Logan & Amy’s Blog

This weekend Amy was out of town visiting her little brother in school (college) and I was left spending the weekend diddling on my computer, playing with Odin, and probably going to church Sunday morning. There’s really nothing bizarre in the fact of my church going, in fact I would consider myself a regular churchman (gasp) who subscribes to the literal teachings of Jesus (what?!!) and attempt to live a life aspiring to his commands (you must be on drugs). Anyways, that’s another blog for another time and place, and it always seems to spark debate by the near mention of His name. So back to my weekend, besides fiddling on my computer, that’s a highly technical term for geeking out, and watching Odin grow, I have come to the realization he’s going to be a very big dog, I decided I needed a cultural adventure.  Instead of attending my regular church, your typical non-denominational evangelical protestant all American country church, I had this crazy hair to attend St. Innocent’s Russian Orthodox Church. For those who may not know, the Russian Orthodox Church is a sect or denomination of Eastern Orthodox Church. In context to the ecumenical church, the Eastern Orthodox Church split away from Western Orthodoxy (or Roman Catholicism) after the Great Schism of 1054. Next to the Roman Catholic Church, the Eastern Church holds the second largest body of believers in the world.

From my regular pilgrimages to Portland, I had noticed this cool barn like structure that had these golden onion shaped domes just outside of Rogue River, Oregon. One day my curiosity overtook me and I had to drive out to the church and find out what it was. I had seen Greek Orthodox churches, from my travels in the Middle East, and I have seen Russian Orthodox churches with their brightly colored onion domes in magazines such as National Geographic, but never in rural southern Oregon. (ORYgun)  One day out of sheer boredom, much like this past weekend, Amy and I drove out to the church and to verify that what I had seen wasn’t visions or hallucinations from driving 4+ hours from Portland. To our pleasant surprise, it was a Russian Orthodox Church that was ornamented with iconographic art. Anyways, it was a very cool building, and it’s on the east side of I-5 just south of Rogue River. There were some flyers describing what Orthodoxy and service times. Furthermore, there was an article done by our local paper, The Mail Tribune, about the church and a new temporary building that the congregation was meeting at. Anyone interested in attending should call Father Seraphim, the priest and get directions, according to the Mail Tribune. As I said in the beginning of this article, I needed some cultural thrills, I gave Father a call and got directions. By the way, he sounded like a very kind person and someone who truly believed what he preached. The directions were a little obscure but Google Maps thankfully guided my way.

It took nearly an hour to drive out to my destination, and to say the least it was remote. As I was driving, I started to think that perhaps I was stepping into some estranged Jonestown cult. I was starting to have second doubts about this adventure, but something kept my foot on the pedal.

 After finally arriving to the church’s property, or what was a secluded house with some cars parked in a large driveway, I met one of the congregants outside. Not exactly sure if the house was the church or if it was a barn like structure up on a hill, I asked directions from the (assuming to be) church member. Who was a mother and at the time trying to get her young daughter ready for church service, and she explained it was the structure up on a little knoll in the woods. So I walk up the hill into the trees toward the building. As I came to doors, which were two very large wooden medieval appearing doors, I heard what appeared to be singing. Well this was it, I wasn’t sure if I was tricked into attending some cult that was attempting to recruit naive church hoppers. Figuring if I didn’t take the communion I should be fine, so I opened the doors and stepped into the church, or was hoping was a church.

What I experienced, to say the least, was sublime. I would have to say I had a Lewis “wardrobe” experience. I stepped into a world that from the outside didn’t appear to exist. What I thought to be a regular barn on the outside, inside was an incredible display or glimpse of something heavenly and truly divine. The floors were made of marble, the walls were decorated with biblical scenes and heavenly music filled the entire church. I am not one who is easily moved, but this was an experience I will never forget that moistened my eyes and reminded me of the beauty and grace that God could only conceive. The building had perfect harmonics, and a congregation of only 20 sang and prayed the entire service. What was alien to me was the fact there were no pews, everyone was standing, and men and women were segregated. The service was lead by Father Seraphim, or should I say conducted, for he sang the entire service and the congregation and choir responded to his melodic commands. The father was equipped with a long white sapient beard and a voice fitting to his name. After an hour of standing of praying, singing, more praying, foreign liturgical rituals, father Seraphim finally gave the message.  We were at this time allowed to sit on the non-orthopedic correct bench against the walls, again women on one side and men on the other. Father Seraphim gave a beautiful message about the prodigal son and offered some encouraging words for those struggling with any carnal sins. After the message communion was served, only for those who have been baptized as Orthodox (which is an excellent rant for another blog), then more singing and praying, and then finally blessed bread was distributed to the congregation. I still need to do some more research as to the traditional significance of this blessed bread, I’m assuming it’s the same bread used during communion aka the Eurcharist. After two hours of worship and a mildly sore back the service came to an end.

