Small Town Life

Small town life

Some people hate it.  Most people live their lives trying to get out of it. 

I don't see what's so wrong with it. 

Sure, people may get a little catty and gossip a lot. It's just like any family, and we usually get over it. Nobody can get away with anything in our small town because we all know each other. (That's always been fun for me; I enjoy it when people know who I am just by seeing the resemblance to my parents or grandparents!) When we call the credit union or bank, we don't need to give our last name because 99% of the time we know the person on the phone. Our pharmacist makes deliveries. Our locally owned store and restaurants let people keep tabs because they know we'll be back to pay it soon. We are related to most people, and if we're not, we know people who are. We literally have mutual friends with everyone in town, and probably the county! We can't escape a trip to the gas station without seeing the face of someone we know. We make the front page of the paper or  the 6:00 news for the most trivial of accomplishments. Whether we want to be or not, we are deeply invested in small town life.

I've spent my entire adult life being made fun of for loving Manton, which hurts my feelings, but I'm not afraid to say that I'm proud of my hometown. I'm proud of the PEOPLE in my hometown. With two deaths in the Manton community in the last 36 hours, so much has already been done to help those suffering. This isn't anything new. This is the way it's always been. When there's a tragedy, friends and neighbors, even acquaintances and strangers will go out of their way to help in any way possible. When there's a cancer diagnosis, an accident, an unexpected death, we pull together and help. Not only in the bad times, but the good as well. We celebrate and have fun together, too. What a blessing that is!

No longer do I live in Manton. Now I live in a place with the number of people residing in the city limits being equal to those in my entire home COUNTY.  I don't even try to explain the close bond Mantonites share. My coworker said "Wow, you have a lot of deaths in your hometown," and I had to think about that. It may seem that way, but the reality of it is that because we are such a small community, every death seems more personal. Every tragedy impacts all of us. Each misfortune feels like it's happening to our immediate family. 

We ARE a family. Never will you meet a band of people who will fight for you like those from a small town. Especially those from a small town in Northern Michigan. It's comforting to know there are 1,300+ people who will always have my back, and I can guarantee I'll always have theirs.

I love you, Manton, and let's stay Manton Strong!

***More specifically: Let's lift the Stanley family up in prayer, and support them in any way possible. Also please pray for the Weaver family, as Red passed away today. Two firefighters who served our community are now serving the Lord in Heaven.

For information on how you can help the Stanleys, see the story on 9&10 News' website: http://www.9and10news.com/story/28825420/manton-man-remembered-after-unexpected-death#

   

I leave you with some verses I found that apply to our situation.

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." -Revelation 21:4

"And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do then? He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise." -Luke 3:10-11

In "Hymn" We Trust

        Tonight my church had a "hymn sing," which I had never heard of or been a part of. Over 60 people from multiple churches came together to make one big choir, and members of the community and of each church filled the pews. As the entire congregation joined the choir to sing "Saved, Saved!" I got goosebumps as the first chorus ended. I marveled in the awesomness that is God, the Creator. What an amazing thing to hear so many of His people in one place lifting our voices to Him in praise.

"I bet this is kind of what Heaven will be like," I thought to myself. 

Multiple people gave special music, and two different families sang accapella with their 5 children! I would LOVE to do that someday but I don't think I'm that musically inclined. I was inspired to take piano lessons again. I wonder if there's a piano teacher who can teach older re-learners like me? It would be worth checking into I think! I still don't know what my passion is and how I can use it to help others, but I think music (or more specifically, the piano) is high on the list. 

During the service, the most adorable baby woke up and was looking around and smiling at people. I got a lump in my throat wondering when it will be MY turn to have a beautiful baby like that. When will it be MY turn to sing to my children and teach them the great hymns of the faith? Trying to not be selfish, I put the thoughts aside and continued to enjoy the music.

The last song the huge choir sang was "It Is Well With My Soul". This song has a history with me and my church family back home, and I couldn't hold the tears back. Even though this song triggers memories of a horrible day, if I think about the lyrics in the verses in a different sense, they are just so powerful!  "My sin, not in part, but the whole is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord, PRAISE THE LORD, oh my soul....Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight. The clouds be rolled back as a scroll. The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend. Even so, it is well with my soul!"

It was a joyful evening spent with a room full of strangers, but all with a common love for Christ. I wish this is how every day ended!

Dementia - a COTA's Prose

I type in the code to enter the locked unit. Only the most confused and demented patients are kept here, and are locked in for their own safety. I walk the long hallway with shiny wood floors and enter the main gathering room. It's bright and cheerful, with large windows allowing for a view of the sunset in the evening. Elderly people are scattered all over the room; some dozing in recliners, others wander aimlessly in wheelchairs or on foot, while another sits in the corner playing with a baby doll. 

