This I believe: I was born to be a
servant
I was born into a loving family, fifth in the birth
order, and baby of the clan. It seems that almost everyone knows that the baby
of the family gets spoiled rotten, no matter how much the parents deny it. For
the foundational seven years of my life, I enjoyed this position that life had
so kindly handed to me. My little being was surrounded by those who would take
care of my every need.
When I was seven my little sister came on the scene,
unexpected, and the self-declared “icing on the cake”. She was small and precious with blue eyes and
a contagious laugh. Needless to say I no
longer held the same position I had previously. While my first years were spent
being waited on hand and foot, today I declare my belief that despite all this,
I was born to serve.
Early in my life, one phone call tipped the Earth
off its axis, and it stopped revolving around me. I was 12 years old, coming in
from a glorious adventure in the forest. As I came near the house, I heard a
phone ring. That was the call, the news, which changed my life.
My cousin, near to my age and one of my closest
friends, was trying to play football with her brothers. As they tumbled about
the frozen ground, her legs began to go numb and she had to lie down. After her
symptoms grew worse, she was taken to Hershey Medical Center where she was
diagnosed with Ewings sarcoma, a rare bone cancer with a 10 percent chance of
long term survival.
Both of us were homeschool at the time, perfect for
two sisters-at-heart who did not want to be separated. Through the next two years
I ended up with her more than at my own home. I was right there with her whether
she was in the hospital for a dose of that ‘poison’ or at home hiding from
microscopic killers.
Call it a
paradigm shift or a preteen waking up to the world’s realities; whatever you
call it, things changed. Reality would never revolve around me again. As I
tried my best to fight the cancer with her, my eyes opened wider to Whom the
world did revolve around.
I knew Christ personally for a few years and knew
about him since before I had learned to talk. Yet, this period in my life
transformed my relationship with God, like nothing I had ever experienced.
Christ has a way of showing up when you need him and I can tell you that his
presence was strong, and personal, and undeniable as we walked that road for 2
years.
During this period, I noticed my aunts, uncles,
grandparents, and parents, give willingly of themselves. I saw healthcare
workers toiling around the clock. I observed my sick
cousin, voluntarily and selflessly spending hours and days
sewing pillows for father’s ill patients. I witnessed people who were working for
something bigger them themselves
My cousin’s life and death were chisels that started
to mold me into who I was born to become. As life went on, I felt those seeds
of service, which were planted during the cancer years, grow. As I entered my
final year of high school, I heard about the poverty in Haiti. Doing nothing was
not an option. By the summer after high school, I was on my second trip to that
impoverished Caribbean island. As we lived in tents, in poor conditions, and
worked from sun up to sun down, I felt deeply at home.
I had been looking for something meaningful, something
beyond York, Pennsylvania. Through my late teens I had begun to look up to a
role model and was inspired by him. This man was willing to hang out with the
people on the fringes of society. He treated and healed those with horrific
flesh eating skin diseases. When these same people he was serving, deserted him
when he needed them most, he cooked them breakfast and welcomed them back.
Humbly, he even washed the feet of the man whose betrayal ultimately led to his
death. I desired to live my life in such a manner.
As fall neared, football season started, and
freshman were shopping for dorm supplies, I was packing my suitcase for another
destination. The parentless, unloved, children of a third world country were
calling out to me. The longer I stayed put, the louder the call seemed to be.
If I postponed going to attend college, I would have been too distracted to learn. My
heart yearned to do something.
While living
at the orphanage, a young man asked me to help him. He had an infected
abdominal wound. I was speechless and clueless. He was clearly very ill and I
had nothing to do for him. I spent four
frustrating months there; seeing the sick and the hurting and having no physical
way to help.
I
came home for Christmas searching for the answer to one burning question. How
can I make a difference? I didn’t have much time, less than a month, and I was
back on a plane. This time I was going half way around the world to Uganda,
Africa. This continent was no less weighty on my heart and no less clear in
showing me my inadequacy. I was 18 years old, I could play basketball, and hunt
deer; I had nothing tangible to offer. The call to serve was clear, the
question was ‘how?’.
Still
pondering that haunting question, I visited a hospital in Uganda. In a bed, all
alone, lay a baby girl. I walked closer to her, knelt down, took her frail hand
in mine, and began to pray for her tiny body and her little soul. I remembered
how comforting Christ had been to me through my trials and I wanted to be a comfort
to this little withered child. The nurses told me her mother had left when she
learned the child’s diagnosis. I sat in that smoldering hot hospital room, next
to this small child, and at that moment, that second when I looked at her face
and saw the lines of pain on her forehead, I wanted with all my heart to be a
nurse.
In a wave of memories, I thought of all the nurses
who had cared for my cousin while she fought her hidden slayer. At the same
time I saw all of the faces of the people who needed physical help I could not
offer. It was as clear to me as if it were spoken out loud. I came home from
Africa passionate to become a nurse.
The years of college ran by quickly. A’s came not
because of intelligence, or aim at reward, but because every single thing I learned might help me
save a life in the future, or at least relieve suffering. I was driven to learn
as much as I could, always considering the lack of resources I might encounter
in a third world country. I knew that in rural Africa, I might not be able to
phone a friend if ever I didn’t know what to do.
I am passionate about nursing because I believe with
all my being that I was born to serve people. Nursing is the key to fulfilling
my destiny; my outlet to share the love that has been given to me. Nursing is
the tool I have been given to serve hurting people.
This belief changes everything about nursing.
Interactions with patients surge with care and compassion. I don’t go to work
for a pay check or to get through one more twelve hour shift. I approach each
day as my mission not my occupation.
Being born to serve makes me passionate about becoming the best there is. I am fully devoted to striving to become skilled enough to work in the best ICU in America. Yet, I
want to be humble enough to change the putrid abdominal wound of a homeless man in
a third world country. I believe I was
born for this.
