little inconveniences

Drip drop, drip drop.

I’ve heard it a million times from a million people before.

“Oh, there it is again, the stupid sink dripping water all night long, waking me up in the middle of the night, keeping me where I can’t sleep. I’ll ask him to fix it but he’ll probably forget, or when he does fix it the next thing will pop up, probably on my way to work–it’ll be the engine, but when I get to work it’ll be my phone or when I get home from work it will be the big, loud fat drops of water dripping from the ceiling onto the kitchen table–or is it the sink again?”

Drip drop, drip drop.

Every day something new pops up–a new inconvenience to my ordinarily smooth-sailing life, a new form of drip drop, drip drop, drip drop like the incessant noise all night long from the sink, slowly letting one drop hit the bottom before the next one crashes out, staying with me all night long, echoing in the back of my mind.

I think about how that little inconvenience feels so huge–how that little inconvenience, all those little inconveniences daily, add up to a life riddled with inconveniences of the smallest scale. The person who doesn’t go immediately at a green light. The 30 seconds too long I popped the popcorn. The glass bottle I dropped and shattered and now have to clean up. I’m constantly inconvenienced.

But then, I think of what I could be hearing: that barely-there whisper of the drip drop, drip drop, drip drop, except this time it isn’t the sink slowly letting out water on to the drain, but the IV bag slowly, carefully, measurably dripping poison into my veins. It’s the IV bag keeping me alive, resisting desiccation, or tumor growth, or infection. An inconvenience so large that I must rely on it to live–suddenly, I think of all those other inconveniences–the broken phone, broken engine, broken roof, broken glass, broken house, and suddenly they all become overwhelmingly insignificant compared to the prospect of a broken body, a broken soul.

I’ll be thankful for my little inconveniences every day.

soul-work

Two days ago, I packed by bags and moved to Boston, MA. The night before was full of tears, happy ones and sad ones, long hugs, prayers, and motivating words. Honestly, I was completely terrified. And I’m working through those emotions and trying to allow God to guide my life, to dictate when and where I need to go to become the person He designed. It’s hard. I’m two days in, and I’ve already had to confront topics and conversations that challenge my thinking and address new ideas that I’ve never seen before. I welcome new ideas, and always have, but I trust that my roots are planted deep in my values—believing that those things that are critical to who I am are unchanging, unwavering. Some of the most important work I’ve been doing the past 8 years or so is establishing who I am, what I believe, what is important to me. It’s truly a dynamic process to lay down our foundations, to articulate what we find meaningful and important in life, and I’ve spent many nights, days, moments, and experiences trying to define those things for me. I’ve made mistakes, jumped into situations that eventually didn’t feel right for me, tried out a habit that was popular but didn’t speak to me, and made mistakes I want to forget forever. But all that soul-work was way more important than anything that I was studying in school—that stuff lingers long after the organic chemistry mechanisms fade into the dark crevices of the mind, never to be recovered. My advice to those younger people: focus on soul-work as much as “real” work. You will be challenged, confused, and overwhelmed as you transition into adulthood (am I there yet?) and that soul-work will root you to what’s important.

I’m doing a program called “Justice, Advocacy, and Activism in Medicine” or JAAM where we’ve discussed topics like racism in medicine, reproductive rights and justice, substance use disorders, abortion, transgender/intersex identities, and many more really heavy and difficult topics to grapple with. I was/am certainly overwhelmed, but I pray every night that God reveals himself to me over the next four years in ways I never imagined or anticipated so that I can better serve those people whose care will be entrusted to me. I pray that he surrounds me with people who will lift me up and challenge me, and that my relationships at home will be fortified because of a shared understanding and belief system. I’m incredibly thankful for Avery, my boyfriend, for being so supportive through everything we go through together and being the person I can debrief with when I need to. He is a wonderful life partner. I’m thankful for my parents and sisters for keeping me stable and showing me such strong love as I left home, reminding me how blessed I am to have people who care deeply for me. I’m thankful for this journey, even though I’m scared, nervous, and uneasy, because I’m also curious, excited, and hopeful.

