Living on the Edge Blog

The photo above shows Vietnamese orphans being cared for in an orphanage in Saigon during the Vietnamese war.

What has this got to do with me?

I worked as a nurse during the war taking care of orphans. The excerpt below from my book is a topic that none of us likes to think about in our lives of relative peace and serenity. However, war continues to be a reality in our world today. Hard to ignore!

“The babies don’t go away, except these few I randomly chose at the orphanage. More babies keep coming. The Vietnamese nuns, Brides of Christ, serve in the orphanage. They soldier on to promote love and life in the midst of this war of destruction. Like any war, it keeps churning out babies, made in God’s image. They are spewed out like spent cartridges of bullets fired from guns bent on death.”

“These babies were the bitter fruits of the war. Many were mixed-race, the product of American GIs and Vietnamese women. Culturally, these “Amerasians” were spurned as inferior and defiled. The bombings and battles left dead parents in their wake and orphaned children. The disruption of planting and harvesting provoked extreme poverty to already subsistence farmers. Babies were a burden many desperate mothers could not bear. We could measure the statistics, but no one could gauge the anguish and human suffering.”

Whew! Hard to think about. I know it is for me even as I write this, even though I lived this for a whole year of my life.

How do you deal with human suffering, be it near or far?

Ignore it? Deny it? Rrrr

Reach out and send aid or deliver a meal? Pray?

????

???? Pray?

I was stressed! Why?

The Frontier Nursing Service, although my dream job, knocked me for a loop from time to time. Read this excerpt from my book to learn what happened:

“The patient lived. My CPR (cardio pulmonary resuscitation) got his heart going again. An IV and the right meds plus oxygen kept his heart going. My heart eventually slowed down to normal, and I carried on with the shift. I looked and acted the same on the outside, but I was changed forever on the inside.

The inner confidence and contentment of the morning as I headed to work, was shaken. Doubts crept in. My sense of control teetered.

Sure, the patient lived. But he could have died. Do I really want to deal with this kind of stress? What’s going to happen next? Whatever does, will I be able to handle it?

How did I deal with my new rocky interior? Did I say a prayer of thanks to God? Did I ask God to help me? Did I acknowledge that He was really in control? No! That night back in my room, I cowered miserably in my rocking chair, a jar of peanut butter on my lap. I don’t remember how long I spooned peanut butter directly from the jar into my mouth. Peanut butter for comfort? It eased my anxiety. Instant gratification. I was in control of the jar and the spoon. That felt good.”

Questions for you:

What do you do to relieve stress?

What would you recommend to others as a successful strategy for relieving stress?

“When I arrived here in Kentucky, the heartland of Appalachia, I determined to dive into the local culture – hook, line, and sinker. Why? Culture is shaped by people. The simple truth is, I love people. When I meet someone, beyond even conscious thought, I hanker to know what makes them tick.

What do you like, dislike? What about your past? What formed you into who you are today? How can I help you? Just let me know.

Here’s our question for today:

How would you define culture?

It stood stock still smack dab in the middle of our lane. Bill slowed the car as we approached, but it still didn’t move. The car went slower and slower. Finally, when we were a few inches from the mottled brown grouse, the chicken-sized bird scurried off into the brush at the side of the road.

“Sheesh!” I exclaimed as I let out a tense breath. “Why didn’t it move sooner? What was it thinking? Or was it even thinking?”

“Actually, I’m glad you asked that last question,” replied smarty-pants Bill. “The grouse was acting on instinct, not logical thinking. It’s defense in the woods when faced with a threat is to stand still. This enables it to blend in with its surroundings. Then the predator would not see it and would move on. It would be safe.”

“Hmmm,” I murmured, pondering this. “The problem then is that the grouse does not adapt to its immediate situation. It does not realize that standing still in the middle of a road is not safe. It does not blend in. The predator (a car) is likely to smash it flat.”

“Yup, said Bill. “That’s about it.”

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So here are some questions for us humans.

Are there times in our lives when we refuse to adapt appropriately to an immediate situation?

…when we stick to a tried-and-true defense tactic that doesn’t work this time?

…when the results are disastrous instead of gratifying?

What are your thoughts?

Excerpt from my book:

“One day, age four, I opened the door of our house, closed it quietly, and started walking. All by myself. I walked and walked . I looked at each house, at the trees, the grass, the swings, at the occasional person going by. I walked right past the border of my world, into uncharted territory. I was fascinated, tingly all over. I was pulled on and on, like a speck of iron filing to a magnet. I not only lost track of where I was, but I lost track of time. I don’t remember being afraid or worried. Without consciously thinking the thought, what drew me onward and ever onward was, ‘I wonder what’s around the next bend’.”

This memory of mine turned out to be a foretaste of how my life would unfold.

Feel like sharing a little-kid-memory that has stuck with you and that has shaped your life growing up?

Maybe it was an indicator of what your future life held for you?

Would you consider your memory a hindrance or a help for your future life?

The Fried Egg Theory of Life.

This is the last thing I expected to learn as I went off to pre-field training. And yet I discovered that this theory, when I put it into practice, energized my whole being and took me to places I had never been before.

Now close your eyes and picture your average fried egg – nice round yellow yolk surrounded by a smooth white with squiggly, crinkly edges. The yolk represents each of us as an individual with our personality, interests, activities, strengths, weaknesses, gifts, and skills. The white represents our comfort zone – the normal day to day space in which we live and move and have our being. In our comfort zone we feel in control, on top of things, safe, secure, relaxed.

Hey! Wait a minute! What’s that out there on the edge of my horizon? It is looming, lurking, hovering. I peer cautiously yet curiously out from my cozy confines. Aha! What I see way out there on the edge, beckoning me, beseeching me, is…a challenge. Its prickly form is terrifying yet somehow alluring.

I face a decision. I can choose to keep the squiggly, crinkly edges of my comfort zone right where they are. I can play it safe and ignore that challenge until it slinks away.  Or I can stretch my edges, reach out and embrace that challenge. I can choose to risk. And if I do choose to risk, the smooth firm whiteness of my comfort zone will never be the same again. I will never be the same again.

But finally, each of us right here, right now, whoever we are, whatever we do, is facing a challenge of one form or another. Each of us could welcome and experience The Fried Egg Theory of Life on the Edge.

Do you relate to the Fried Egg Theory of Life?

In what way is it relevant to you?

Thanks for visiting me.

If you were to visit me in person instead of online, you would find me in a 500-square-foot, many years old hunters’ cabin by a creek. My husband of 52 years and I have settled into a sedate lifestyle anchored by the nature that embraces us and our love for each other that has sustained us through many challenging adventures over the years.

Who am I? A retired nurse is my label. Hiking, backpacking, canoeing, and reading are my hobbies. Honoring the God of the Bible and helping people are my passions.

Now I have time to reflect on those adventures. As I look back I often smile, sometimes grieve, and sometimes cringe. Always my being fills with awe and fizzes with energy.

I invite you to join me in my reflections through visiting this blog. I will relate stories, ponder perplexing truths, and ask what you think. I would really like to know.

I hope you will join my tribe.

Linda Brierly