For the past few weeks, we have gathered with loved ones and friends to celebrate the blessings of the Thanksgiving and holiday season. Like most, our family has many special holiday rituals. One of our favorite rituals is assembling on Christmas Eve to read children’s books we have read as a family since the birth of our first child. We take turns reading the slightly tattered pages, worn over the years by the touch of eager and loving hands. It’s not the books so much that matter, but the sharing and remembering that bring the magic of the season alive. Caring for and about one another inspires the spirit and joy of the season.
Many of us are caretakers. In our family, caretaking comes in a variety of shades and colors. As a nurse, I am a caretaker of my patients and, as an educator, a caretaker of my students. Our middle child is completing the senior year of her nursing program, and she, too, is a caretaker.
When asked what attracted her to nursing, she responded: “I didn’t always know that I wanted to be a nurse. It wasn’t until my senior year of high school, when I took a health-care class, that I decided nursing was for me. I realized I wanted to help people, and over the course of four years in college pursuing my nursing degree, I discovered that nursing is so much more than helping people deal with their illnesses. It’s about patients putting their trust in me and sharing their fears, emotions and memories. Recently, my grandma asked me if I could picture myself pursuing any other career. I thought about it, and the answer is no. No other career would give me the opportunities and endless possibilities nursing will bring.”
Our daughter and I are not the only members of our family who are caretakers; my husband and our son are caretakers of the earth. As scientists, they strive each day to care for our natural resources—to use science to protect our land, water, and air and save our planet. Our youngest daughter is a caretaker of the earth’s furry and feathered creatures. Like the rest of our family, she is a passionate animal lover.
Many of you know that the great blue heron is the anchor of this blog. This incredible bird represents a quiet capacity to sit calmly while others lose patience. I love the great blue and, a couple days ago, was surprised with a wonderful gift. For more than a year, the wall directly opposite my desk in my new office has remained empty. I have often pondered just the right hanging for this blank and imposing wall but, because I couldn’t make a decision, it has remained bare and cheerless.
Then, on Christmas morning, I opened an expertly wrapped, large, rectangular gift. It felt like a picture frame. Oh, so curious. As I pulled away the paper and revealed the gift, imagine my delighted surprise as I gazed into the eyes of a beautiful, stately and majestic heron. This thoughtful gift from our daughters will prominently grace the wall of my office forever, reminding me to reflect calmly amidst an impatient world.
For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.
It snowed today in Boise. We often get snow in winter, though not much. In fact, the average annual precipitation for southwest Idaho is 10 inches. So, imagine my surprise when I was awakened by a “snow advisory” text message from Boise State University at 0630 this morning, announcing that classes were canceled. Seven inches of snow had fallen through the night, and Boise was covered in wintry splendor. Because my husband is traveling on business, and the children were otherwise occupied, it was left to me to clear the driveway and sidewalks. It was no easy feat—the driveway was covered by nearly two feet of drifted snow, wet and very heavy. Our yellow Lab, Laci, who loves leaping in snowdrifts, made the task even more challenging.
With hours of work ahead of me, my mind began to “drift,” and I flashed back to my childhood years in northern Illinois, where the snow seemed to arrive in September and didn’t melt until April. I grew up near Chicago, the middle child of a large Irish Catholic family. Money was tight, and my brother and I were always hatching up schemes to get rich quick. Believe me, although our schemes were inventive, they fell far short of reaping a financial windfall. But, we were industrious. Besides, serving others was part of our DNA, and we loved the snow. For us, snow meant cash in our pockets. Cha-ching! So, bring it on. With shovels in hand, we roamed the neighborhood. For a few dollars, we would clean a driveway clean as a whistle. For a few more, we would uncover a car parked along the street and, for nothing other than the thrill of it, would push a car stuck in the snow. We were hardy and opportunistic.
Today, as I struggled to remove mounds and mounds of snow, I wondered more than once, Where are today’s modern version of my brother and me? I would have paid a small fortune to have a strapping teenager show up with shovel in hand ready to make a few bills. He or she wouldn’t even need to provide the shovel, as I would have readily let them use mine. With school canceled, I thought that maybe—just maybe—there would be at least one industrious kid looking to earn some money. But it was not to be. I guess they had better things to do. As for me, as I reflected back on my childhood and watched our Lab prance through the snow, our driveway and walks were clear before I knew it. I’m going to pay myself with a nap!
For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.
Greetings, everyone. I am so excited to debut “Musing of the great blue.” Like many of you, I am a nurse, parent, spouse, scholar and teacher. My husband and I are the proud parents of three terrific children, three crazy and athletic dogs, and one very fat shelter kitty, all of whom have given us unconditional love, loyalty and a reason to get up every morning. I thoroughly enjoy cardio kickboxing, hiking, biking, cooking and reading. I especially enjoy spending time with my family, friends and pets.
I have been a nurse for most of my adult life. From the early 1980s through the mid 1990s, I worked as a psychiatric nurse, specializing in adolescent violence prevention and addiction recovery. During those years, I worked with violent youth gangs, utilizing a primary prevention model to teach aggressive teens how to settle disputes with words instead of force and weapons. Our goal was to prevent minor incidents from escalating into potentially violent episodes.
My clinical-practice experience now frames my present-day program of research and supports strategies I have developed to foster civility in nursing education and practice. As a nurse educator, I have observed incivility between nursing faculty and students and have witnessed firsthand its troubling consequences. Uncivil behavior negatively impacts the learning environment and disrupts faculty-student relationships, causing turmoil and needless distress. In the practice setting, incivility is predictive of job dissatisfaction, decreased job performance, diminished employee health and increased turnover.
My consistent and comprehensive program of research has brought these issues to bear in a thoughtful, nonjudgmental manner and has stimulated national and international dialogue on these critical issues.
You may ask, Why does civility matter? In response, I invite you to read my article “Why civility matters,” recently published in Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL).
For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.
Then, on Christmas morning, I opened an expertly wrapped, large, rectangular gift. It felt like a picture frame. Oh, so curious. As I pulled away the paper and revealed the gift, imagine my delighted surprise as I gazed into the eyes of a beautiful, stately and majestic heron. This thoughtful gift from our daughters will prominently grace the wall of my office forever, reminding me to reflect calmly amidst an impatient world.