“Today is so full of blessings!”
That’s what I exclaimed to Matty yesterday afternoon as we sat at Starbucks after my loooong day of orientation. Just a couple hours later, he was rubbing my back as I cried in the pasta sauce aisle at Walmart, because I was overwhelmed and missed my mom.
And if all that isn’t an accurate representation of these past couple months, I don’t know what is.
Truly, for as much change as these past few months have brought me, they’ve brought equal doses of mood swings—overwhelmed by blessings, then fear, peace, fatigue, excitement, doubt... I’ve gone through more attitude adjustments than I’d care to recount. And I’ve learned and grown. I’m still terrified of what’s ahead—of being an RN and getting an apartment and getting married—but God relentlessly assures me, through countless ways, that I am exactly where He wants me. That I’ve been in daunting situations before, and He has always proven Himself faithful. He may not provide in the way I expect or the way I think I want Him to, but I can rejoice in the knowledge that His way is always, always best.
I’ll be starting on a Palliative care floor—a far cry from anything I ever thought I wanted; yet I find myself excited. I feel such assurance that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. And I think most of that assurance comes from the fact that the circumstances that got me this job were so clearly orchestrated by God and not by me.
On July 29th, right before I opened the envelope that would tell me whether I got a job at Lakeland Regional or not, I prayed, “Lord, whatever is in this envelope is Your best for me. Help me to have peace in that, even if Your best isn’t what I was wanting. Help me know that this is your will—because it is.” I opened that letter to find out that I had not been hired on at LRH; instead, I was put on a waiting list. And in that moment, amidst the pain and confusion and humiliation, it was like God was urging me—“THIS IS my best for you. You have to see that I am in control here—not you. Your will is not mine, and I’m forcing you to have to trust me more. I will provide—My ways are higher than yours.” And, to be honest, my response was, “I know God—but that doesn’t mean that I like it.”
Then, through God’s hand (and He used the body of Christ to provide in a beautiful way), I got a job at LRH. On a Palliative and Acute Care floor. I wanted women’s health or pediatrics or emergency department—and I got Palliative care. But because God provided in a way that was so obviously through His mighty power and not my own faulty will, I have such peace that this floor is the best possible floor for me at this time of my life—that He has some great things to teach me there.
Yet I’m still terrified. I still sit in my orientation sessions thinking, “I take it back—I take the past two years back. Please let me just go be a barista at a coffee shop or something. I can’t do this.” But I also wanted to quit after my first semester of nursing school, but God provided. And these past two years have shown me His provision in ways I had never experienced before. So even though I’m so nervous I want to turn off my 4:45 AM alarm and pretend that I never decided to be a nurse, I’ll set that alarm. I’ll get up tomorrow morning and put on my crisp black scrubs. I’ll clip my name badge on and look with disbelief and overwhelming gratitude at the words “Registered Nurse” under my name. I’ll go to my new floor and meet my manager. I will be scared. And I will find, like I do every day, that God’s mercies are new every morning—great is His faithfulness.