So, my friend Becca and I love to sing songs in rounds. We made up a round with a few of my other friends. We mixed 2 parts of Fee's "Glory to God Forever" song and "The Stand" by Hillsong. Everytime "My Hope Is In You" by Aaron Shust comes on K-Love, I always think it's "Can't Get Over You" by Anthem Lights. It hit me the other day, "If you get them mixed up, then it would be a fantastic round!" So, I kept repeating the songs on my iPod, singing different parts of each song together, and they work miraculously well during the choruses. I got so excited! So here are the words to each song so you can play with words and rounds too :)
"Can't Get Over You":
I love the way You love like no other
It's got nothing to do with anything that I do.
And time and time again You've forgiven me
So this time I choose to stay here with You
Chorus:
Hold me
Pull me just a little bit closer
I don't want to lose this moment
Your love has covered me and now
I can't get over You,
I can't get over You,
I can't get over You,
I just can't get over You!
Here in the arms of my Father only grace can be found
So I lay my fears down
Nothing is the same anymore
You've changed me from the inside out
Now my heart is beating and it's singing:
Chorus
I can't get over the way Your love stays the same, O Lord.
Even through the good and the bad times,
You stay the same.
So my song will remain:
Chorus
"My Hope Is In You":
I meet with You and my soul sings out
As your Word throws doubt far away
I sing to You and my heart cries,
"Holy! Hallelujah! Father, You're near!"
Chorus:
My hope is in You, Lord,
All the day long.
I won't be shaken by drought or storm.
The peace that passes understanding is my song
And I sing my hope is in You, Lord!
I wait for You and my soul finds rests
In my selfishness You show me grace
I worship You and my heart cries,
"Glory! Hallelujah! Father, You're here!"
Chorus
I will wait on You
You are my refuge!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
How Does He Do It?
Ok, so I'm a hematology/oncology nurse which equals cancer, cancer, and more cancer. I see patients at their best: When they find out they get to have a bone marrow transplant that puts their leukemia to an end. I see them at their worst: When the doctors come tell them the words they never want to hear, "You have cancer."
I see them in their dying moments. My first patient that I ever had as a nurse died about 4 hours after I had taken care of him for the second day in a row. I got to spend the last days this man literally had with his family. I would come in to take his blood pressure and temperature, and his mother would ask me, "Does he look like he's getting better?" I knew in my heart this man would never walk out of that hospital room. He was on hospice, which means we stop all efforts to try to save the patient and try our best to make him comfortable as he dies.
I have taken care of a sweet little man for the past couple of shifts. I also took care of him about 2 months ago. While discharging Mr. P the last time he left the hospital he told me, "I'm going to Sonic when I get out of here. They have the best onion rings ever!" He just made me giggle. I came into work probably a week or two ago and looked on our list of patients, and Mr. P's name was on the list. It was obvious just by looking at his diagnosis and what was going on with him that this was not going to be the same witty man I took care of a month and a half earlier. "Cancer, hypertension (high blood pressure), diabetes, NG tube (that's a tube that runs down your nose and into your stomach to drain everything out), TPN (total parenteral nutrition--basically feeding him through his IV site)" I was assigned Mr. P on Monday. I walked in and found a very sick man. The worst was yet to come. I came back to work on Friday, and he had gotten worse.
On top of that, I had another lady who absolutely could not breathe because the cancer had overtaken her lungs. I had to transfer her to the ICU because I had 3 other patients, and I couldn't give her the continuous monitoring she deserved and needed. I listened as the doctors told her family, "If I ever put her on a breathing tube, she will die on it." My preceptor called the ICU on Saturday, and we found out that the tube had been inserted shortly after I took her there.
Back to Mr. P. On Saturday, the doctor was in the room before I was, which is extremely unusual. She was staring at a monitor. His heart rate was 170 beats per minute. Just to put this into perspective: your average Joe's heart beats somewhere between 60-100 times a minute, so Mr. P's heart was double timing it. We quickly found out Mr. P had gone into a funky rhythm. "Help!" he said. "I'm hurting. Help me. My chest hurts." Mr. P already had some serious breathing problems and intestinal issues, so to add an arrhythmia on top of this turned this whole case into a big mess. "I can't catch my breath. My chest hurts so bad. My stomach hurts. Help me! Help me." The medicine I would normally give him for pain was morphine; however, the doctors were concerned his blood pressure would bottom out. So I sat there so helplessly. I couldn't give him medicine for pain. I couldn't help him breathe better; that's out of my scope of practice. Plus he didn't want a tube down his throat anyway. I pushed a crash cart in front of his room for two days straight, waiting to have to do chest compressions on him. I watched as his son asked him what he would want done if his heart stopped. I saw tears fall from his son's face as he held his father's hand.
