To the first Nurse, I knew,
In my earliest memories, you were someone who cared for and fixed broken people.
The vivid yellow first-aid kit you gave me had a bright blue stethoscope which worked the same as your grey one. As a pre-schooler, I knew that this instrument had a circle at one end and earbuds at the other, to listen to the music of hearts, lungs, and stomachs.
You provided me with a plethora of brightly coloured books – human anatomy for children. Together we started many hospitals. We fixed the aches and pain not only of dolls and teddies but many a stray animal.
Our only point of contention– my asthma management plan. Try as you might, the variety of education methods were not effective at producing a pre-schooler compliant at using a spacer. Although, I do admit to having you to thank for keeping me out of the hospital.
I remember coming to pick you up late at night from work. My sister and I fast asleep as we drove into the city to get you. The strange thing is you never seemed to be tired. You were my hero.
Fast forward. My final year at school. People told me that I would be a good nurse. However, somehow the word nurse had become tainted as a profession subservient to the medical world. I was determined to be better than that – I was going to be a doctor.
Yet, during that first year of biomedical science, something pulled me into nursing, and I am forever grateful that it did. I am unsure where things changed from master and apprentice to colleagues.
Perhaps, when we cared for our dying grandmother. As difficult as that time was for both of us, I am thankful to have been able to spend it with you, doing what you always do – care for others.
Thank you for teaching me that fixing broken people is not always the application of a band-aid. It is more than that. Fixing people is learning to be fully present in the moment and to share in their suffering.
What do you think about nursing these days? Are you too concerned about the increasing rates of burnout among our colleagues? A fatigued, over worked and at times abused workforce.
After battling through the COVID-19 pandemic we now brace ourselves for a winter season heavy with Influenza and Respiratory syncytial virus. However, my main concern is the socioeconomic and psychological impacts of repeated disease and isolation tormenting our communities we seek to serve.
The burden seems heavy.
You remind me that our ability to care for others does not come from within ourselves but from Christ, from above. You remind me that to emanate Christ is to,
“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves”, rather “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of other” (Philippians chapter 2, verses 3-4).
For this example, comes from Christ, the one who, being God, emptied himself for our sake. So, as we strive to seek the healthcare and welfare of those most in need, empty ourselves in our own human way so that we may glorify God through the passion we have as nurses.
Yet not only this ability, but also the strength to fulfill this calling comes from above. For I am reminded that the gift we have to care, to yearn for those most in need, will always find its root in the grace of God for all his gifts spring forth entirely of his grace.
All the more will I rejoice that I have this gift of grace, the example you have set for me.
From you, I have inherited the healthily bossy personality and the passion for the art and science we call nursing.
Sincerely yours,
A second-generation Nurse and your daughter
Kiwi-born with British roots, Jessica Gardiner drinks tea religiously while her dinner table discussions reverberate between the sovereignty of God, global politics, and the public health system. Having experienced churches from conservative to everything but, Jessica writes out a desire for Christian orthodoxy and biblical literacy in her generation. Jessica is married to fellow young writer Blake Gardiner.