Memory of the life that could have been

I am shutting down my blog “Tales of the Field” that was to chronicle my journey as a budding EMT and Firefighter since the last embers of that dream have burned out.

However, I wish to keep the memory of the experience close to my heart and possibly spread a little joy with it. I know I will live a new dream and as long as I keep living I will always be able to find passion within myself.

This is a re-post from January 19, 2012:

“Receiving my acceptance letter to the new member academy at the firehouse was a joyous moment that marked the beginning of my career in the emergency medicine services. My first day was a bit of a wake-up call. Imagine my surprise when I was the only female, at least a head shorter than everybody else, and overall lacking in girth.

You see, I had found one of the only firehouses in the area that accepted people that were medically certified that weren’t actual fire fighters. The only catch was, by the end of the academy you needed to have a fire skill.

So, it was me the little EMT-B amongst all these big ole wannabe fire fighters. I was quickly filed away as the little sister of the class. This included the occasional support in between all the teasing.

I was presented with the opportunity to make my first big impression on the night that the bunker gear was assigned.

My first challenge came in attempting to find anything small enough to fit my womanly 5’4” frame. Once I deduced that the smallest pants on the rack could still fit two of me: I just had to suck it up. I swam in my coat and my feet felt as if I had slipped on clown shoes instead of fire boots.

Then came the time to put it all together and be checked off. Slipping on my pants, I attempted to find suspenders short enough to work. After one of the lieutenants attempted four different suspenders in an attempt to find the smallest ones, he gave up and told me that I would just need to grow a few inches and sent me off with suspenders that slipped off my shoulders.

Next came the boots. Now I knew the boots were supposed to go inside the pants, however, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to get them underneath my pant legs.

Now, I want to take a moment to once again emphasize that I was the only one in the group who was not fire fighter minded.

After failing to slip the boots under the pants, I decided to take the pants off, put the boots on, and try going about it that way. It wasn’t until my boot was stuck halfway down the pant leg and I fell onto my behind that I realized that was not the way to go about it.

So, there I was on the floor struggling to pull my boot out of my pants. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed when one of my class mates had to help pull me free. He then proceeded to show me that you are supposed to slip the boots into the pants before you put either one on and then you slip into the boot through the pant leg and promptly pull the pants the rest of the way up.

Once I had overcome that mountain, I slipped on my coat and moved on to get my helmet; which of course fell down into my eyes. I continued to push it up and assumed I was just stuck with it, until once again one of my fellow classmates showed me that there was a screw in the back which tightened the helmet.

Having been utterly humiliated, I was glad to be done for the night. I was the only one who hadn’t played with fire equipment before and I was the only girl. In the back of my mind I was really hoping that they didn’t connect the two.

The rest of the new member academy went fairly well and I gained my fire skill of tender operations (basically the person that brings the water to the fire fighters). Of course there was the fact that I couldn’t lift let alone throw the hose larger than the one and one half inches. Or the fact that I was too short to simply climb into the fire trucks like the boys and needed to swing myself like a monkey into the cab. Or that I was the only one who needed to stand up on a tire to do the engine checks. Or…well you get the point.

All in all, I survived the new member academy and made it to probie status. For those of you who do not know what this is let me explain. A probie is basically the lowest of the low for six months at a minimum. A probie is the house maid, truck cleaner, food cooker, brunt of all jokes, is known as probie or the ever affectionate “red shirt”, and of course let us not forget the pranking: such as, banging on bedroom doors, shaking chairs, being asked to complete tasks that don’t exist, and well, the list goes on.

I am now three months into my probationary period. I have had the joys of falling down in the back of an ambulance, having my very first patient attempt to comfort me as I was a nervous mess, be snapped at by a doctor because I wasn’t giving my report fast enough, and driving training.

Oh the driving training.  Now for a girl that only ever really drove a compact car, an ambulance is more than just a little big. I was able to pass the driving course with only a slightly horrific carnage of cones. The real driver training began with my crew. This was where I learned the importance of smooth stopping and turns. My paramedic in an attempt to drill it into my head that every little movement you feel up front is amplified in the back, took the lid off of my soda and set it up on the dash.