I think my word for this year is “change.” Change can be hard—it’s supposed to be, though, or it wouldn’t be a transformative process. So much in my life has already changed, and I feel many years older now than I was at this point last year (and I did just turn 23…). I’m ready for the change, for the challenges, for a new adventure, for a purpose that is bigger than myself, for taking care of myself, and for never giving up hope that I can make a difference in some way. I’m immersed in a city that looks and feels quite different from what I’m used to, but I welcome the ways I can interact with its people, bring my own background and belief system, and engage spiritually with this place—hearing people, listening to their stories, meeting new friends, trusting that God puts people and places in my life at critical moments of change. I believe that every serendipitous encounter, conversation, thought, phone call, message or interaction is a part of a mosaic that eventually reveals the plan that God designs for us. That plan may be fixed before we are born or may be one that changes as we move through life—either way, I’m ready. I’m here, ready to learn, grow, change, transform, love, and hope.

the free

Piece by piece

We build the wall

That works to separate us all

From those who have from those don’t

From those who can to those who won’t.

We throw our words around like flames

That scar and burn but mostly blame

Because those who won’t just steal from me

And those who don’t just need to flee.

Word by word

We all fall down

Our piercing words can only drown

Those who seek a sweeter place

To love and live and show their face.

All they find is hate and harm

From those with dangling, cross-shaped charms

“Build the wall!” they shout with glee

And as we do, we imprison the free.

Heart by heart

We deny the hate

That steals our love and determines our fate

We stand together in unity

Remembering whose pain once set us free.

We don’t speak loud but we do speak out

Because acts of love don’t scream and shout

The greatest of love has spoken for me

Now I speak for Him on that sacred tree.

I wrote this on a plane ride back from visits in Boston and Providence over the weekend. I was really inspired by the people, love, passion, and humanity that swept me up over the past few days and felt compelled to write this piece of poetry. It is political, but our lives are political. They are messy, confusing, never black and white. This poem, I hope, urges us to consider the gray– to find our place in the gray. The piece is also about love, peace, freedom, Christ, and unity. I hope the beauty of the woods isn’t missed for focusing in on the tree. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

values collection

Sometimes we must make big decisions in our lives.

I hate these times.

I’m horrible at making big decisions, or small decisions for that matter. I’m clearly not a very decisive person. I tend to change my mind often, and I’m easily convinced by someone who has a good argument. A part of this is because I dodge confrontation at all costs and quickly catch onto the current of the popular wave. I also think I change my mind often because life is complex, messy, and human lives are involved. This isn’t make-believe. Black and white answers are often misleading and potentially damaging. In many ways being indecisive is a conduit to being open-minded and listening to many perspectives.

I absorb new information like a sponge. Then, I add that new information to the pool of ideas that shifts and swirls within my head (it’s like a chaotic whirlpool up there). New information has huge influence over our lives. We’re all susceptible to the pull of new ideas or propaganda: politically, you may think differently today than you did five or ten years ago. You may have changed your mind about vaccinations. When you once thought they were harmless and very beneficial, now you’re skeptical because of alarmist news, trending discussion on the topic, and changing trust in authority. I’m not saying any of this is wrong, and I think it is even right to question new information. Some people spend their whole lives never questioning if what they believe is right or wrong. Those people are typically stubbornly blind in their ways and oftentimes closed-minded and hard. New information and the decision-making process can become an opportunity to explore what we believe and why.

I’m making a big decision right now, and it is hard. Every day I grow more anxious about deciding where I will go for medical school (full disclosure: it will be either Stanford or Harvard). There are a lot of factors to consider when making this decision, and, unfortunately, no one can make it for me. What I’ve learned throughout this very tough decision, though, is how to articulate what my values are. About five or six years ago, Mrs. Kelly Hinson, my high school cheerleading coach at the time, encouraged us to write down qualities we valued in a future husband. This was my first exercise is clearly stating what I find important, and I continue to reflect on my life in terms of values today.

