Copycat.

I have some very, very great news.  I have been approved for AQUA therapy.  Yippee!

So. All my life I have secretly been jealous of the elderly people that got to do workout classes in the pool.  I've seen it on videos, and gawked at them in the pool as a kid...I mean, what better way is there to work out than in the water?  I have always felt like "working out" was such a lame way to spend time.  All you have to do is look at my fat roll to see that, so I'm not really stating anything other than the obvious, but I just would rather do something constructive with my time.  Go for a bike ride, roller blade, jump on a trampoline, play a game outside, dance around the kitchen, run around with people, rock climb...you get the idea, right?  I've never been one for going to a class to "do a workout", or watching a video to "do a workout".

My only exception is in the pool.  I will "do a workout" in the pool.  The problem is that only old people do their workouts in the pool.  I think you have to be a certain age even.  Just to join.  It's like secret old peoples club.  No offense old people.  I think you're cool.

But now.  I have a legitimate excuse!  I have found a way into the secret club!  It's broken legs!  I can't even contain my excitement.  As soon as I get the cast off on my left leg (less than two weeks), I'm hitting that water like seven year old doing a cannonball.  I'll wiggle myself from my wheelchair and just fall in, face forward. 


There actually is a good reason to do it too, I'm not just milking things for what they are worth.  Being able to take a lot of the pressure off of my feet, but still being able to bend them is going to help me walk sooner, apparently.  Who knew?  It actually works!


My trip to the physical therapist yesterday went very well.  I was a little nervous whenever I'd think about the appointment during the day, but once I got in there I was just fine.  My therapist took measurements of my foot, and had me bend it forward and backward as much as I could.  It was quite humorous because it didn't really look like it was moving a whole lot.  : )  It's pretty much stuck in one position.  But she touched my gnarly-looking feet, and showed me how to exercise them so that I can gain more flexibility.  It's wobbly, but not for long.  Dun dundun DUN!  They will be strong like bull soon.

On my way out of the appointment, a woman with a naturally twangy voice asked me, "I'm just dying to know, curiaaaasity is killllling the caaat.  What happened to your feet?"  It's amazing to me how many people will ask me this question in a day.  Right?  I'm sure you've been there.  And how many times I will answer them.  My mom thinks I put too much detail into my reply to people, and that I shouldn't be so descriptive of the "I forgot to clip in" part.  I agree, but they always ask how it happens, so I tell the truth.  I've talked much about how humbling it is, and it continues to be, but I find myself getting more annoyed at just having to tell the story over and over and over and over and over again.  In one day.  It's really tiring.

Here's the thing though.  It's not my story to keep trapped inside my lips.  I'm not the author of this story.  The redeemer of this story.  The editor of this story.  And maybe I haven't made that as clear as I should have throughout the last couple of months?  To myself or to the people that I have been dialoguing with.

I read tonight in Ephesians that we are to "Be imitators of God, as dearly loved children, and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God."  It's in verses 1 & 2, which are just after the verses my family & I are memorizing.  I love those lines so much. 

I think of watching little kids imitate their parents or siblings or someone they look up to.  Following their every move, trying so hard to be just like who they are watching.  That is what we are to be like.  Imitating God, copycatting him in every way.  It is then that we become a fragrant offering, a sweet smell to those around us.  And guess what?  It is sacrificial.

As ridiculous as I sound, it is a sacrifice to my comfort every time I do tell this story.  I was convicted after reading this verse; I did not respond to the lady in the waiting room in love.  I was really annoyed at having to tell the whole story all over again.  I tried not to be snarky, but there wasn't joy in my response.  It was the first time that I really caught myself feeling that way.  The telling of this story was not a sweet-smelling fragrance, but just a happen-stance that was done and over with as I was wheeled out of the office.

And as much as I beat myself up over not being more of a light to that lady's life, I am thankful that God revealed that to me at my appointment; I need to imitate him everywhere I travel to, and in the telling of all of the good he has done in my life.  He deserves to be talked about; he is a wonderful, wonderful God.

Commitment.

It's a scary word, no?  Commitment.  What do you think of?  Family?  Marriage?  Dating?  Meetings?  Weekend plans that you desperately want out of?   

I strongly dislike the word, and the stigma attached.  I mean, I don't even like to make weekend plans because I'm afraid of being tied down.  Seriously!  I think it's an illness that plagues too many people.  I want to draw some attention to Matthew 11:27-30:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Some people had to go back to work this week, and I'm using this verse as an encouragement to you.  Some people had to work all last weekend, so may you be encouraged to.  Still others have the entire week off, but they carry such heavy loads in their hearts & minds - may this verse also be an encouragement to you.