For everyone who has not done this before I’ll just let you know that it is extraordinarily stressful. Add in the fact that you are surrounded by really expensive electrical equipment and I’m hoping you can feel my pain. The entire time I was just thinking over and over “please don’t spill, for the love of all things cute and fluffy just don’t spill.” I did fairly good and was attempting to appease my paramedic by “not taking my foot off the gas until told”, when tragedy struck- the cup began to slide across the dash. My only saving grace was that it was sliding toward the paramedic and he caught it not wanting to be drenched. He lovingly told me that had it been falling towards me he would have let it spill.

After the cup torture, came the timed test. Getting across town by a designated time limit and knowing that for every minute you are late you will have to do it again. It is funny how impending torture can make you drive faster. By the end of the day, the paramedic was impressed with my progress and said next time I will be driving lights and sirens…oh fun. Don’t get me wrong, I want to run code three eventually, but I am terrified at the thought of having to speed in a giant vehicle that definitely doesn’t stop on a dime. Oh well, guess I will cross that bridge as it comes.

So, here I am with three months left of probation and wondering what the next shift will have in store.”

It still brings a smile to my face thinking of the firehouse and my old crew no matter how much I was teased and prodded. Yet it no longer causes my heart to ache with longing and wallow in self pity. Yes, I lost this dream: it was stripped from me by a split second accident and a doctor that didn’t truly listen, but I will find a new dream-there will always be a new dream. In fact, the fabrics of passion are weaving a new path for my heart to follow.

No matter what happens, or how life tears away the only thing you can see, don’t be afraid; for there will always be a dream to follow and a call to light the passion in your soul. Dare to dream and dream again as many times as necessary. 

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To all the people seeking truth and creating life- keep chasing the light!

Dreams Lost

It is a strange sensation to realize you don’t really recognize yourself anymore. To wake up, look in a mirror, and wonder what happened to the person that you thought you were. I’m not sure whether it is a good or a bad thing that I have changed: perhaps time will tell.

The fires of passion are fickle little beasts that can consume you whole and then leave you dry. One day you are willing to stand in front of a speeding semi if it would help your cause and slowly, without noticing the change, you simply don’t care anymore. I don’t want to give the impression that hope is dying; the exact same thing happens in reverse. Simple little things that I never ever cared about before, I am now giving lectures on to anyone willing to listen.

So, is this shifting of dreams just the normal path of life, or am I missing something crucial? Has something happened without me noticing that now has me spinning out of control? Is there a force in action that I need to be battling to stop these changes, or can I simply ride it out and see where I end up? Perhaps I am just questioning myself because I question everything in life.

My birthday just passed and I am even further into needing to be an adult. Yet, try as I might, everything I thought I had figured out has crumbled away. Everything I thought I wanted to do with my life is gone- slowly stripped away by broken dreams and harsh reality.

On the other hand, I have met the love of my life. He completes me entirely. My love and trust in him has brought me further away from home than I have ever been; and although positive, has completely changed my life. Life in the city is simply different than living in the mountains: not saying better or worse, simply different. However, I wouldn’t trade living in the familiar for the love that I have now. A couple more weeks will mark one year with the man who proved that I do have a soul mate. And as happy as I am being with him I can’t help but feel like something is missing.

A purpose. That is what is missing from my life. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Well, I know that I want to be a wife and a mom and have an amazing home, but until then is missing. I feel like I should be doing something meaningful and helping people. Perhaps that is the influence of growing up being told that you are special, but deep down inside of me I feel that it is true. That I can make a difference. That I can do something. That something somewhere is calling out to me and waiting for me to respond. I keep waiting for the synapses in my brain to connect the dots and provide me an answer, but for now I come up blank.

I know this longing is magnified by my rocky relationship with YHVH. I don’t even feel right calling Him Papa right now with how I have been treating our relationship. I know that needs to be fixed before anything else will make sense. I know that imbalance gravitates outwards and affects everything else. I just don’t know how to fix something when I can’t identify where it is broken. Or maybe that better description would be that it is broken in so many places I don’t know where to start building from again.

Hopefully the next time I write I will have found one of those cracks and filled it in causing the ripple to reverse and bring a little clarity.

Finding Love Part 1

Love, we all look for it and seek to define it. I want to know how my Papa defines it. What is love according to YHVH.