It’s easy to get caught up in the impressing game. We all want to be impressive; it’s the driving factor for what we post on social media, how we dress, what we share with others, how we spend our money, etc. Not many people go around starting a conversation with, “Yeah, last week I failed an exam, wrecked my car, and then forgot to pay my credit card bill.” Or “I’m pretty unhappy at the moment. Yeah, I’m sad. I’m learning to cope and find outlets, but right now is honestly a hard time for me.” We just don’t shape the perception of our lives in this way. We aim to impress, subconsciously or consciously.

I’m trying to avoid the impressing game and focus on the values game. I’ve spent a lot of time narrowing in on what is important to me over the years. We spend a lot of time crafting our personal “values collection.” We avoid excess, eliminate toxicity, seek out righteousness, love what’s good, and hate what’s harmful. The actions of our lives become the patterns of our decision-making. As I make this huge, scary decision, I’m focusing on my own values: community, support, acceptance, love, flexibility, family, honesty, integrity, and compassion. Sometimes it requires taking it back old-school style and grabbing a pen and paper to simply write words that are important. If you feel caught up in the indecision of our political system or you’re being carried too much by the waves of other people, just write down what is important to you. Your own “values collection” can serve as a handy compass when navigating this complex, confusing world.

poems from seaside

I think

there are so many poems

about the ocean because it is

simultaneously violent

and peaceful.

At the same time it

crashes against the coast

destroys a weak vessel

and carries away debris

It

smoothes the rocky shore

coos the frightened bird

and hugs your planted feet.

It somehow reminds us

gently

chaotically

simply

subliminally

of that violent yet peaceful

love

that roars as it sings.

That kind of love that lives within you and within me.

——

If each day is a fresh page

Then I want mine to be

Inked with words of prayer

Stained with drops of coffee

Smudged with chocolate fingers

And scented with smells of you.

If each day is a fresh page

Then yesterday doesn’t matter

And tomorrow can’t be viewed

So I’ll sit here and

Think

Today, what good can I do?

——

prayers are like raindrops except you send them up instead of let them fall. everyday you send a raindrop up to heaven to join the puddle pooling at God’s feet. everyday you wonder, did my raindrop reach the stars or did it break along the way? then one day, you realize your raindrops were never supposed to go up all the way and stay. you just forgot to look around and see everyone soaked and smiling by the rain that wiped away their tears. your tiny little prayers were falling all the while, and finally you learn, prayers are a lot like raindrops,

they fall on those who are near.

dream big

Reader, I did it.

I got into Harvard Medical School.

This isn’t a post about the hours I poured over biochemistry pathways or the different immune cells. It isn’t about my boyfriend, Avery, who made quotes for me to read every day I studied for the MCAT. It isn’t even about my gratitude for my mom and dad who empowered this dream.

This is a post to you, to say YOU CAN DO IT. I promise you can. Whatever it is that sets your heart alive, gives you a purpose that is bigger than yourself, or wakes you up in the morning, I am begging you to chase that dream. Nothing is more beautiful than settling that thing in you that is urging you to pursue your dreams. Four years ago, I was a high school senior in a small town in rural Tennessee. I had never taken an AP class or won a national spelling bee or been inducted into the National Honors Society. I applied to one university and never even imagined applying to an Ivy League school. I had a few key mentors, a passion for science and service, and a door that was hanging wide open in front of me. Through that door, I saw limitless opportunity and chance. I saw hope. Belmont University was my vessel to explore that thing within me that said “Hey, go for it. I believe in you.” I have always felt there is something greater within me, something calling me to do more and to be more than my small and limited mind can comprehend. I followed the crazy things that thing called me towards, and I achieved a dream – a dream bigger than I ever imagined.

I think everyone has this thing within them, gnawing at their spirit. It may be starting a business, working as a nurse, doing mission work, becoming a writer or artist, helping those that are differently-abled, or finally going back to school. It may be small; it may be big. Whatever you have in you that is inching to get out, it matters. Your contribution to the world matters.

People will discourage you. People will question you. People will try to limit your ambition and your dreams. My biggest advice is to never be that person to yourself. Believe in who you are. If you do this, other people will believe in you, too. My freshman year of college, my mentor Dr. Javid Moslehi consistently introduced me as, “This is Mary. She’s going to be a Harvard medical student one day.” I jokingly laughed it off and didn’t believe him, but his belief encouraged me to believe in myself. Find those people that believe in you. They are the ones that throw gasoline on the fire within your heart.