How easily we are burdened by the things of this world.  I am so thankful for Jesus.  I am so thankful that he is such a willing and patient Teacher.  I am incredibly thankful that he longs to be committed to us.  I mean, think about it.  Not only are we invited to lay at his feet, which is where we find rest, but we are allowed to learn from him.  And to think!  His yoke is easy!  And his burden is light!  He is ever-committed, and he never lets us down!  A yoke is something that we are tied to him with, similar to the yoke of farm animals.  It is a great commitment also on our part, and worth it.  But what of his burden? 

What do you think Jesus' burden entails?  What, truly, was his burden?  And how is it light?  You see, I was always quite confused by this.  If Jesus came to take away the sins of all who enter into a relationship with him, then how is his burden light?  What I failed to realize is that I am not called to take away the sins of myself, or of those around me.  I am called to be yoked to him, in step with him, side by side with where he is leading.  This yoke & burden are often hard work, but they are a joy because he is there.

For some readers of this blog, my talk of Jesus may be unsettling.  Some of you are still unsure of whether Jesus was a liar, a lunatic, or Lord.  Still others know what they think - he is one of the three for each of you.  But I can't help but talk about him, and I can't apologize for the endless words spoken about him, the never-ending conversation about this man.  I find myself yoked to him, committed to him, and though each step is sometimes muddy or thorny or filled with rocks in the field, I can't describe the joy that I feel because I'm next to him.  The burden truly becomes light.  Even when I'm staring down the barrel of the beginning of a new chapter.  

I start physical therapy tomorrow.  It will just be an assessment/evaluation, but it is the start nonetheless.  I have not hidden how I feel about physical therapy: I'm not looking forward to it.  I know that it will have me walking again, but the steps that it will take to get there will be grueling.  And you would agree if you could see the size of my ridiculous calves.  : )

But.  My burden is light, and I'm entering in with an open mind.  I'm ready to learn from Jesus.  I'm ready for what he is going to teach me, what he has for me in the day.  I'm trying not to focus on lengths of time, but on the day.  To learn means that I need to get better at listening.

My family and I have committed to memorizing scripture together in the next weeks, and I'm very excited.  I feel like I have so spiritual disciplines to work on, and memorizing scripture is a huge weakness for me.  Meditating on Scripture is talked about in the Bible many times; I am not taking this commitment lightly.  With this commitment, and my my need to practice better listening, I'm not sure how much talking/writing I will be doing in the next weeks.  Maybe not as much as I have been in the last couple of months, but maybe I will.  Only the Lord knows.  I have followed his leading within this blog thus far, and I will continue to do so.  Please pray for me, not just for the continued healing of my legs (of which he deserves all the credit, and infinitely more praise), but also that I may have ears that are in tune with his voice.  I so long for him to speak to me through Scripture, and I am looking forward to all that he is going to teach me.  Please also pray for my family that we will follow-through with our commitment, and that we can listen to the Lord more clearly.  

Fly.

Do you know the saying, "time flies when you're having fun"?

It is true. 

It seems like yesterday we were picking my sister up from the airport, and tomorrow she is leaving with my aunt to go back to Dallas.  Not quite sure how I feel about this, but I can't believe how fast time hast gone.  It's been so awesome to relax, take a break from everything, and spend time with my family.  I am so richly blessed.

A verse that I was reading tonight is 1 Chronicles 29:11:

"All that is in heaven and earth is Yours; Yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and You are exalted as head over all." 

I read that in my "Our Daily Bread" booklet sent by a dear, dear lady at my church in Milwaukee.  Aaaand...I don't think anyone my age is reading it, but when we all turn 60, we'll start.  Ha ha.  It was so sweet of this lady to think of me, and she has been a tremendous blessing on my journey.  I've really enjoyed what I used to call "the old people packet".  (This name comes because when I was very young, we would visit my great-grandma Miller, and she would always have them out.  I loved to thumb through them because they were like baby books, but they were always really confusing.  She would explain to me what she was learning from them though, and I always listened because she was very wise.  She had white hair & she smelled so good, and she made me feel like a million bucks.)

All that we have belongs to God: our time, our family members, our spiritual gifts, our purpose, our possessions, the very breath that we breathe.  It is all his.  And he is so graciously generous, isn't he?  He gives with grace.  There is no awkwardness.  I cannot believe all that he has lavished on me; I can't believe he gives such amazing gifts.  Healing.  Passion.  Words.  Change.  Love.  All that I have is his, and I'm so thankful that he gives generously.

I pray that if my family were taken away from me, or house were taken away, and I didn't know where I was going to turn for food or clothes, or if something happened to me that was worse than breaking both legs that I would still have the same thought-process.  That I would still be completely reliant on him.

I am incredibly thankful for the time that God has gifted me with.  Is really does fly, but I'm so thankful that he has given me what he has.  It is such an amazing gift.

Simplicity.

