I'm going to start keeping a running post including all the sweet and entertaining compliments I receive from my elderly patients. I'll update it periodically as some good ones come around. There have been some real doozies that I don't want to ever forget. Here goes.
1. "You sure are sweet. Are you single? I have a real nice nephew I'd like to set you up with. Of course, he might be a little old for you. He's 62. What do you think?"
2. "Did you know there's a song out there that I think was written about you? It goes something like, 'Honey, can you please a man the way your body says you can?'"
3. "You remind me of the good Lord Jesus. You wash up people's feet real good!" (This was said by the same guy in number 2. He has also invited me to dinner several times, saying that he hates to think I might be lonely on a Friday night, so if I don't have a boyfriend by the next time he comes in, he'd like to invite me over to have his wife cook for all of us.)
4. "Well, aren't you just plumb cute?" . . . And then later, "You're just so dern cute!" . . . Even later, "You're just the plumb cutest thing I ever saw." (Needless to say, he's my new favorite.)
5. Female patient with severe dementia: "Whoa, I just saw a good-lookin' man!"
Daughter: "No, I don't think you did . . . Where did he go?"
Patient: "Right there!" (pointing directly at me.)
6. "I heard your voice on that answerin' machine, and I said, 'Well, that's my sweetheart! I better call her back!'"
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
It's A Beautiful Life
Today marks 4 years since I graduated from BYU, which means I've now been out of college as long as I was in it. Time passes by so quickly.
As I was looking back through some of my old pictures and getting a little teary-eyed as I thought about all the people I miss, I also got a little angry with myself. See, when I truly consider it, I am in awe at all I was able to experience in my short time there. The friendships! The temple visits! The pool parties! The hiking! The dancing! The travel! The mud kickball! The picnics! The Alias, Toy Story, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter marathons! The colorful paint and chalk fights! The donut shenanigans and Mustache Mondays and dinner group and midnight bike rides and dollar movies and ice skating and ice blocking and two-story-tall snowmen and roller-coasters and at least a hundred times when I got to laugh till I cried. And oh, for heaven's sake, THE NACHO PARTIES! And to think that, between all that, I even found time to get a degree? Amazing.
So I really do have countless beautiful memories of those years. Yet (here's where the anger comes in) there were still days I wasted by feeling sorry for myself, thinking I was nothing more than stupid, lazy, and ugly, and therefore doomed for educational, financial, and romantic failure. I see now how utterly and ridiculously dumb that was. My only real failure was giving power to those thoughts and neglecting to see how incredibly full and blessed my life was. I hope to never repeat that same mistake.
When I was checking out those old pictures, I couldn't help but think that I like the way I looked back then. I weighed significantly less than I do now, I had a more defined jaw line, I liked the haircuts I had, and though I didn't necessarily have clothes that were any prettier than those I currently have, I feel like I wore them well since they fit better. I could probably keep going on and on about other external markers of "pretty" that were present before and have been changed since then, but still, as I mentioned before, I was spending a lot of my time feeling ugly and inadequate. Though I'm not immune to such feelings now, I am certain they are less frequent, despite all the changes my body has endured. Why? Because I've finally learned and internalized a little something that I wish I'd have known much sooner, and that is this:
Beautiful is as Beautiful does.
That is to say, when going about the business of increasing your personal beauty, you will find the greatest success in the doing--as opposed to the donning--of beautiful things.
So now, after all that exposition, let's get down to the nitty-gritty. If you are reading this, chances are that you fall into one of two categories:
1. A Russian spambot that deceptively increases my page views by 200%, or
2. One of those folks to whom I owe great thanks, as you have shared beautiful moments with me, thus building my beauty, one wonderful memory at a time.
Barring your being the former, I sincerely thank you for helping me during what I consider the formative years of my life. Though I didn't always feel it then, I can see it now when I reminisce. My brand of beauty is woven from the fabric of life's joyful times, its challenges, both failed and surmounted, and its neverending supply of scary and fun adventures. It is virtually weatherproof, fireproof, age-proof and devil-proof, and it has become a rather cozy home for my soul.
