(Selah Pause)
The holidays look different from the nurses’ station.
Out there, it’s lights strung on houses, music playing in stores, and calendars slowly filling with plans. In here, it’s call lights, vital signs, medication times—and patients whose lives don’t pause just because the season has changed.
Somewhere between the decorations taped to the unit walls and the steady rhythm of the call lights, nursing keeps going.
This time of year always brings its own kind of rhythm. Tables in break rooms fill up with food. Those oversized cookie tins from Costco show up—courtesy of doctors, vendors, families, or hospital administration. There are department holiday parties squeezed in between shifts, white elephant gift exchanges where everyone pretends they didn’t bring the same mug as last year, and the familiar question:
“Are you working the holiday?”
For many of us, the answer is yes.
And still—we show up.
I’ve noticed something about working during the holidays. The pace doesn’t necessarily slow down—but we do, just a little. We linger a moment longer in conversations. We notice who doesn’t have visitors. We check in on each other with softer questions:
“You okay?”
“You doing days or nights this week?”
The holidays have a way of magnifying everything. Gratitude feels louder. Loss feels heavier. And nurses—whether we want to or not—often find ourselves holding space for both at the same time.
There are moments that don’t make it into charting. A patient asking what day it is, then quietly realizing it’s a holiday. A family FaceTiming from afar. A quiet hallway late in the shift, decorations glowing just enough to remind you the world outside is celebrating.
And somehow, in the middle of cookie tins, call lights, gift exchanges, and long shifts, we keep showing up.
Not with perfectly wrapped answers.
Not with everything figured out.
Just with presence.
There’s something sacred about that kind of work—standing in the in-between. Between celebration and sorrow. Between what’s festive and what’s fragile. Between decorations and call lights.
As Psalm 34:18 reminds us:
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Sometimes, being close looks like simply being there.
🧠 Selah Pause
As this season unfolds—whether you’re working the holiday or watching from the nurses’ station—what moments have stood out to you between the busyness?
Take a moment. Notice it. Write it down if you can.
Great