I just wrote this for a class and I felt the need to post it on here. That's it :)
Section I: Where I Come From
I was born in Salem,
Oregon in the year 1992. Linda May Culton, Paul Chadwick Culton are my older,
all-be-it, determined parents. My mother was 42 when she had me, so to be
certain, I am the youngest child. I have two siblings, a 42-year-old brother
and a 35-year-old sister. Over the past twenty years, I have told countless
people my sibling’s ages and the response is always the same; disbelief. Yet,
this is where the story really begins. My mother fell in love with an Army man
at the young age of 16. After being engaged for two years while her brave
soldier fought for freedom in Vietnam, they were wed on his five day R and R in
Hawaii. Soon after, he returned from war and she was pregnant with my brother,
Patrick. He was born when my mother was almost 20. Having the desire for
another child, my mother and Tony tried to conceive. After no success, my
mother’s outlook was grim. Then, my mother’s cousin found out she was pregnant,
yet she could not care for the child. Having called my mother – which in itself
was an answer to my mother’s prayers – she flew out to California to give birth
to the blessed child. Rebekah was adopted by my mother Linda and her husband
Tony within 24 hours of her birth. Following that blessing, my mother had 4 miscarriages with Tony. This is the part of the story where my future begins to
unfold.
Tony passed away due to being sprayed with Agent Orange
while in Vietnam. They had a year together after his diagnosis of idiopathic
pulmonary fibrosis. So, to summarize, my mother had four miscarriages, her
husband passed away, leaving her with two children; one 18, the other 11. My
mother married my father one year later. They wed, and once again, my mother
began the conception process. With two miscarriages, her outlook again was
grim. Until my birth, my mother had had six miscarriages. Then, she was done
trying, and had three beautiful children.
My father, mother, sister, and I lived in Salem, Oregon
for three years. Two years in an old Victorian house and one year in an apartment;
the moving had begun. We moved to eastern Oregon to be missionaries to migrant
workers. My father speaks Spanish fluently so he was able to communicate and my
mother and I tried our best. We did that until I was four when my parents
decided to leave the ministry to be interim pastors at a quaint little Baptist church
in Owyhee, Oregon. Move number three. Following our stent at Owyhee, we moved to
Nyssa, Oregon where we kept our roots for 3 years before moving to Oravada,
Nevada for 6 months to once again do missions work. Move number four. Our fifth
move took us back to Nyssa, until our sixth move took us to the western part of
Oregon. We moved into a duplex in Canby, Oregon where my mother continued
homeschooling me. Then, we didn’t have a home; just a storage unit. We lived
with our pastor for 6 months – move number seven – and then did missions for 3
months in Cove, Oregon – mover number eight – before being able to buy a trailer
home in a trailer community in Aurora, Oregon – move number nine. When all
seemed calm, we moved to California for 6 months while my father worked with
his brother. Move number ten. Our eleventh move was back to the trailer where I
went finished my secondary education in the local school district, and where my
parents still reside and have lived for the past 9 years. To say that change is
a common part of my life would be an understatement.
Through all of the moves that I experienced, my parents
were loyal through and through. My father had a multitude of odd-jobs,
obviously giving us cause for all of those moves. The most influential role my
father has played in my life is teaching me to be confident in who I am and to
not be easily embarrassed. He did this unintentionally. I learned a lot of
these characteristics throughout my life after my father was diagnosed with
Asperger’s Syndrome (AS) when I was 5. This is a neurological disorder under
the Autism spectrum. The most common symptom of this syndrome is being socially
awkward or inept. Over the past 15 years of learning about AS and living with a
father with AS, being comfortable in socially uncomfortable situations has
become a specialty of mine. As far as my mother is concerned, she taught me to
be flexible; a value I will never take for granted. My mother would always say,
“Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be broken;” a mantra she borrowed
from her pastor. The other value I learned from my mother is love. To give love
and to be loved is one of the most precious gifts people share and should be
treasured as such. She also taught me cleanliness, but that is a value I am
still learning to appreciate.
All of our moves introduced me to a multitude of people;
positively influential people and negative situations that turned into positive
influences. One such person was Kris Ward, my Sunday school teacher when I was
4 and the grandmother of my best friend at the time. I would go over to her
house all of the time and she would just love me and treat me as her own
daughter. Kris was able to lower the amount of brat I gave off and raise the
humble and gentile side of me that had been hidden away. She treated me well
and encouraged me with the love of God. This woman helped me to lay a solid
foundation which was shaken when I was a sophomore in high school.
My first ever boyfriend, Zach, told me after three months
of “dating,” that he was gay and there was nothing I could do about it. This
moment was when my values of love and flexibility were questioned. How could I
love someone who shook my world so much and introduced me to worldly pain? Yet,
when I told him I did not agree with his choice, yet I still loved him as a
person, he threatened me by saying, “You only think it’s wrong because your
parents do.” My faith became my own when I responded, “No Zach, God blatantly
says that what you have chosen is a sin, and that is why I believe what I do. I
love you as a person, but I hate your sin.” Since that time, I have been living
my faith, and not merely standing on the morals that my parents hold to.
Another value I hold is to appreciate life. This is
important to me because, a common occurrence in my life has been death. I have
been to 7 funerals, all of people whom I loved. Yet, the most influential death
in my life thus far was the death of my four-year-old cousin, Braydon Douglas
Taylor. I have written countless papers about how much Braydon’s death impacted
my life, but with regards to this paper, I will look at the aspect of nursing.