So, should you ever need help building your own beauty, don't hesitate to call me. You need someone to dance, sing, laugh, cry, shout, whisper, or just be with you? I'll be there. Stretchy pants and all.
 |
| Just a 21-year-old (read: baby) Katelyn. |
So I really do have countless beautiful memories of those years. Yet (here's where the anger comes in) there were still days I wasted by feeling sorry for myself, thinking I was nothing more than stupid, lazy, and ugly, and therefore doomed for educational, financial, and romantic failure. I see now how utterly and ridiculously dumb that was. My only real failure was giving power to those thoughts and neglecting to see how incredibly full and blessed my life was. I hope to never repeat that same mistake.
When I was checking out those old pictures, I couldn't help but think that I like the way I looked back then. I weighed significantly less than I do now, I had a more defined jaw line, I liked the haircuts I had, and though I didn't necessarily have clothes that were any prettier than those I currently have, I feel like I wore them well since they fit better. I could probably keep going on and on about other external markers of "pretty" that were present before and have been changed since then, but still, as I mentioned before, I was spending a lot of my time feeling ugly and inadequate. Though I'm not immune to such feelings now, I am certain they are less frequent, despite all the changes my body has endured. Why? Because I've finally learned and internalized a little something that I wish I'd have known much sooner, and that is this:
Beautiful is as Beautiful does.
That is to say, when going about the business of increasing your personal beauty, you will find the greatest success in the doing--as opposed to the donning--of beautiful things.
So now, after all that exposition, let's get down to the nitty-gritty. If you are reading this, chances are that you fall into one of two categories:
1. A Russian spambot that deceptively increases my page views by 200%, or
2. One of those folks to whom I owe great thanks, as you have shared beautiful moments with me, thus building my beauty, one wonderful memory at a time.
Barring your being the former, I sincerely thank you for helping me during what I consider the formative years of my life. Though I didn't always feel it then, I can see it now when I reminisce. My brand of beauty is woven from the fabric of life's joyful times, its challenges, both failed and surmounted, and its neverending supply of scary and fun adventures. It is virtually weatherproof, fireproof, age-proof and devil-proof, and it has become a rather cozy home for my soul.
So, should you ever need help building your own beauty, don't hesitate to call me. You need someone to dance, sing, laugh, cry, shout, whisper, or just be with you? I'll be there. Stretchy pants and all.
Friday, March 20, 2015
Meaning Not To
When I was young and got chastised for accidentally hurting my siblings (whether physically or emotionally), breaking or dropping something, or making a mess or any other sort of careless mistake, my instant complaint was as follows:
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"
And to this whiny defense, my mother's response was almost always, "Yes, but you didn't mean not to."
First, I'll say as a side-note that "You didn't mean not to" is second only to "That's not the issue" as my least favorite of mother's disciplinary catch-phrases. But what is the issue in this post is that, to my recollection, this famous rebuttal never failed to put an end to my protesting.
My immediate willingness to throw up the white flag can not be attributed as much to my begrudging acknowledgement of the correctness of her point as much as to my frustration at not actually even understanding what she meant by it. I seriously had no idea what she was saying. Not even a little bit. I even remember thinking one time that I should tell her that what she had said just didn't make any sense. The words "didn't mean not to" registered in my mind as some sort of disjointed, ungrammatical phrase--perhaps not too much unlike what I imagine baby Yoda to have sounded like before he developed his superlative command of syntax.
Recently, however, something a friend said reminded me of this exchange, and since then, I've been contemplating the meaning of mama's implied charge: to mean not to. As oddly phrased as it is, it has changed the way I view my daily interactions with my co-workers, friends, family, and strangers. I've come to the conclusion that to mean not to is about considering how my actions will affect others, then choosing to avoid those actions that will yield negative results.
It's about rejecting my selfish impulses.
It's about being careful, diligent, and wise with my words and deeds.
It's about reducing the pain and heartache that could be inflicted on others, just by putting some extra effort into suppressing any unkind words I'm tempted to speak.
It's about letting go of all the grudges, petty disagreements, and envy that create rifts between my loved ones and me.
It's about choosing patience when impatience is my visceral reaction.
It's about giving up my vanity-inspired pursuit for constant approval and instead offering praise to the unassuming souls who may feel they are not worthy of it.
It's about listening instead of interrupting and forgoing pride in favor of humility--allowing peace and harmony the victory over my need to be proven right.
