How to Feel Happier in 2 Minutes–Pencil Not Included

smgianotti@me.com  —  June 16, 2015

Six years ago, I clocked out of the burn unit for the last time and said goodbye to IVs, night shifts, and skin grafts. When people learn that I worked as a burn nurse they often blink and whisper, “That must’ve been so hard.” 

 

Working on a burn unit was hard, but not for the reason people think. Burn nurses walk onto the job each day expecting the worst. This protects us against emotional paralysis and allows us to focus on helping our patients—loading their IVs with Dilaudid, washing their burns, and slathering them with Silvadene. Burn care wasn’t always the hard part; often, night shifts were. 

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Photo courtesy of Alex Santos Silva via flickr.com (Used under CC BY-ND 2.0)

 

Unless you’ve stared 4 a.m. in the face, contacts blurring from dryness, you’ve never met the pit of night. Usually, by 2:30 a.m. my coworker and I had succumbed to silence. During the eternal inertia that stretched from then until dawn, I would agonize over whether another cup of coffee was worth the hole it would burn in my stomach.

 

One night, as I clawed my way toward morning, a patient’s call light turned on. I took a quick trip through Kubler-Ross’s stages of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression before accepting the inevitable Continue Reading…

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Can God Use Me?

smgianotti@me.com  —  June 9, 2015

I weaved in an out of traffic listening to my friend. Every Tuesday we hit a local coffee shop and try to make a dent in our writing aspirations. I changed lanes and focused back on what she was saying. During the last week she had run into two strangers that needed help—a homeless lady who she took to lunch and a young woman who was locked out of her car.

 

“I usually don’t interact with strangers so much,” my friend said, “but I really felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to help them.” 

 

I listened to my friend with mixed emotions. I knew I should be glad that God was working through her, but insecurity cluttered my heart. Her success felt like my failure.

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Photo courtesy of Luke Pamer via unsplash.com

 

Unlike my friend, I am not an extrovert. I dislike socially awkward situations and talking to strangers. Hearing how Jesus worked through my friend made me feel like a failure. After all, when was the last time I took a homeless woman to lunch? Continue Reading…

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Celibacy Is No Fun

smgianotti@me.com  —  June 2, 2015

My last neighbor owned a red Dodge Charger that gleamed as bright as his shaved head. He lived below me, and when his lady friends spent the night I wore earplugs. 

 

In my new apartment, I sleep in peace. Still, sex pops up everywhere—the magazine rack at the grocery store, an episode of Parks and Recreation, or the Victoria Secret catalog jammed in my mailbox. 

 

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Photo courtesy of Craig Sunter via flickr.com

 

American sexuality sings like one of Homer’s sirens. Movies and magazines seduce us into believing that happiness comes from a romp through the sheets, and the prospect of a sexless existence feels like an assaults on our humanity. 

 

For singles who choose celibacy until marriage, a healthy sex-drive can feel like a curse. Despite what married people say about enjoying singleness and the challenges of marriage, sometimes we just want to have sex Continue Reading…

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3 Ways to Avoid Being A People-Pleaser

smgianotti@me.com  —  May 26, 2015

“Can’t you just give me something for constipation?”

 

I rested my stethoscope on her wrinkled belly and heard nothing. I pushed down gently and she jerked in pain. 

 

“I think you need to go the hospital,” I said. “You can barely stand me touching your stomach and you haven’t passed gas all day.”  

 

“But, can’t you just give me medicine?”

 

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“Victory in Tough Seasons BG” by Lee Steele (modified by Shannon Gianotti)

 

I hate moments like this. Medicine—despite how it seems on TV—isn’t a perfect science. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if someone need surgery or if they’re just backed up. And, no one wants to spend six hours at the hospital to find out that they were, after all, just constipated.

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When I’m Hurting and It Seems Like God’s to Blame

smgianotti  —  May 19, 2015

“Stop, Emma!” My brother’s voice exploded as he slammed the table with his fist and catapulted to his feet. His two-year-old daughter’s decent from the chair halted, fear streaking her face and her bare feet dangling above the floor. Tears welled in her eyes. Was this the daddy who kissed her before bed and stroked her blonde hair on the pillow? 

 

Sometimes when disaster or disappointment erupts in our lives, we can feel like Emma. Hearing tires squeal and feeling the impact. Getting called to the boss’s office after a mistake. Mom’s shaky voice telling us that Dad is in the ambulance on his way to the hospital.

 

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Photo courtesy of Aaron Watt via Creationswap.com

 

In these moments, anxiety paralyzes us. God feels absent, and we question his love. 

 

When circumstances sting, it is possible that, like Emma, we don’t see everything that is at stake.