According to Interlinear Scripture Analyzer, the word love appears three hundred and eleven times in two hundred and eighty one verses. It first appears in Genesis 27:4 when Issac is talking about meat. Now if Issac was the first person to have a documented account of using the word love, that would imply that neither Adam and Abraham used the word. While that is much easier to believe with Adam, since he so easily turned on his Isha; I needed to go back to be sure.

The closest thing to love Adam showed Chavah was in Genesis 2:23 when he says “This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Isha because she was taken out of Ish. For this reason man shall leave his father and mother, and be joined to his wife; and they will become one flesh (echad).”

Now, for some reason ready this piece of history and then how he so easily turns saying “the woman whom you gave to be with me.” He never appeared to truly treasure her. Here YHVH fashioned an Isha, the perfect help mate, something so precious and Adam didn’t cherish her. It kind of upsets me, but at the same time it makes me step back and wonder what YHVH has done for me that I haven’t cherished or taken as precious like I should.

Reading through Abraham and Sarah’s story again I was struck by a hard thought. When they enter Egypt Abram asks Sari to say that she is he sister, because he knows that they will see that she is beautiful and want to take her for themselves. She trusts in Abram so much that she agrees to say that she is his sister knowing that it would place her in a potential “danger”. Even when she is taken to the Pharaoh’s courts, she continues to trust in Abram’s judgment.

I honestly don’t think that at the point I am at in my life I would be able to obey my Ish so completely without question and have such unwavering trust in him. I know this, because there is a piece of me that still struggles to trust in Yashua and He has never changed. So, if I have difficulty trusting someone that is the embodiment of trustworthy, how can I trust someone who I know will be tested? So, if I can admit to myself that I don’t yet contain the capability to follow my Ish when he asks me to trust him, why in the world would I expect Papa to bring him into my life.

I can see piece by piece how much more I must focus and work on myself if I want to be anything more than a burden to the one that I was made for. I know that I have the ability to trust inside of me, that I will heal that I am a new creation and that all things are possible through Him who strengthens me. But, just because I know it intellectually does not force the change to happen instantly. Through prayer and perseverance though, I shall become the beacon of light I am made to be.

For those that seek shall find and to those who knock it is opened and those who ask receive. So, I will ask, knock and seek until I am the person I know that I can be. Until I can stand unwavering next to my Ish, because I can trust in him, because I trust fully in Yashua and know that He will be guiding both of us.

 

I find it just a little funny that as I search for the answers to what love is I am uncovering who I am and realizing who I want to be. Papa, hear me now and hear my heart’s cry. I want to be perfected. I need to undergo the transformation that will bring me to the higher calling I know you have set aside for me. I am yours Papa. Where I ran before and sought my own way, I am ready to listen and follow you unwavering.

 

Genesis Reflection One

I started re-reading my bible today from the very beginning. At first I was just reading through knowing that out of all the books Genesis is the one I know best. But then I slowed down and started over and really focused on the words and everything I had studied on it before and it was beautiful.

The love story portrayed in those first few verses is simply priceless. YHVH takes this ugly, void, chaotic mass and sees something precious in it. So, He extends Himself over it and pushes His light into it. Before YHVH puts His Spirit on the mass it is complete darkness, but afterwards the darkness can be separated from the light. So, there is still darkness, but now there is light to see, feel, cherish, and take hold of.

YHVH doesn’t stop there, He also molds and shapes the mass constantly separating and binding up. After each thing He does He blesses the mass.

Then the truly marvelous part, He turns an ugly chaotic void into an Isha by giving her the power to create life. By giving her the ability to bear seed, He is accomplishing something remarkably beautiful.

Yashua will mirror this same scenario. He comes into a dark, desperate, dying, unrighteous world; yet, he still accepts it as his bride. He teaches and grooms showing how to grab hold of the light and depart from darkness. He reforms as he heals the sick, dying, and dead. Finally, he gives his life so that his bride can have life again by taking hold of his life.

