Be Still My Soul

We come into this world with a huge imperfection...an enormous hole in our soul. It is our job to learn how to fill this hole. Some try to fill it with alcohol, drugs, sex, food. Others with mysticism, psychic encounters, meditation, AA, shopping, or self punishment. This book is filled with stories of the people I have encountered in my life’s journey, and how they have helped to fill the hole in my soul.









THE MAKING OF A NURSE



Grandma Grace died on August 4, 1954. I was six years old and stood outside her bedroom with my nose pressed against the window pane watching my Grandpa cry, his face in his hands.

I walked around the side of the house to the porch and found my dad holding Mom in his arms while she cried on his shoulder.

“Your grandma just passed away,” Dad said to me.

“I already know,” I replied,

Dad gave me a puzzled look, turned back to comfort my Mom.

I understood a lot despite my young age, having spent most of that summer in 1954 at my grandparent’s home while my mom and my Uncle Richard helped care for Grandma during her final days battling leukemia. I’d watched my family give Grandma pain medication, bathe her, turn her over, change her clothes, and empty the colostomy bag she’d worn for many years.

I liked that she was in her own bed in her own home. I also liked that my brother and I could go in and climb up on the bed and visit with her on the days when she felt well enough. On the days that she didn’t, I’d stand outside her window and wave. She called me her little butterfly at the window.

As sad as it was for me to lose my beloved grandmother, the way she died seemed so peaceful and natural that I’ve carried the memory of it with me my entire nursing career.

Great-Grandpa's Chair

I can't believe the last time I posted was September 2009. The small rocking chair on the left is one that's been in our family for over a hundred years. My mother had it in her home and it was stuck away in a bedroom and broken in places. I traded her a brand new rocking chair I had in my house for it and after several hundred dollars in restoration, it's now sitting in my living room. And the best part is, it still has all the old squeeks! The restoration didn't ruin it. The rocking chair was originally purchased by my Great Grandfather Walter Kimzey. He was born in 1860 and died in 1936. Lots of my family members were rocked in this chair when they were babies and young children. I have a favorite memory of my Grandmother, Grace, rocking me in it.

When I was around five years old, I was staying with my grandparents and had been allowed to play with the little girl across the street. When my Grandpa, Bob Kimzey, came to get me, I refused to go home and instead I climbed on top of the little girl's bunkbed and got back in the corner where he couldn't reach me. Finally, after what must have been a long and embarrassing time for my Grandpa, I got down and started for home. On the way, Grandpa swatted my bottom a couple of times for being so disobedient. Though I certainly deserved it, and it didn't hurt anything but my feelings, I was shocked that my normally mild mannered Grandpa had spanked me. When we got back in the house, I was crying like my heart was broken and Grandma picked me up and rocked me in the old chair. While she rocked, she told me what a mean old man Grandpa was to have spanked me. Grandma was really ornery. I did feel guilty because I knew I'd deserved the spanking, but I sure enjoyed Grandma's sympathy