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(un)Glamorous Adventures in Adulthood

smgianotti@me.com  —  May 12, 2015

Certain moments make me feel the glow of adulthood—sitting at a mahogany desk while a mortgage broker rattles off numbers, tracing my finger across the black letters on a business card, “Shannon Gianotti, FNP-C”, and driving myself to DFW Airport last Saturday. 

 

The night before my flight home, I still didn’t have plans for getting to the airport. I’ld procrastinated on that part of the trip, because…well…nobody really wants to drive to the airport at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday. And, it’s been spring in Dallas, which—as my friend Dan likes to say—“is the two weeks of the year when Texas actually feels like Heaven.”

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“Travellers” by chiaralilly (licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0, modified by Shannon Gianotti)

 

So, between cranking out a twenty-page research paper for BE102 and writing a pitch for my latest article—I watered my cilantro plants, reacquainted myself with the pool, and neglected fishing around for a ride. By Friday night I was cornered into doing something I’ve never done before, something that (in my mind) only business people do—finding long-term parking near the airport.

 

Considering my travelog, airport parking shouldn’t be a big deal. I’ve eaten rice by hand in a bedouin tent near the Syrian border, hiked solo in the mountains of Korea, and spent a layover in Hong Kong sleeping under the seats in the terminal. 

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How to Rediscover the Lost Art of Honesty

smgianotti@me.com  —  May 5, 2015

I stood daydreaming as the bank teller processed my Canadian check.  

 

“PIN number, please,” she said. 

 

The four digits rattled off my lips, feeling strange. 

 

“Ma’am, please enter your PIN.”

 

Sometime, despite two bachelors and one masters degree, I’m an idiot. 


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Photo courtesy of WillPaul MacDonald via Creationswap.com

 

I sped out of the bank parking lot and toward the grocery store. About two miles down the road, I started to worry. I just broadcasted my PIN number in a rough part of Dallas. Maybe I should have asked her to change my PIN. 

 

You’re just paranoid.

 

I recalled the iPhone I lost at a movie theater a couple months ago. A little paranoia then would have saved me several hundred dollars. Before grabbing a shopping cart, I checked the balance in my account.

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How “Doing Devotions” Can Hurt Your Spiritual Life

smgianotti@me.com  —  April 28, 2015

Yesterday, I took a pre-work nap. That’s right. After rocketing out of bed at 5:30 a.m, I slunk back an hour later for what my great-grandfather Ted called a “horizontal.” Sliding fast into the land of sleep, I apologized to God.

 

“Sorry for skipping the rest of my devotions, God. I’m just so tired.”

 

Just before I plunged below the surface of consciousness, a thought splashed across my mind. “Why can’t the rest of the day be a devotion, too? 

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Photo courtesy of Kevin Carden via Creationswap.com

 

During my thirty minute commute on the I-20, past one of the few green patches in Dallas (thanks to the nearby sewer plant), the concept of “doing devotions” cycled through my grey matter. What if starting a day at the office (or school, or home) was like sitting down for another type of devotions—cracking open a different leather binding and unfolding a different story—but where we should expect to find God, all the same? 

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Do Christians Still Care About Beauty?

smgianotti@me.com  —  April 21, 2015

I sat in front of my laptop. The sun was still snoozing under the horizon and I was reading Exodus, one of those books from the front half of the Bible. Actually, I wasn’t reading. I was floating half-conscious over paragraphs about alters, oil, and priests and wondering why I had left the land of sleep for this. 

 

But, then my eyes snagged on something. “And you shall make holy garments for Aaron your brother, for glory and for beauty.” (Ex. 28:2, ESV). 

 

Wait, I thought, beauty matters to God? 

 

Photo 1414058862086 136de6c98e99Photo courtesy of Jan Erik Waider via unsplash.com


After all the years I spent in Sunday school, I felt pretty good about how well I could predict God. If he was selecting qualities he wanted in worship—his first draft pick would be glory. Subsequent rounds he’d choose things like love, faith, and obedience. But, it had never crossed my mind that God’s idea of worship wasn’t complete without beauty Continue Reading…

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How I Started Hating Mornings Less

smgianotti@me.com  —  April 14, 2015

I used to be a morning person, back when the New Kids on the Block were still new. Not anymore.

 

Now, when my phone buzzes at 5:30 am, I usually hit snooze (at least once) before one annoying neuron, buried deep within the gray matter, insists that I get up.

 

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Photo (before overlay) courtesy of Jake Givens via unsplash.com

 

So, I find the New York Times on my phone, let one eyelid slide shut, and work like Hercules to keep the other open. “G.O.P Senator, Bob Coker, is a Key Player in…”…so tired. 

 

I lay in bed with the lights off, head limp on the pillow, legs nestled between the sheets, and wait for my iPhone to usher me into the promised land of energetic wakefulness. 

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