To me the comparison really stands out, but I am struggling to put the concept into words. It’s just something that when it hits you it is wow. It made me step back and realize that I once was ugly, void of life, emotion, happiness, love, and chaotic. However, YHVH saw through as dark as my life was and saw something in me that no one else not even I could see. He wrapped Himself around me and introduced light into my life. Then piece by piece he remolded me by loosening all that was unrighteous and unholy and binding love, faith, and obedience. He placed a light in me that I can share through love to bring life into the world- a light so precious and worth more than any jewel. With that He is constantly blessing me and building me up even when I start to look ugly again, He brushed me up, pushes in deeper, and brings my light back full force.

I am an Isha, because my Papa, YHVH, has made me one. I am a bearer of life. I must keep that in the forefront of my mind, because if my light becomes dim it not only harms me, but everyone who then can’t see my light which is my Papa’s love in me.

Creating a Proclimation

Here I am in a new year and wondering how I got here.

I am become more and more aware that I am an adult. That I have a job, bills, and that if I’m not looking out for myself, I am the only one to blame. It seems odd to finally have that feeling of: wow, this is what life is like; while at the same time still feeling just a bit like a kid. I have been struggling a growing through a few things.

I am learning that there is a lot to learn about my body. Over the past few months I have begun to change my diet to eat healthier foods and cut out the junk that I don’t really need. It came as a shock to me to find out that I had taken healthy eating too far and that I actually needed to eat more calories than I was taking in on a regular basis and that I needed even more since I have begun to exercise regularly.

See, my goal is not to lose weight in any of this. In fact, I am very happy with where I am at physically even though the actual number confuses me. My goal is to be able to keep up with the boys in the fire station and to be able to be at 100% throughout my entire twelve hour shift at the hospital. Right now, my endurance and strength just aren’t up to par. On top of all of that, I am still healing from previous injuries to my back, hip, and knee.

My plan of action included integrating yoga into my life on a regular basis. I have actually fallen in love with yoga, and if I haven’t done my yoga for the day I have a longing for it. I did a short session this morning and plan on completing another routine before bed.

The other part of my plan was starting some sort of high impact physical exercise. At first I was kickboxing and now I am doing Jillian Micheals 30-day shred. And if the pain I am feeling now is any indication, by the time I am done with the work out I should be much stronger.

Despite all of this: the eating healthy, exercising, and taking care of me: I still feel…lacking? I’m not sure what the proper word choice should be. I know that I will dress up really nice and proclaim that I am beautiful, because if I’m not the one saying it then no one else will. It kind of wears on you when no one takes a moment to point out that they think you are beautiful, that you were fearfully and wonderfully made. Instead of doing what some of my friends do and say that I am ugly fishing for a compliment; I will walk into the room with a smile, do a little runway strut, spin 360, and compliment myself.  Sometimes I think it annoys my friends, but I have to keep proclaiming that I am truly beautiful if I am going to make myself believe it.

In the bottom of my heart I know that Papa thinks I am so incredibly beautiful and that He believes I am gorgeous even on my very worst day. But, for me to actually truly believe after so many people telling me that I am not is an uphill battle every day and it is only through the strength YHVH gives me that I am able to look in the mirror and be proud of who I see.

On that note, however, I have let my relationship with my Papa slide. Perhaps that is way the little battles day to day are becoming harder for me. I pray every day, but I have made it routine. Something I do out of habit rather than an intimate relationship with my counterpart. I had myself convinced that reading a chapter of my bible every now and then was sufficient because I was busy.

I am standing up to myself now to say “NO!” that is not okay. How dare I proclaim to people that I am a Son of YHVH and believe in His word as the absolute truth when I haven’t read every book there is, let alone every word.

I am going to start from the beginning and read through. I will share questions and experiences with you as I do. I’ll share everything I can. Through reading I will also refocus myself.

I will rekindle the fire that burns within me that is so in love with YHVH. I will have an even more intimate relationship with my Papa than I have ever had before. I will be a Son approved and an Isha to be cherished. I will be the bride ready and waiting for Yashua’s return.

Creating Understanding of My Heart?

I am a saboteur, or a sabotage artist, of my own life: more specifically, my love life.

Whenever I find myself beginning to feel attracted to someone, no matter how small the attraction, I begin searching for reasons why that person would never work with me. The first and easiest reason is spiritual beliefs- if we don’t share similar beliefs then there really is no hope for a future together.

