Chelsia Harris - Created & Called: A Journey to and Through Nursing

First printing: August 2015

Copyright 2015 by Chelsia Danielle Harris. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews. For information write:

New Leaf Press, P.O. Box 726, Green Forest, AR 72638
New Leaf Press is a division of the New Leaf Publishing Group, Inc.

ISBN: 978-0-89221-736-6
Library of Con gress Number: 2015946959
Cover by Diana Bogardus

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are from the English Standard Version (ESV) of the Bible.

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Contents

Chapter 1

The Call

H ave you ever wondered, What are my gifts? What exactly is God calling me to do with my life? It was 1999 and I was assisting my 83-year-old great-aunt Mart with a bath, when she asked me, Have you ever thought about working with the old people? I pondered for a moment. That was a question I had to think about to answer. Now, I have to tell you that my Aunt Mart was a woman of impeccable, godly character. I never met my maternal grandmother. She died long before I was born. So her sister, Aunt Mart, filled the shoes of the grandma role in my life. Aunt Mart never had children of her own, never drove a day in her life, was widowed in 1986, and depended solely upon the Lord to meet her needs. Although Aunt Mart never had her own biological children, she had many children. I cannot remember a single weekend we didnt visit my Aunt Mart and climb the trees in her front yard with all of my cousins. After everyone would leave, I would go inside, crawl up in Aunt Marts lap, and run my fingers across the velvety soft, wrinkled skin of her hand. She would caress my hair and tell me how beautiful she thought I was and how I must always serve the Lord and lay every burden at His feet.

Aunt Mart fixed the best chicken strips and sugary frozen strawberries. She loved me and my brother and cousins more than anything. She never forgot a birthday and you could bank on it, at Christmas, every single one of our family members would cram ourselves into Aunt Marts little humble home to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Aunt Mart didnt have much, but she had plenty. Her house smelled of coffee and the vapors of her water cooler in the summer, and her wood burning stove in the winter. I loved my Aunt Mart!

In the year 2000, I graduated from Atkins High School in Atkins, Arkansas. There were only 68 students in my class. My Aunt Mart was so proud! By this time, she had such a severe curvature in her spine that her chin almost touched her waist when she stood. You see, osteoporosis had weakened her bones immensely. As a young woman, Aunt Mart was 5 feet 6 inches tall, but on the day of my high school graduation, she stood only 4 feet 11 inches. She really wasnt able to stand too much. She had to be wheeled into the auditorium in her wheelchair. However, Aunt Mart wouldnt have missed that day for the world! Aunt Mart was often in tremendous amounts of pain, but you would have never known it. She didnt complain about anything. She felt as if each day was a gift from the Lord and that we should rejoice and be glad in it.

My Aunt Mart and me at my high school graduation

I was rejoicing that particular night! Graduation night. May 10, 2000. I walked across that stage to receive my diploma with Aunt Marts question, Have you ever thought about working with the old people? resonating in my heart and mind. I hadnt necessarily felt that I would work with the old people, but I knew that God was calling me to a life of service. I had already registered for college and declared nursing as my major. My plan was to get my Bachelor of Science in Nursing (BSN) degree and work the rest of my life on a pediatric oncology unit. What I didnt know at the young age of 17 was that the heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps (Proverbs 16:9).

Spring break of my sophomore year of college, I received the phone call. This call was one that brought me to my knees. It was my uncle. He said, Aunt Mart has fallen, and its pretty bad. My cousin found her 45 minutes after her fall, lying in a pool of blood in her living room. Aunt Mart was independent. She didnt allow many people to wait on her. That particular day, she was adjusting the heat on her stove. It was still cold in Arkansas at this time. When she turned around she lost her balance, fell backwards, and hit her head on the concrete cinder blocks that she used for book shelves.

I cried as my uncle explained the situation that Aunt Mart was in trouble and was being transported to the hospital. Since I was out of state when I received the call, it took me 48 hours to get to Aunt Mart. When I walked into her room, my heart sank! The smell almost knocked me down, and the sight was horrific! Aunt Marts sheets, pillow, face, and head were covered in dried blood. She had not even had so much as a warm, moist cloth rubbed across her face. Where were the nurses?!? Had they forgotten about my precious aunt? Was she not worthy of quality care? Again, Aunt Marts question resonated loudly in my heart and mind: Have you ever thought about working with the old people? At that very moment, I wanted to shout to the rooftop, YES, Aunt Mart, YES! But she was sedated and couldnt respond to me.

Days went by as my family remained close to Aunt Marts hospital bed. We clung to every moment. We would gather around her bed and pray or sing hymns. We took turns sleeping overnight in her room. There was never one minute of any day that there were not at least four or five of us there. Minute by minute, I watched in disbelief as my Aunt Mart struggled to hang on to life. My heart broke when she would scream out in horrific pain. The doctors informed us that the pain was because Aunt Mart had fractured almost every vertebra in her spine, secondary to the osteoporosis and fall. I just wanted to comfort her. I wanted to take her pain away. In those moments, I wanted to be her nurse.

The tables had turned. It was now me caressing Aunt Marts hair, telling her how beautiful she was, and how I was trying so desperately to lay my burdens at Jesus feet. As Aunt Mart was taking her final breaths, I felt the call to nursing stronger than I ever had before. My heart began to beat wildly in my chest, and I felt as if it might stop along with Aunt Marts. My lungs felt like a balloon that someone had just stuck with a pin. The air was slowly leaking out, but there was nothing coming back in to replace it. Goose bumps covered my body. My hands trembled. The woman I had loved, admired, and revered as the closest thing to Jesus I had ever known was slipping away, and I couldnt stop it.

One last time, I ran my trembling fingers over the velvety soft, wrinkled skin of Aunt Marts hand. Thank you. I love you, I whispered. In that moment, I realized that God had used my sweet Aunt Mart to call me to be a nurse. I vowed to spend the rest of my life ensuring that every patient, young or old, was valued and received compassionate, high-quality care. I wasnt exactly sure how I would fulfill that promise, but I felt deep in my spirit that God was going to equip me.