Volunteering

Back in January I began the process of finding a place to volunteer in a therapy setting. Once I found an opening at the Hennepin County Medical Center (HCMC) it took awhile to work through the process of actually being able to begin. There was a volunteer orientation, a background check, making sure my immunizations were up to date and that I didn't have TB. Once that was completed I received the go ahead to begin. For the past three weeks I've been helping in the outpatient therapy department from 8 to 12 every Wednesday morning.

It has taken a bit of time to learn what I can do to help. I begin by making sure each booth is stocked with the necessary sheets, pillowcases and towels and help clean up after each patient leaves. I've helped with filing, making copies and empty the laundry bins a couple of times. One morning I was given the job of finding a patient's file that had been misplaced. With some clues for the therapists as to where it might be I was able to track it down.

I've also had opportunities to observe the therapists as they work with patients and a couple of the therapists go out of their way to explain different aspects of their work. HCMC is a unique situation since the patients range from high-power executives to the homeless.  Last week I played catch with an immigrant woman who needed a translator. This week I observed a woman being fitted with a portable traction device for her neck which she can use at home. I also was asked to keep an eye on a homeless man who had fallen asleep. The therapist couldn't wake him and figured there was no harm in letting him sleep for awhile. There was space and on that snowy morning, I'm sure he was delighted to have a warm, safe and comfortable environment for a nap. After she finished with her next patient she was able to wake him up and finish working with him. From what I've been able to observe, it can be a challenge to work with such a diverse group of patients but it also keeps the job interesting. You never know what will happen next.

HaHee

One of the first people I met in France was a 2 year old boy with curly hair, the usual disproportionate body with legs far too short for the size of head and body they supported and a big smile. In fact that smile was so constant that drooling was a major issue. ("HaHee, don't drool!" Slurp.) As he learned to talk he came up with his own name for everyone important in his life. Older brother was Bubba; older sister was HeeHee; I became Allie and he gave himself the name of HaHee. His influence was great since pretty soon everyone was calling me Allie. HaHee was eventually able to call himself Geoffrey (or Jo) and me Aunt Alice. I suppose it was about the same time that everyone else stopped calling me Allie.

HaHee and his family played a big part in my adapting to France. I spent that first Christmas with them (and every other one after that when I was in France.) During my first year I lived in another town but I would go visit during breaks from language school. As much as I don't like seeing a 2 year old cry, it did warm my heart when he would cry when I left. His big heart for people was evident even then. Once I moved back to Lyon, I was living on my own for the first time. It was great to be able to stop by their home (an apartment above a car dealership which meant walking through the show room to get there) any time I needed some people time and be showered with love and affection by all three of those kids (and later their younger brother.)

HaHee has grown up. His hair is kept too short to see the curls. He's way past drooling and those short legs are now quite long. However, his smile hasn't changed. Then again maybe it has. From the pictures I have seen of his wedding yesterday, his smile was as big as it could possibly get. Now it's my turn to shed a few tears because I couldn't be there to celebrate with a little boy who won my heart as a two-year old.

Here's to 60+ years of marriage to Geoffrey and Aline from Aunt Alice!!!

Online Math class

Math has always been one of my favorite classes. Finding the answer (I should call it a solution) is like figuring out a puzzle. And all answers are objective even when there are multiple answers. The downside is that I tend to make stupid mistakes (like 1+1 is 1). The only way to check my work is to do each problem twice. If I just look it over, I'm liable to agree with any mistakes I made the first time around. My math professor last semester commented that I should do it right the first time. I agree but the only way to assure that I did do it right is to do it again and see if I get the same answer.

This semester the only math class that fit into my schedule is primarily online. While it is nice not to have to go to class three mornings a week, it seems to take much more time than the traditional classroom. What a professor can explain in 5 minutes takes over an hour of going through an online book and filling out worksheets. When I can't figure something out the answer to my question is buried somewhere in a 5 to 10 minute video. Then there are the problems to do on top of that which take at least an hour and sometimes more.

This past weekend I went to see my family. Since I don't have classes on Friday I left Thurs afternoon and came back on Monday morning. I felt like I spent all day Friday and Saturday working on math. It would have been much more enjoyable to play with my niece on Saturday morning! In the process my two other classes were neglected and I'm feeling behind facing a test in Chemistry on Wednesday and a quiz in Lifespan Development.  Of course there is always more math to do. I will make it to the end of the semester (only 1 more month) but I don't ever want to take an online math class again. There are two options for college Algebra this summer: one is online and the other is every morning from 8 to 10. I will gladly get out of the house every morning and show up to class!

Transition

I've been back in the US for 9 months. I've moved to a new city and learned my way around; gone back to school and rediscovered what it means to study; found a new church and made some new friends. I enjoy being closer to family and I made it through a real winter. (I'm really glad that spring is here!) I've found work (and actually received my first paycheck).

When I first arrived I was told that it would take 2 or 3 years to adjust. Some weeks, in the midst of my routine, I think it might not take that long or be as hard as people make it out to be. But I'm learning that the hard part seems to come in waves. I'm in the midst of one of those waves now. It's hard enough to understand my emotions so putting them into words is difficult. I guess in many ways it feels like grief though it's hard to put a finger on exactly what I'm grieving. I know I miss my friends in France and many different aspects of life there. I'm thankful it's just a wave and this too shall pass. In the meantime I have the opportunity to keep trusting God's faithfulness to his promises to work all things out for my eternal good and his eternal glory.

This past week I went to see the movie Of Gods and Men. It's in French with subtitles so I was delighted when a non-French-speaking friend said she would go with me. In many ways it combined things I've been missing as it tells the story of 7 French monks in Algeria who were martyred in 1996. I felt at home in the mix of North African and French languages and cultures. And somehow their individual struggles to decide whether to stay or leave because of the danger was encouraging. In the midst of it all, they found strength in their routine tasks and the Daily Offices. They did what was before them and trusted God with the rest.