Really, what it boils down to is that it's about charity. I've spent a lot of my life pondering on what charity truly means and making efforts to embody it, to nurture any instincts I have in the way of loving people. I try to love with action. I try to love with encouraging words, meaningful service, thoughtful gifts, valuable time, and long-lasting, soul-healing hugs. I truly believe that most people in this world try to love on purpose--it comes quite naturally to mean to love. But what could happen if we would also mean not to hurt?
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"
And to this whiny defense, my mother's response was almost always, "Yes, but you didn't mean not to."
First, I'll say as a side-note that "You didn't mean not to" is second only to "That's not the issue" as my least favorite of mother's disciplinary catch-phrases. But what is the issue in this post is that, to my recollection, this famous rebuttal never failed to put an end to my protesting.
My immediate willingness to throw up the white flag can not be attributed as much to my begrudging acknowledgement of the correctness of her point as much as to my frustration at not actually even understanding what she meant by it. I seriously had no idea what she was saying. Not even a little bit. I even remember thinking one time that I should tell her that what she had said just didn't make any sense. The words "didn't mean not to" registered in my mind as some sort of disjointed, ungrammatical phrase--perhaps not too much unlike what I imagine baby Yoda to have sounded like before he developed his superlative command of syntax.
Recently, however, something a friend said reminded me of this exchange, and since then, I've been contemplating the meaning of mama's implied charge: to mean not to. As oddly phrased as it is, it has changed the way I view my daily interactions with my co-workers, friends, family, and strangers. I've come to the conclusion that to mean not to is about considering how my actions will affect others, then choosing to avoid those actions that will yield negative results.
It's about rejecting my selfish impulses.
It's about being careful, diligent, and wise with my words and deeds.
It's about reducing the pain and heartache that could be inflicted on others, just by putting some extra effort into suppressing any unkind words I'm tempted to speak.
It's about letting go of all the grudges, petty disagreements, and envy that create rifts between my loved ones and me.
It's about choosing patience when impatience is my visceral reaction.
It's about giving up my vanity-inspired pursuit for constant approval and instead offering praise to the unassuming souls who may feel they are not worthy of it.
It's about listening instead of interrupting and forgoing pride in favor of humility--allowing peace and harmony the victory over my need to be proven right.
Really, what it boils down to is that it's about charity. I've spent a lot of my life pondering on what charity truly means and making efforts to embody it, to nurture any instincts I have in the way of loving people. I try to love with action. I try to love with encouraging words, meaningful service, thoughtful gifts, valuable time, and long-lasting, soul-healing hugs. I truly believe that most people in this world try to love on purpose--it comes quite naturally to mean to love. But what could happen if we would also mean not to hurt?
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Anything But Nothing
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." That's great advice, right? But think of what a different and infinitely more marvelous world it would be if we would equally emphasize the teaching that if you can say something nice, you should say it. All of it. Regardless of the potential for awkwardness. Regardless of the possibility of coming on too strong. Regardless of whether or not the recipient of your affections echoes and returns your sentiments.
It's a sad time when giving, passionate people start to feel that their love for someone is only worth cultivating and expressing if they already have at least a 90% assurance that it is equally reciprocated.
It's a sad time when past rejections cause brave people to fear being bold and honest with someone who means the world to them.
It's a sad time when people are more comfortable using the anonymity of the internet to waste their energy, their power of words, in fawning over a watered-down, 1-dimensional view of someone they don't even know than they are in sharing their admiration and respect for those they are intimately connected with daily.
It's a sad time when generous, beautiful, flawed-but-faithful people start to doubt themselves and their goodness (not just their inherent gifts and fortunes, but especially the goodness they have learned and earned) simply because they don't receive the validation from those they are closest to.
None of this is intended to imply that there is no place for anonymous acts of kindness, that our goodness is only worthwhile when adequately praised by others, or that self-esteem is forged from anything other than one's own inner strength. But when hard times come and that confidence wanes, and the most beautiful, complex, incredible people start fearing they may have been way off base in appreciating themselves, the kind words a sincere friend has to offer may just be what reminds them how irrevocably worthwhile they are.
Express your love, no matter how small. Shout it from the rooftops, write it in a note, share it in an embrace, or anything else.
