What do you know about Sarajevo? I remember a number of current events from my childhood, the space shuttle Challenger, Operation Dessert Storm, the Rwandan Genocide. I remembered the name Sarajevo, but I didn’t know much about what had happened there.
I found Flowers for Sarajevo, by John McCutcheon, illustrated by Kristy Caldwell, at our library. I don’t even think I opened it, but the cover art was so arresting I was sure I would like it.
Weeks passed as it floated around our house. I couldn’t seem to sit down long enough to read it to everyone. We already read aloud for school each day and I have been flirting with homeschool burnout; adding more books didn’t feel doable.
My mom finally read the book to the kids one weekend when she was here for a visit. She reported it made her cry, along with my youngest daughter.
Finally, I read it. To myself. The kids were in bed as I paged through the story. The illustrations were as amazing as the cover. They reminded me of graphic novel art, and the colors and lines communicate such beauty. I finished it at 1:30 a.m. on a night when my own home felt like a war zone.
I worked another night shift this past weekend, and a brief chat with another nurse on the floor that night reminded me how easy I had it with my assignment. I was busy, but I had time to take good care of my patients, and make plans for how I would spend my time over the course of the shift that, for the most part, weren’t waylaid by unexpected occurrences. At the end of the shift, I came in to say goodbye to one of my patients, and she asked if she could give me a hug. I said yes.
Since I work very part-time, if a patient is having a longer stay, there is a very good chance that the eight hours I spend with them will be forgettable. I do my best to make their lives better in the short time that I spend with them, but I don’t hang onto any expectations that it will make a big difference for them or their families.
Despite the fact that I obviously made impression on a patient, I left wishing I’d been able to do more. As I walked towards the stairs on my way home, I absently pulled my phone out, opened up Instagram, and started scrolling. One of my friends had tagged a post with someone else we went to school with. I clicked through to her Instagram, then to her website. If the site is any indication, she’s successful and happy.
I knew her because we lived in the same suite freshman year. She lived next door to me and for some reason, she didn’t like me. She took it upon herself to “fix” me, since I didn’t wear makeup or even really know how to use it, let alone how to shape my brows properly.
In 2015, we upgraded from a full size mattress to a queen. Our Ikea bed frame, which pre-dated our marriage, was no longer able to hold our mattress. I had a good idea of what I wanted to replace it, but I couldn’t find anything that I was willing to pay for that looked like what I wanted. I looked for plans to build a frame, but I didn’t really like any of them, either, so I decided to do it on my own.
Here are my original plans.
I built my frame out of 2×4’s, 1×10’s, 1×4’s, and some scrap wood.
I based the 2×4 frame’s measurements on the dimensions of the mattress, with a little added width and length (1-2 inches) so that we could change the sheets without too much of a struggle.
Everyone helped.
I’ve found tremendous relief in the fact that it is no longer considered scientifically sound to lump men and women into one muddy pot where everyone is human, but just barely. There were two problems with that for me. One, men and women ARE different. And two, when we generalize, men usually win. And when women lose, everyone loses.
So today I want to talk about two of the many books I’ve picked up recently as I have made improving my marriage my job. The Female Brain, and The Male Brain, both by Louann Brizendine, M.D. I didn’t expect to learn so much about relating to other human beings, or that it would change the way I think about my kids.
This week, I’m with my husband at a marriage intensive in Branson, MO. It’s not an enrichment for people who just want to make their marriage better. It’s for people who have hit the wall.
There are times when you’re stuck and it’s easy to pretend you’re still moving. Other times, it’s so obvious that you are stuck that pretending otherwise would be folly.
We had reached the latter situation.
