Considering we’re halfway through winter now, I thought it’d be great to share my best poem as of late. This piece of information would be helpful for you to know, dear reader: I use a beach chair to sit by the fire during wintertime. Enjoy!
Out my front doorway
Look there you’ll see
Epic waves of wind
Crashing into trees
Tides shift the shoreline again
My leaves, a sea, litter the ground
As sticks and twigs bob here and there
Some splash in sanguine, making sound
Glance off my back porch
Notice the small and tiny leaves
Incessantly they strike down and let up
To resemble black and white piano keys
Peace hits me exuberantly
As I savor season change
Yet I experience it sullenly
As leaves decay, looking gross
Clumping together by my shed
The temperatures, turning bitter
Hit endlessly my body and head
Sweat drenches me with blankets
And that damn space heater I fear
Might suddenly trip, burn or kill me
By the bathroom when I come near
Can I now recall
This winter from fall
Than this beach chair
As into our lives we stare
Sipping whiskey by the fire
You join me now free to admire
Male nurses are an interesting subject to discuss, especially these days. However, I want to point out a story of one particular male nurse in the American Civil War who deserved to lay his head somewhere.
Union officer David Lane served as a nurse for a time in the 17th Michigan Volunteer Infantry. He provided care for up to 30 men in his ward, along with the help of 5 other nurses as he writes in his diary entry on January 5, 1864. That was not the problem though, since only two of the recovering party could not take care of themselves. The issue laid (no pun intended, well maybe…) with the sleeping arrangements (or lack there of) for the nurses.
There was literally no place for these nurses to sleep, unless you count the floor that they laid on amidst their sick. They would even go to another part of the hospital, like that of a holding area for men about to be sent back to duty, in order to warm themselves by the mean fires kept there. Such was the case of Mr. Lane, until a new surgeon relieved their ward.
Side Note Question: Can you imagine constantly hanging around your place of bidness, because you have no where else to go to stay warm or sleep!?!
One morning the surgeon, a new arrival and a stranger to me, noticed me standing by the fire, and thought from my appearance I was fit for duty.
“To what regiment do you belong?” “The Seventeenth Michigan, sir.”
“How long have you been here?” “About six weeks.”
“What are you doing?” “Nursing.” “Where?” “In the first ward.”
“What business have you here, then?” “No business, only to warm myself. It is rather cold standing in the street today, when off duty.”
“What, have the nurses no place to stay?” “No, sir; they are as poor as was the Son of Man; they have no place to lay their heads.”
This surgeon was Dr. Cogswell, of the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts, who had lately relieved Dr. Fox. In a few minutes I was notified this pleasant room was at our disposal. (Source: Daily Observations From the Civil War)
I am simply amazed by Mr. Lane. Not only was he completely honest about his situation, but I get the sense that he was humble in his attitude toward his circumstances. I don’t know if I could say that I’d not have a sense of entitlement were I in such a predicament. Even those who serve need to be served themselves! Yet, Lane was humble.
Furthermore, David Lane served others as Jesus Christ, living out his faith so much so that he identified his service and position in life with that of his Savior. May this story be to me and you a testimony of the Son of Man alive in us, as we come also to serve and not be served in our place of work, vocation, or otherwise.
Until next time, Serve & Sleep well…