After the service, a couple in the congregation was getting married. Apparently the service was open to everyone. Since I happen to have nothing special going on, and was about an hour away from home. I figured what the “hay”, lets watch a Russian Orthodox wedding as well! To the right is a picture of two crowns which the bride and groom wear during the ceremony. The entire ordeal lasted over an hour, and this time there were probably 50 people inside the tiny chapel. It was a very interesting event and I was glad I stuck around to witness it.

After that, well I drove home, slightly sore back and have a little better understanding of the Eastern Church. I look forward to having further conversations with Father Seraphim and/or anyone in an Orthodox church. Overall it was a very positive experience and has excited me to learn more about this wonderful church.

Prepare for a nursey venting session in…3….2….1….. 

If any one of you has ever worked the night shift, you know what I’m talking about.  There’s a reason it’s called “graveyard” - because that’s where you feel like you belong after working a week of it.  You feel dead to the world of the living, otherwise known as the day shift.  We constantly envy these fortunate souls who have a set routine that makes their circadian rhythms  just thrive.  To them, at least the timing of their daily lives seems to make sense.  It’s taken for granted, even, if one doesn’t know any differently.  (I try not to hold it against them.)  On night shift, you sleep during the day before you work to prepare for your shift, and you sleep the day after you work to recuperate.  It adds a day onto your workweek simply to switch back to a somewhat normal lifestyle.  It can become depressing due to the lack of human contact, especially when your days off consist of staying up late into the night.  You miss out on the sunlight that would raise your serotonin levels and improve your mood.    You feel constantly exhausted, regardless of how much you’ve slept.  The rest of the world tends to wonder what your problem is.  It seems as though most of us night-shifters can fall asleep anywhere.  (But for those of you who know me well, this was true of me before I ever worked nights!)

Since I’m risking sounding like a huge complainer, I’d better keep some perspective here.  The positive side is that night shift does pay better, and it tends to have great teamwork and a slightly less hectic pace due to less ringing phones and visitors.  And in a hospital setting, someone has to take care of the patients at night.  It is kind of satisfying to tuck them in and watch them (hopefully) sleep peacefully.  Plus, “I work the night shift” is a great excuse for most anything!

However, in spite of these meager benefits, it is my conjecture that the research community will continue to find reasons why night shift shortens your lifespan, increases your risk for health problems, and is a compelling reason why PMS in night-shift females is much worse.  Do I hear an “amen” out there?

I do try to take responsibility for my own decisions, especially when I’m venting in a public forum.  And while I am obviously unhappily working nights, I admit I chose it because I had a higher priority: I wanted to gain experience in this critical care area.  I have found that I love this area, and I never could have handled days at the start of this job.  Now that I’ve gained some experience, I never give up hope that a day shift position will magically appear under my radar.  In the meantime, it’s great blogging material.

For some interesting articles on the night shift dilemma, check out these sites:

Night Shift Survival Tips (Emergency Nursing World)

http://www.enw.org/NightShift.htm

Scientists have made great strides in figuring out how the body regulates the sleep cycle

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/6214314/site/newsweek/

In the Dark: Night-shift workers can feel isolated, hostile — and just plain tired

I truly hope that everyone had a great Valentines Day. I always used to despise, or actually be envious, of those who had a Valentine. (I’m a late bloomer) But as you all know the clouds have lifted and Cupid and the gods have smiled favorably upon me this year, or they finally took pity. Not to get too spoony or sappy, however, I couldn’t be more fortunate than having Amy as my Valentine. (ahhh shucks…) 

Anyways, to sum up my day yesterday, it was really quite sweet. Amy had purchased tickets at the beautiful Cascade Theatre in Redding, California for the showing of Amelie. For those who have never seen Amelie, it is a great foreign film and extremely funny. The show was sponsored by JPR. The old theatre was incredible, and there was dessert and great music prior to the show. Oh yeah, and Amy had planned all of this in secret. She picked me up early from work and drove me down there. Yes, I know, she’s the best.

Last night Amy took me out to a great show at the Mojo Rising, a typical pretentious Ashland yuppie hangout, featuring a great blue grass group called The Wilders. Besides the smug feel of the venue, the show was absolutely incredible. Even if you’re not a blue grass fan, The Wilders have so much energy and excitement with their music that you have to at least see them once. Actually, honestly, I have never even heard of the Wilders, but they’ve been around since the early 90s playin mean banjos, steel guitars, and mandolins. The cheeky and crazy personality of this band along with their music will just infect your body to want to jump, hoot, holler and howl. This band is anything but daft.

Well this is our first blog. Welcome any wandering internet sojourner or permanent fan. We hope to use this site to allow us to rant and rave , post interesting ideas, and generate great conversation. We really look forward to see how this site develops.

 Cheers!