My patient, M, is in a recliner sleeping. To wake him, I must pat his leg and yell directly into his ear in order for him to hear me. He stirs, smiles, and is thrilled when I ask if he would like to work on an activity with me. Before he stands, I unplug the chair alarm safety device that will squawk loudly once his weight leaves the chair. He walks faster than most, and is fairly cognizant, though his hearing makes communication difficult

"Let's get out of here!" he says, after participating in our sorting activity for about 4 minutes.

"Ok, let's go!" I yell. Off he goes with his blue 4 wheeled walker. We walk the two long halls and look outside, a place he hasn't been in weeks. He speaks clearly, when he can hear my questions, and is a joyful man. 

After about a half hour, I help M back to his chair for the rest of his nap, making sure to turn his chair alarm back on so the aides will be alerted if he decides to wander. I walk the long hallway and wonder why he is in the dementia unit as punch in a different code to exit.

The next day, I go back to The Meadows, as it's called. It's lunch time, and all of the residents are gathered around the tables with trays of food in front of them. I pull up a chair next to my patient, and scream hello into is ear is a wave. He smiles and says hello. He continues to eat his lunch in a slow fashion. He doesn't have enough strength or dexterity to use a fork in the proper way, so he scoops the food onto it like one would do with a spoon. It's hard not to reach out and help him as his hand shakes and most of the food falls off the fork. One time I do break from my role as  therapist, and help him by stabbing a piece of chicken with the fork and putting it back in his hand. 

"Don't you think I know how to eat?!" M says loudly.

I sit back and let him finish, monitoring his hand movements, coordination, and efficiency. A half hour later, he is still finishing his food, slowly but surely. He says he enjoyed the meal. Our treatment time is up, and he says goodbye with a wide smile.

        I return at lunch time the next day and greet M in the usual way. He is nearly asleep in his plate of food. My attempts to wake him are unsuccessful. His hands are clasped together tightly, and I try to separate them. No luck. I try to place his fork in his right hand, but am met with tightly gripped fingers. The nursing staff reports that he has been this way all day.

As I try to rouse M, I notice a woman in her sixties sitting next to a much older woman lying in a geriatric recliner chair. The lady in the chair is so small, she looks nearly skeletal. She has no teeth, doesn't speak, but cries out randomly. The woman next to her holds a spoon, scoops up some pureed food, and brings it to the elderly woman's mouth. She eats from the spoon.

"Mom, swallow!" the woman commands as gently as possible. I realize her mother doesn't understand she needs swallow pureed mush without a verbal cue to do so. 

The daughter gazes into her mother's face, and I can see the sorrow in her eyes. I try not to stare as I imagine this now decrepit old lady as a young woman, caring for her daughter, feeding her, and teaching her how to walk. The tables have certainly turned. I learn the daughter returns almost daily to feed her mother. 

This is dementia. This is real life. And sometimes life isn't fair or easy. Through it all, I attempt to be a blessing in all of my patients' lives, whether they remember me the next day or not. 

Passion: What's Yours?

“What is my passion?”

This is the question I’ve been asking myself for the past two months. While Katie and I were in Ponte Vedra on the golf course, we had hours and hours to discuss everything under the sun (literally!) I’m not sure how it came up, but I said something along the lines of “…it’s not my passion, but I enjoy it.” Katie replied, “What IS your passion?” She has a knack for asking the deep, thought provoking questions, probably from that humanities degree she possesses! I doubt she even remembers inquiring, but it struck me like lightning. I didn’t have an answer. How can one not know this about oneself? What is my passion?

There are plenty of things I enjoy and that make me happy, such as Jesus, family, music, reading, writing, the Bible, crafts, travel, the sky, sewing, fashion, shoes, football, the beach, yoga, Petoskey stones….but what is my PASSION?

I’ve asked others what their passion is, and most have an answer right away. Well, except my parents. My dad said his passion is “eating cookies, retiring in 2 years, and being debt free as of next week,” but he is just being silly! My dear friend Teresa’s passion is music. She has a beautiful voice and I love it when she sings to us and patients at work (except when she sings songs about snow!) My little brother is only 14, so I don’t expect him to have a concrete answer, but I truly believe golf is his passion. I have no doubt he will be a professional golfer someday if he wants to be! My other little brother’s passion is deer hunting. “I get a nervous twitch every spring because I just can’t wait for fall to come so I can go hunting!” he said. What makes me twitch with excitement and anticipation?