Anything but nothing.
It's a sad time when giving, passionate people start to feel that their love for someone is only worth cultivating and expressing if they already have at least a 90% assurance that it is equally reciprocated.
It's a sad time when past rejections cause brave people to fear being bold and honest with someone who means the world to them.
It's a sad time when people are more comfortable using the anonymity of the internet to waste their energy, their power of words, in fawning over a watered-down, 1-dimensional view of someone they don't even know than they are in sharing their admiration and respect for those they are intimately connected with daily.
It's a sad time when generous, beautiful, flawed-but-faithful people start to doubt themselves and their goodness (not just their inherent gifts and fortunes, but especially the goodness they have learned and earned) simply because they don't receive the validation from those they are closest to.
None of this is intended to imply that there is no place for anonymous acts of kindness, that our goodness is only worthwhile when adequately praised by others, or that self-esteem is forged from anything other than one's own inner strength. But when hard times come and that confidence wanes, and the most beautiful, complex, incredible people start fearing they may have been way off base in appreciating themselves, the kind words a sincere friend has to offer may just be what reminds them how irrevocably worthwhile they are.
Express your love, no matter how small. Shout it from the rooftops, write it in a note, share it in an embrace, or anything else.
Anything but nothing.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
This weekend, I came down to Raleigh to visit with Brad, Natalie, and Emmett. Greg and Jayne came with Penny and Wilco as well, so we have been making a big ol' party of things. It has been a fantastic time, despite the exhaustion that inevitably ensues when we stay up until 3 AM visiting with each other, and it has been wonderful to spend time with my brothers, their awesome wives, and my sweet niece and nephews.
But sometimes when I look into these precious children's eyes, I wonder if I'll ever have my own. I know this may be the most obvious statement ever made on this blog, but I want a family so badly. I want to be a wife and a mother. Most of the time I feel like those things are all in store for me someday, but sometimes it feels like a dream for some distant future, perhaps not even in this life. And that's ok if that's what Heavenly Father's plan for me entails, but I'd be lying if I said it felt ok right at this moment. Tonight when I was snuggling those babies, my heart hurt, my throat got tight, and my eyes kept getting soggy. I didn't want to have a breakdown in front of my family, so I drove to the temple. I'm sitting here now, and even though the grounds are closed and therefore the gates are locked, even just sitting and looking at it fills me with this intense peace and comfort about everything.
I have now started five or six prayers trying to express my despair with my current situation and pleading with Heavenly Father for some answers regarding whether I should stay where I am or go somewhere else to seek these things. But each time I have tried that prayer, His Spirit has quieted my fears, spoken peace to my soul, and removed all those frustrated words from my vocabulary. I still don't have any specific answers, but I have what I need: the quiet, calm assurance that He knows me, He hears me, He is looking out for me, and He intends to bless me with joy, beauty, and love so far beyond anything I could even try and conjure up in my daydreams. And that's enough for now.
But sometimes when I look into these precious children's eyes, I wonder if I'll ever have my own. I know this may be the most obvious statement ever made on this blog, but I want a family so badly. I want to be a wife and a mother. Most of the time I feel like those things are all in store for me someday, but sometimes it feels like a dream for some distant future, perhaps not even in this life. And that's ok if that's what Heavenly Father's plan for me entails, but I'd be lying if I said it felt ok right at this moment. Tonight when I was snuggling those babies, my heart hurt, my throat got tight, and my eyes kept getting soggy. I didn't want to have a breakdown in front of my family, so I drove to the temple. I'm sitting here now, and even though the grounds are closed and therefore the gates are locked, even just sitting and looking at it fills me with this intense peace and comfort about everything.
I have now started five or six prayers trying to express my despair with my current situation and pleading with Heavenly Father for some answers regarding whether I should stay where I am or go somewhere else to seek these things. But each time I have tried that prayer, His Spirit has quieted my fears, spoken peace to my soul, and removed all those frustrated words from my vocabulary. I still don't have any specific answers, but I have what I need: the quiet, calm assurance that He knows me, He hears me, He is looking out for me, and He intends to bless me with joy, beauty, and love so far beyond anything I could even try and conjure up in my daydreams. And that's enough for now.
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