Dream big but work hard. My dad always told me, “There are people a lot smarter than me, but none of them can work harder.” This is my motto now, too. You can be a math genius or an art prodigy, but if you do no work with that talent, you will never fulfill your potential. Seriously, work hard. Where you are deficient, hard work can compensate. I fully believe anyone can learn anything with enough time and effort. If hard work can get a girl like me into Harvard, it can get you anywhere you imagine.

Just go for it. The worst thing that can happen is that you fail, and if you fail then you just start over and try again. My mom always reminded my younger sister, “What happens when we fall? We learn to pick ourselves up.” You can always pick yourself up, and you’ll probably have people around you that are there to catch you anyways. Whatever is holding you back, throw it off. Whoever is holding you down, let them go. You are worth achieving your dreams. You are worth making a difference. I promise: you can do it.

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” – Mary Oliver

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.” – Maya Angelou

sacred places

“There are no unsacred places; / there are only sacred places and desecrated places.” — Wendell Berry
I’m starting to understand that there truly are no unsacred places — this is a bold claim. Some may perceive the site where a white American minister burned himself alive in the name of racial reconciliation as unsacred, or the home of hundreds of incarcerated men and women as unsacred, or the doctor’s office where an abortion has been performed as unsacred, or a strip club where infidelity puts food on the table for women employees as unsacred. I am guilty, as I predict we all are, of having passed an opinion on each of these cases and many others without considering the human lives involved. And while yes, I do believe that there are very uncomfortable aspects in each of these places and scenarios, I’m starting to see that life is much more complicated than the simple dichotomy of sacred/unsacred or right/wrong or good/evil. I didn’t coin this distinction, though; that was Wendell Berry. Luckily it wasn’t me, because Berry importantly includes the alternative to unsacred: desecrated. I looked up “desecrated” in the dictionary to see exactly what he meant. Something desecrated has been violently disrespected, or possibly perverted, violated, infected, polluted, vandalized, debased, or degraded. Berry is onto something here. People — the most critiqued in society — are likely to have been victims of many waves of desecration in their lifetimes. I imagine people as those beautifully painted Russian nesting dolls. We may look whimsical and pleasing on the outside, but within each of us there are many unseen, hidden layers. These mysterious, unknown layers may be what have shifted some of us from the sacred to the desecrated. We’re all damaged, polluted, degraded in some way. Some of us are just better at hiding our layers than others.
So there are no unsacred places, only desecrated places, and those not yet desecrated, or the sacred. There are no unsacred people. There are people who have been cheated, lied to, abused, hurt, neglected, abandoned, scared, dishonored, gossiped about, rejected, and shamed; they are simply damaged. If someone we love is damaged, do we abandon them? Give up, toss them to the side, move on, and hope for better luck in the future? I hope the answer is no. At least, I’m hoping no one gives up on me. I’m damaged, just like you are. I want to see people as the complicated, multi-layered, dynamic living souls they are. This world is far too vivid and beautiful to see only in shades of black and white. That place we call harmony, sympathy, and understanding is all gray.
—–
How to Be a Poet by Wendell Berry
(to remind myself)
i   
Make a place to sit down.   
Sit down. Be quiet.   
You must depend upon   
affection, reading, knowledge,   
skill—more of each   
than you have—inspiration,   
work, growing older, patience,   
for patience joins time   
to eternity. Any readers   
who like your poems,   
doubt their judgment.   
ii   
Breathe with unconditional breath   
the unconditioned air.   
Shun electric wire.   
Communicate slowly. Live   
a three-dimensioned life;   
stay away from screens.   
Stay away from anything   
that obscures the place it is in.   
There are no unsacred places;   
there are only sacred places   
and desecrated places.   
iii   
Accept what comes from silence.   
Make the best you can of it.   
Of the little words that come   
out of the silence, like prayers   
prayed back to the one who prays,   
make a poem that does not disturb   
the silence from which it came.