After that I move on to a wide variety of other reasons. Does he smoke? Does he cuss? Is he a liar? How does he feel about sex and intimacy? What are his friends like? What are his plans for his life? Is he a serial dater? Does he drink or use drugs? The list goes on.

I keep my eyes wide open for the first sign that it wouldn’t work. Doing so has very effectively kept me from becoming seriously interested in anyone. Sure, every once in awhile there is a person I like being around, but I’ll always have that flaw in my head, so, I am safe from developing any real feelings. It will never go past being friends. It’s a method, no matter how messed up, that always works.

Or at least, used to always work.

I am now finding myself becoming attracted to a guy I really don’t want to be attracted too and I can’t find anything wrong with him. It is scary and foreign, and happening way to fast. Why can’t I find a flaw? Why can’t my defenses be activated? Why am I letting him wriggle his way right to my heart without putting in any real effort?

I just wish he would stop saying things that make me want to open myself up completely to him. I don’t want to be hurt, but how do I protect myself when my emotions will not listen to me.

How is it even possible? Love doesn’t happen in an instant. It doesn’t hit you like a speeding train. You fall slowly in love with someone. Right? I don’t believe in first sight, that is simply lust…but then why since the moment I heard his voice all I want to do is talk to him, learn who he is, and investigate every inch of his inner being.

Listening to him explain something gives me this warm peaceful feeling. It isn’t like those crazy butterflies from high school; it is calm and nice, and definitely doesn’t make you want to throw up. It is kind of like your soul is being caressed in a soothing manner, as if someone was playing with your hair. And that my friends, is a very scary sensation.

I don’t know how it happened. I honestly can’t figure it out at all. It should be completely and utterly impossible to have these raging emotions after only a week. It can’t be real, can it? I don’t want to like him, because to like him this fast would be crazy. Maybe that is the answer: I am completely and utterly insane. There we go a logical answer. I mean I don’t even know him, so there is no possible way I could truly like him.

Yet…all the little parts of him that I have seen so far, I like a lot. Each time he reveals another little piece of himself I find that I like it a lot. Is that what falling in love is? Loving every little part of the person as they reveal it to you?

The thought that he wasn’t at all attracted to me reduced to a sobbing mess running to my best friend needing some form of advice to pull myself together.

And then just like that, he had me hooked again. I am fully aware that this could hurt, that in all honesty it could crush some small part of me, perhaps it could even make it near impossible to believe in romance for a long time. However, knowing all of this, I can’t stop myself. I have tried and tried again to reason myself out of these emotions, but no matter what I do my heart refuses to listen.

I don’t want to be falling in love with someone I barely know, I don’t want to be left heartbroken, I don’t want to lose control of my emotions, I don’t want to fall any deeper into these emotions, I don’t want it at all. Yet, as unreasonable, unimaginable, as all of this is, I simply cannot convince myself to stop.

So here is to jumping blindly into a body of water and not knowing if it is deep or shallow: if it will leave me paralyzed and in agony, or the ever small chance that it is deep and will be the greatest and most beautiful dive anyone has ever made before.

The Art of Creating

Every second of every day, with every breath we take, we are creating. Now, the choice is what to create. We can create life, love, happiness, growth, art, peace; or, we can create fear, stagnation, hate, strife, and even death.

It has become my core belief that everything I do creates something because of the choice I made. Knowing that I have that power means I have the obligation to use it. Like Spiderman taught us, “With great power comes great responsibility.”  The tricky thing is that everyone has this power. Every single human being has the potential to create. Again the question falls to: what do you create?

I chose to create life, to create love in the footsteps of the great creator, my Papa, YHVH.

I guess the next question is, how? I am still working on that one and will tell you as soon as I have the answer. I think it is something you have to choose every second of every day. With every breath I breathe I have to choose what I am going to create in that moment and who I am going to be.

Breathe in. Choice: create life. Breathe out. Choice: be a Son of YHVH.

And then, one day, you find that making the choice to create life and love and live the life of a Son is as natural to you as breathing. To not do so is to not breathe. And like not breathing, if you do it long enough pain fills your being and begs you to take in that much needed breath or your very survival is at risk.

So I chose to breathe. I chose to live. I chose to create like my Papa creates. I chose to create life and love with every second of everyday.

 

created Sept. 20 for one of my best friends and sister’s birthday.

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