I have never felt quite so helpless as I did. I've never quite felt death so close as it has been lately to my patients. I don't know how the Lord does it. Psalm 116:15 (NASB) says, "Precious in the sight of this Lord is the death of His godly ones." I don't know how the Lord comforts those who mourn. I don't know how He takes away the life of such precious people and still comforts those left behind. I don't know how He so gently takes a person from this life to be with Him. In Job, the Lord speaks and He basically says, "Job, were you there when I put the water into the ocean and then I told it, 'STOP! This is where your proud waves halt?' and the ocean ended and land began?" I get to be there in these moments for these patients when He says, "STOP. My servant, you've had enough." And at that moment, their hearts cease to beat. I am to a point where I'm realizing there is no way I will ever be able to understand the many sides and ways of the Lord. "My ways are higher than your ways, and My thoughts are higher than your thoughts." The past few days have been incredibly difficult, but yet even with the thought of death being so close, even with being so exhausted that I didn't know how to even function anymore, the Lord is sovereign, isn't He? He is holy. He is righteous. He is good. He is revered. He is to be praised. He is to be adored. He is worthy of my affection. He is God. "You will be my witnesses," declares the Lord, "that I am God." Lord, I don't understand You, and there's no way that I possibly ever could, but "I'm falling on my knees, offering all of me. Jesus, You're all this heart is living for. Hungry I come to You for I know You satisfy."
I see them in their dying moments. My first patient that I ever had as a nurse died about 4 hours after I had taken care of him for the second day in a row. I got to spend the last days this man literally had with his family. I would come in to take his blood pressure and temperature, and his mother would ask me, "Does he look like he's getting better?" I knew in my heart this man would never walk out of that hospital room. He was on hospice, which means we stop all efforts to try to save the patient and try our best to make him comfortable as he dies.
I have taken care of a sweet little man for the past couple of shifts. I also took care of him about 2 months ago. While discharging Mr. P the last time he left the hospital he told me, "I'm going to Sonic when I get out of here. They have the best onion rings ever!" He just made me giggle. I came into work probably a week or two ago and looked on our list of patients, and Mr. P's name was on the list. It was obvious just by looking at his diagnosis and what was going on with him that this was not going to be the same witty man I took care of a month and a half earlier. "Cancer, hypertension (high blood pressure), diabetes, NG tube (that's a tube that runs down your nose and into your stomach to drain everything out), TPN (total parenteral nutrition--basically feeding him through his IV site)" I was assigned Mr. P on Monday. I walked in and found a very sick man. The worst was yet to come. I came back to work on Friday, and he had gotten worse.
On top of that, I had another lady who absolutely could not breathe because the cancer had overtaken her lungs. I had to transfer her to the ICU because I had 3 other patients, and I couldn't give her the continuous monitoring she deserved and needed. I listened as the doctors told her family, "If I ever put her on a breathing tube, she will die on it." My preceptor called the ICU on Saturday, and we found out that the tube had been inserted shortly after I took her there.
Back to Mr. P. On Saturday, the doctor was in the room before I was, which is extremely unusual. She was staring at a monitor. His heart rate was 170 beats per minute. Just to put this into perspective: your average Joe's heart beats somewhere between 60-100 times a minute, so Mr. P's heart was double timing it. We quickly found out Mr. P had gone into a funky rhythm. "Help!" he said. "I'm hurting. Help me. My chest hurts." Mr. P already had some serious breathing problems and intestinal issues, so to add an arrhythmia on top of this turned this whole case into a big mess. "I can't catch my breath. My chest hurts so bad. My stomach hurts. Help me! Help me." The medicine I would normally give him for pain was morphine; however, the doctors were concerned his blood pressure would bottom out. So I sat there so helplessly. I couldn't give him medicine for pain. I couldn't help him breathe better; that's out of my scope of practice. Plus he didn't want a tube down his throat anyway. I pushed a crash cart in front of his room for two days straight, waiting to have to do chest compressions on him. I watched as his son asked him what he would want done if his heart stopped. I saw tears fall from his son's face as he held his father's hand.
I have never felt quite so helpless as I did. I've never quite felt death so close as it has been lately to my patients. I don't know how the Lord does it. Psalm 116:15 (NASB) says, "Precious in the sight of this Lord is the death of His godly ones." I don't know how the Lord comforts those who mourn. I don't know how He takes away the life of such precious people and still comforts those left behind. I don't know how He so gently takes a person from this life to be with Him. In Job, the Lord speaks and He basically says, "Job, were you there when I put the water into the ocean and then I told it, 'STOP! This is where your proud waves halt?' and the ocean ended and land began?" I get to be there in these moments for these patients when He says, "STOP. My servant, you've had enough." And at that moment, their hearts cease to beat. I am to a point where I'm realizing there is no way I will ever be able to understand the many sides and ways of the Lord. "My ways are higher than your ways, and My thoughts are higher than your thoughts." The past few days have been incredibly difficult, but yet even with the thought of death being so close, even with being so exhausted that I didn't know how to even function anymore, the Lord is sovereign, isn't He? He is holy. He is righteous. He is good. He is revered. He is to be praised. He is to be adored. He is worthy of my affection. He is God. "You will be my witnesses," declares the Lord, "that I am God." Lord, I don't understand You, and there's no way that I possibly ever could, but "I'm falling on my knees, offering all of me. Jesus, You're all this heart is living for. Hungry I come to You for I know You satisfy."
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