"See these scars on my arms? It's from shrapnel. They happened in 1956 during the Hungarian uprising. I was working as a nurse back then and we got attacked by people who wanted to hurt doctors and nurses. One doctor lost his leg and another nurse lost her arm."
After that story, she gives me a big smile and asks, "Now tell me dear, where are you from?'
...
A few days ago, I was lamenting to my dad over the phone about the long drives I have to work now that I've been placed somewhere rural, and my fears about falling asleep on the drives home after a night shift.
He sighed, and said to me then - "Well, I really hope you enjoy what you're doing."
The truth is.. I do. Very much so. I often catch myself feeling very grateful that I am blessed with this job I have now and the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life. I think back to the years I spent dreaming of making it through medical school, and I can't help but feel so amazed by how faithful God has been through it all, carrying me through step by step to where I am now.
I'm thankful for the elderly patients I get to meet, particularly those who share their stories with me - stories of a completely different era and world. What an honour it is really, to be transported in time for a brief moment and be reminded of how truly blessed we are to live in such different seasons now.