Braydon was diagnosed with a medulloblastoma, with is a fancy way of saying he
had cancer in his cerebellum, at the age of three. We – my rather large family –
celebrated his fourth birthday at the hospital and a week and a half later, he
passed away. The reason Braydon’s death caused me to realize that I was
supposed to be a nurse all hinged on one interaction with Braydon’s nurse.
I was singing “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands” to
my comatose cousin when she walked in. I was by myself, and, assuming that she
would want me to be quiet, I stopped singing. However, she surprised me by
saying, “No! Keep singing! Hearing is the last thing to go. I know he can hear
you.” So, I sang. He didn’t move. And I wept. That was my freshman year of high
school, and since then, I have known I was to go to school to become a nurse.
However, finances were not something I had thought to account for. One of the odd-jobs
my father had was teaching English as a Second Language to fifth graders.
During 2001, my father lost his teaching job, and has been unemployed since
that time. My mother works full time, yet with an income of about $38,000 a
year, it is safe to say that my family would be in the “upper-lower class”
bracket as far as economics are concerned and that number is not promising when
looking to come to Northwest University. But, as He has proved time and time
again, God is good to provide. The same day that I went to register for classes
at a community college in Oregon, my uncle called and told me that whatever I
couldn’t afford to go to Northwest, he would pay for. And now, here I am.
Section II: Who I Am
I have always enjoyed school. I love to learn and I
actually enjoy doing homework – most of the time. God has just been so faithful
to me to bring people into my life who have encouraged me to follow my heart
and do what He has called me to do; which is to love others for his glory and
in his name. Once I was accepted in to Northwest University, I was instantly
nervous. Had high school really prepared me for college? Would my little Podunk
education from Farmville, U.S.A. give me the tools to be successful at a
private university? Well, as most Christians learn, it is in our weakest
moments that God proves himself strong and mighty. And usually, his plan is way
better than our own.
My freshman year of college, I considered changing my
major to education because I didn’t think I was really cut out to be a nurse.
This doubt came almost exactly four years after Braydon’s death. And not only
was it doubt, it was fear. I was scared that I was going to fail. I was nervous
that my uncle’s investment would be a failure. I was worried about letting all
of the people who had poured love into me down. My obstacle was no longer
finances, nor was it opportunity, it was me.
After much prayer and petition, I knew that I was
supposed to be a nurse and that was just how it was going to be. I also knew
that missionary work was of high priority to me. In actuality, missions was the
other deciding factor aside from Braydon’s death for my becoming a nurse. I
wanted to be an undercover missionary if you will. I wanted to spread God’s
word in countries where God’s word was forbidden. And more than that, I wanted
a way to be able to “go into the entire world” (Mark 16:15). Nursing was that opportunity. All doubts,
fears, worries, anxieties, and nervousness aside, nursing was it; my calling,
my future, and now, my present.
The values that I have acquired over the past twenty
years have just solidified my calling to be a nurse. Nursing offers the ability
to love someone despite any afflictions they may have. To offer them the best
possible care and to give it to them as if their lives depended on it; which,
it does. I love to give love. To be held in someone’s eyes as a source of
Christ. I am not a “fixer” of broken people. I am merely a tool that God is
able to use to mend. I’ve tried to fix people; Zach was the first person I
tried to fix. That fell apart. I am just a tool that can be used to implement a
feeling of love and care into someone’s life who may have never felt loved or
cared about. Sure, I have had friends call me “mom” and friends laugh at my
desire to help when someone has a cut. But, that’s not what nursing is about
for me. Of course, help people. But, in doing so, I hope to be able to relay
love. That is my main objective.
Having experienced so much death was another deciding
factor to pursue nursing as a life-long career. Death has a way of morphing who
we are. My grandfather’s death was felt in a different way than the death of my
nine-year-old friend killed in a car accident. However, both deaths changed my
outlook. I can remember as a child thinking about how death was just so
foreign. Why would that happen? What happens? Questions often plagued my mind
as to why Tony died. Why would a middle-aged man die and as a consequence, I
would be brought into this world? I often feared that my sister would be
embittered at the thought that her dad had to die so that I could have life.
But, as said, death morphs who we are; either for the better or the worse.
To me, death is as much a part of life as breathing is.
We can’t do anything without it, yet it is something that is completely taken
for granted. Rather, life is taken for granted and death projects that truth. I
felt that having had experience with death would help me in the nursing world.
By no means am I saying death is comfortable for me. Nor is it something I look
forward to. It takes its toll every time. Pain comes whether or not I want it
to and without fail, the same questions are asked. Why did this happen? How
could this happen? What will happen now? They all plague my mind. Yet, death is
s common occurrence in the medical world and being able to somewhat comprehend
death is crucial to knowing how to cope.
Generally, I am a very easy-going person. I love people.
I love helping. I love loving. I get frustrated, I break down now and then, and
I often question where I am going. I love my family. I appreciate small things.
Yet, in the same breath, small things are often what frustrate me the most. I
try not to dwell on unimportant offenses, but I do. It’s something I feel I
will always be working on improving. I know the love of God and that His love
ought to be the love that I reflect. I know that I am not perfect, nor do I
aspire to be.
I have been dating Noah Irish for two years on October
14, 2012 and I could not be happier about that. I have three nephews who are
some of my best friends. I have a best friend in Oregon, and several in
Washington. I love to travel and I hope to do so throughout my nursing career. Having
older parents has shaped my outlook on life. They are part of the “Baby Boomer”
group and their values hold true to the generic outlook of people their age. They
taught me hard work, respect, fairness, honesty, and quality. There are so many
other facets to my life, some of which I am still learning to appreciate. But,
they all make up me. The above lists of who I am are just a piece of me. Not all.
I am still learning who I am and nursing is a big part of that.
