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Need an
inspirational thought...something to get you through the hustle and
bustle of the holiday season? Well, you've come to the right
place. Check here regularly for inspirational thoughts about
Christmas. (POSTED DAILY...WELL...ALMOST)
2004
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HAPPY
BIRTHDAY!!!!!!
| December 1 |
Ashley Bragg &
Deja Shirley |
|
December 3 |
Ryan Humble &
Thomas Shields |
| December 4 |
Ashley Lehney |
| December 5 |
Tiffany (Parker)
De Vivo |
| December 8 |
Brittanay Baker |
| December 9 |
Amy Bragg |
| December 11 |
Tara Turner |
| December 12 |
Adam Wood |
| December 13 |
Andrea Moon |
| December 15 |
Andrew Logan |
| December 16 |
Elgin Gregg |
| December 23 |
Allison Post |
| December 28 |
Bonnie Schultz
& Jeff Stewart |
| December 31 |
Tyler Lacy |
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**********
(Sunday, December
12) God's
love is what drives
Him to seek us even when we hide,
to give us rain and life and
refreshment even when we run,
to extend to us a hand as we struggle
in the mire even when we doubt.
God's love is so great that
He won't give up on us
even when we've given up on Him. * * * * * * * * *
* *
(Friday, December 10)
This is
Christmas: not the tinsel, not the giving and receiving, not even
the carols, but the humble heart that receives anew that wondrous gift,
the Christ.
--Frank McKibben
printed in 3001
Things We Love About Christmas * * * * * * * * *
* *
(Tuesday,
December 7)
Working Christmas
Day
By Victoria Schlintz
It was an unusually quiet day in the emergency room on December twenty-fifth.
Quiet, that is, except for the nurses who were standing around the nurses'
station grumbling about having to work Christmas Day.
I was triage nurse that day and had just been out to the waiting room to clean
up. Since there were no patients waiting to be seen at the time, I came back to
the nurses' station for a cup of hot cider from the crockpot someone had brought
in for Christmas. Just then an admitting clerk came back and told me I had five
patients waiting to be evaluated.
I whined, "Five, how did I get five? I was just out there and no one was in
the waiting room."
"Well, there are five signed in." So I went straight out and called
the first name. Five bodies showed up at my triage desk, a pale petite woman and
four small children in somewhat rumpled clothing.
"Are you all sick?" I asked suspiciously.
"Yes," she said weakly, and lowered her head.
"Okay," I replied, unconvinced, "who's first?" One by one
they sat down, and I asked the usual preliminary questions. When it came to
descriptions of their presenting problems, things got a little vague. Two
of the children had headaches, but the headaches weren't accompanied by the
normal body language of holding the head or trying to keep it still or squinting
or grimacing. Two children had earaches, but only one could tell me which ear
was affected. The mother complained of a cough, but seemed to work to produce
it.
Something was wrong with the picture. Our hospital policy, however, was not to
turn away any patient, so we would see them. When I explained to the mother that
it might be a little while before a doctor saw her because, even though the
waiting room was empty, ambulances had brought in several, more critical
patients, in the back, she responded, "Take your time, it's warm in
here." She turned and, with a smile, guided her brood into the waiting
room.
On a hunch (call it nursing judgment), I checked the chart after the admitting
clerk had finished registering the family. No address - they were homeless. The
waiting room was warm.
I looked out at the family huddled by the Christmas tree. The littlest one was
pointing at the television and exclaiming something to her mother. The oldest
one was looking at her reflection in an ornament on the Christmas tree.
I went back to the nurses station and mentioned we had a homeless family in the
waiting room - a mother and four children between four and ten years of age. The
nurses, grumbling about working Christmas, turned to compassion for a family
just trying to get warm on Christmas. The team went into action, much as we do
when there's a medical emergency. But this one was a Christmas emergency.
We were all offered a free meal in the hospital cafeteria on Christmas Day, so
we claimed that meal and prepared a banquet for our Christmas guests.
