to wait
LCC students: A few more days to wait

Me: It's almost time to go back to the states
LCC students: The states

Me: For the first time in forever
LCC students: Don't let her go, don't let her leave

Me: I've lived a summer I've dreamed of
LCC students: Maybe she'll stay if I pray and just believe

Me: Two months on this side of the world
LCC students: Stay here

Me: A chance to share Christ's love
LCC students: Stay here, stay near, go to e-camp

Me:
I know I go back home next week,
So I'm thankful for today
'Cause for the first time in forever
For the first time in forever
I am going to miss Kratie!

I know, this is only a somewhat informative post, but it sure is a fun one! If you have questions about any of my new experiences mentioned here, message or email me! Or ask me next week when I'm in the States!

With love,
Allison