My next stop was the Bible, but that didn’t help me much when it comes to the actual word “passion” in the Word. Remember, I use the KJV, so it’s only listed 2 times. To further my research, I busted out the family dictionary, as well as my dictionary my Grandpa gave me when I was in middle school. Yes, we actually still have dictionaries in our home that we used for school work! There was no Google back then, kids! The New International Webster’s Pocket Dictionary defines passion as “intense emotion” while the more specific American Heritage Dictionary (2^nd edition, copyright 1985!) defines passion as “2.a. Ardent, adoring love…3. a. boundless enthusiasm. b. the object of such enthusiasm.” (It defines “ardent” as “b. Displaying or characterized by strong enthusiasm or devotion.”)  The trusty ol’ Merriam-Webster website says it best, in my opinion: “Passion: a strong feeling of enthusiasm or excitement for something or about doing something.”

Many people expect one’s work to be their passion. It would be such a blessing to be able to have a career fueled by passion! Though my field of work is very rewarding at times and I’m given the opportunity to improve people’s lives daily, it’s not something I wake up and am thrilled to get out and do. Even when I worked in skilled nursing facilities with elderly people (my favorite people!), it was a tough job. Between dealing with insurance companies, inadequate office space/materials/chain of command, being underpaid, and feeling underappreciated, having a career is not all it’s cracked up to be. My ultimate career goal is to one day be a wife and mother, but I feel as though other people should not be one’s passion in life. Especially other people I don't have in my life yet! We need to find ourselves and what makes us joyful, rather than looking to others for fulfillment and happiness.

If I had been asked this question a few years ago, I would’ve probably said music. I am not a talented musician, though I try to play piano (or I would, if I had my piano still…) and used to play clarinet in band. *nerd alert* Listening to and discovering music is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes I will actually hyperventilate when I hear an amazing song. Music has always been a favorite of mine, as evidenced by my obsession with Billy Ray Cyrus in the early 1990s that I will willingly admit to! My parents went to a Def Leppard concert when Mom was pregnant with me, so I think that’s where the love started. I grew up listening to Southern Gospel and 80s hair bands, then started in with *NSYNC and the like. When I finally accepted *NSYNC’s breakup in 2003, my music taste branched out into pop-punk, alternative, underground awesomeness. Over the past few years I have been a little more careful what I allow myself to listen to (usually no swearing) and the music I discovered at age 14 and 15 is still probably my favorite. I now listen to Christian music, but only if it’s good quality, as in the artists are actually talented. Lately even country music is crossing my radar. I used to despise country! Ha! I have also been to more than 80 concerts, varying from local shows to world-wide arena tours. (I write down each one so I can remember who I saw when)

But music seems more like a past-time or my #1 hobby to me. Going to shows used to make me super excited, but now that I’m an old 25 year old with a career, waiting 12 hours in line on the street in downtown Detroit to get a good spot in front of the mosh pit just doesn’t sound appealing. My love of music will always exist, but it will always be changing, lessening at times, and growing at others.

While trying to figure out my passion, I thought of the meaning behind NEEDTOBREATHE’s name. The band’s former drummer explains it like this: “The name comes from a story I heard on a youth retreat. It’s about the philosopher Socrates. He taught several students by a small body of water. One of the students asked Socrates, ‘How do I know when I’m truly seeking wisdom in my life?’ Instead of answering the student, Socrates walked over to him and shoved the student’s head underneath the water. Socrates held him down until the student tried to force his way up for a breath. Then he let him up. As the student tried to regain composure, Socrates said, ‘When you desire for wisdom as much as you need to breathe, that’s when you know you’re seeking it.’” Seeking God should be as important to us in this way. The only thing I can think of that I absolutely cannot live without is my faith and love for the Lord. Honestly some days I wish I could just stay home and study the Bible all day because it is so incredible and I just can't get enough! Sometimes I am so excited about what the Lord is doing in my life, I can't help but talk about Him. Could serving Jesus be my passion? Or serving Him BY serving others? When I offer to help someone who really needs it, I find myself to be offended if they never take me up on the offer. I have been exploring this idea in my mind for a while, and I’m not sure where it will lead me, but I think this is a start! If only there was a way to combine all of my interests and loves into one career! That will have to be another blog post…

Now I want to ask my readers: What is your passion? Was this an easy question for you to answer, or did it take some thought? Please share, whether in a comment here, on Facebook, or on Twitter @ShanelSeger

Have a wonderful week!

“But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.” –Matthew 19:26