We needed presents. We put together oranges and apples in a basket one of our
vendors had brought the department for Christmas. We made little goodie bags of
stickers we borrowed from the X-ray department, candy that one of the doctors
had brought the nurses, crayons the hospital had from a recent coloring contest,
nurse bear buttons the hospital had given the nurses at annual training day and
little fuzzy bears that nurses clipped onto their stethoscopes. We also found a
mug, a package of powdered cocoa, and a few other odds and ends. We pulled
ribbon and wrapping paper and bells off the department's decorations that we had
all contributed to. As seriously as we met physical needs of the patients that
came to us that day, our team
worked to meet the needs, and exceed the expectations, of a family who just
wanted to be warm on Christmas Day.
We took turns joining the Christmas party in the waiting room. Each nurse took
his or her lunch break with the family, choosing to spend their "off
duty" time with these people whose laughter and delightful chatter became
quite contagious.
When it was my turn, I sat with them at the little banquet table we had created
in the waiting room. We talked for a while about dreams. The four children
were telling me about what they would like to be when they grow up. The
six-year-old started the conversation. "I want to be a nurse and help
people," she declared.
After the four children had shared their dreams, I looked at the Mom. She
smiled and said, "I just want my family to be safe, warm and content - just
like they are right now."
The "party" lasted most of the shift, before we were able to locate a
shelter that would take the family in on Christmas Day. The mother had asked
that their charts be pulled, so these patients were not seen that day in the
emergency department. But they were treated.
As they walked to the door to leave, the four-year-old came running back, gave
me a hug and whispered, "Thanks for being our angels today." As she
ran back to join her family, they all waved one more time before the door
closed. I turned around slowly to get back to work, a little embarrassed for the
tears in my eyes. There stood a group of my coworkers, one with a box of
tissues, which she passed around to each nurse who worked a Christmas Day she
will never forget.
==============
From
the CCED Story List
* * * * * * * * *
* *
(Monday,
December 6)
THE SANDS OF
CHRISTMAS
By Michael Marks
I had no Christmas spirit when I
breathed a weary sigh
and looked across the table where
the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn't finished and
the car I had to fix;
my stocks were down another point,
the Chargers lost by six.
And so with only minutes ' till my
son got home from school
I gave up on the drudgery and
grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were
about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to
catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in
shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind,
just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have
stood before a laden sleigh,
eight Humvees ran a column right
behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the
tank, not one was past his teens,
their eyes were hard as polished
flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor
with their rifles shouldered tight,
their dearest wish for Christmas,
just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered
down against the wind
to share a scrap of mail and
dreams of going home again.
There wasn't much at all to put
their lonely hearts at ease;
they had no Christmas turkey, just
a pack of MREs.
They didn't have a garland or a
stocking I could see.
They didn't need an ornament--they
lacked a Christmas tree.
They didn't have a present even
though it was tradition;
the only boxes I could see were
labeled "ammunition."
I felt a little tug and found my
son now by my side.
He asked me what it was I feared,
and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and
held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as
I whispered in his ear.
There's nothing wrong my little
son, for safe we sleep tonight.
Our heroes stand on foreign land
to give us all the right
to worry on the things in life
that mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering if we will be
the next to fall.
He looked at me as children do and
said it's always right
to thank the ones who help us and
perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills
and sat to draft a note
to thank the many far from home,
and this is what we wrote:
God bless you all and keep you
safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and
that you're not alone.
The gift you give you share with
all, a present every day.
You give the gift of liberty, and
that we can't repay.
Copyright 2003 Michael Marks:
"I freely submit this poem for reprint without reservation--this
is an open and grateful tribute to the men and women who serve every
day to keep our nation safe."
(I received this
through an email subscription to "Mikey's
Funnies." Mikey had added a personal note...
"This is sent in honor of my
Marine son, Brian, and the 5,000 other Marines and Sailors, who are
shipping out to the Persian Gulf from San Diego today. (And, of
course, with gratefulness to those already there...)" Mikey)
* * * * * * * * *
* * (Saturday,
December 4) Probably
the reason
we all go so haywire
at Christmastime,
with the endless, unrestrained,
and often silly
buying of gifts,
is that we don't quite know
how to put
our love into words.
--Leo Tolstoy from
Everything I Need to Know
About Christmas I Learned from Jesus
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