This morning my little sister said, "You know it's funny, I love how Jesus gives us gifts when it's his birthday."  That is the truth.  This morning was a huge blessing for me, not just because of my amazing family or what I received, but because I am thankful that I'm alive, breathing, and in love with Jesus.  In my warm, good-smelling house this morning, I can't stop thinking about people who I've heard of or know in my life who might feel a little differently than I - people without homes, family members, or money for presents.  My thanks to the original author who started this description of Jesus' life:

  Jesus was God,
yet he allowed his birth to happen in a stable.

                         He had no servants,                          

                        yet they called Him Master.                     
                                                                           
                               He had no degree,                           
                       yet they called Him Teacher.                       
                                                                           
                             He had no medicines,                             
    yet they called Him Healer.

     He chose not to use an army
                           and yet they feared Him.                       
                                                                           
                        He fought no military battles,                     
        yet He conquered the world.     

                 
                           He committed no crime,                       
                          yet they crucified Him.                       
                                                                           
                          He was buried in a tomb,                         
        yet He lives today.       

It's amazing how complicated things can become sometimes, but Jesus' birth was so simple.  His lifestyle was so simple.  This morning I find myself drawn in that simplicity.  As cliche as it sounds, He truly is the best gift that we will ever, ever receive in this world.  The only gift that gives eternal joy.  No matter what feelings today hold for you, may you be able to find yourself drawn into the embrace of this gift.

Merry Christmas, friends.  

   

Grinchy.

The Grinch was on tonight, and I've decided that I have Grinch-like tendencies.  This morning my friend left to head back to Racine, my three younger sisters went on an outing with my aunt & eventually my dad headed to word.  It was just me and the momma, which I always enjoy.  I mean, come on!  It's Christmas Eve Eve!  Whoo hoo!!  But, instead, I gave in to my mopey side.  I was left at home, and I had to schedule my physical therapy appointment.  "Poor me", right?  No.  It's not that bad, but it put me in a grumpy mood nonetheless.  To make matters worse, I keep forgetting to take my nerve medication, and it really affects how I feel.  More than I think, I think.  I'm setting three alarms tomorrow.

Anyway.  Back to talking about movies (which is becoming sort of a trend. I'm so torn about watching so many movies, I love them, but they are a waste of time.  There are so many other things that I could be doing, even when I'm doing other things while I watch them.  But, as usual, I'm watching a movie this evening, and finding some connection to how I live my life.)  The Grinch is a movie that never really sounds good to me, but it's a tradition.  Once it's on, I'm hooin' and hawin' with the best of them, but there's just something that turns me off when I contemplate watching this movie! 

Tonight, it struck me because I've never really paid that much attention to the part where his heart starts growing.  Jim Carrey is so ridiculous.  I'm always laughing so hard at the part where he says, "I'm leaking" (because he's crying) that I miss where he starts writhing in pain, and flopping around in the snow, making the most obscene faces.  I realized tonight that THAT is me!

Here's how: Today, while I was scheduling my first physical therapy appointment, I became quite overwhelmed by the fact that I am going to have to regularly be around a lot of people again..  To be quite honest, I am really not looking forward to it.  Frankly, I have enjoyed the solitude and rest that God has blessed me with, and I sort of feel like I have forgotten how to relate to people.  The receptionist that I talked to wasn't the nicest chocolate-covered cherry in the box, but she wasn't hateful.  People have jobs to do, I get that, but I was just overwhelmed.

"Okay.  So, I need for you to give me a short description of how you got your injury."
(here's where I start to get annoyed...why do they need to know how it happened, and not what happened?)

"Well, I was rock climbing, I wasn't clipped in, and I fell 20 feet."

"OH MY GOSH!  Well, that sure is a story!  At least you didn't land on your head!"
giggles..."Why weren't you clipped in?  Was it your fault?"

"Yes.  I didn't clip myself in."

"Ooooooh, okay."
"What gym was it at?"  blah blah blah
"Can you give me the name?"  blah blah blah
"Do you have the address?"  Lady, are you serious?  No!

WHY DOES IT MATTER!?!?  You, dear lady, are not my insurance person!  You are my physical therapist scheduler!!!!!!!!!  YOU DO NOT NEED THE WHOLE STORY!

Man.  I was so annoyed.  I don't know why.  This lady was just doing her job - she was nice enough, and just curious.  I'm used to telling my story over and over again, and I'm thankful to be able to tell it.  Really, I am.  It's just that at that moment, I didn't want to have to tell it.  I really don't think any of the information I gave her is going to help my PT know how to treat my legs, but I went with it.  I didn't really let on that I was annoyed, but inside I just wanted to cry.

This time of the year can bring a lot of negative emotions, right?  It's such a joyful time - the birth of the Messiah!  But, it seems to come with so much baggage.  Frustration with family members, what may seem like excessive traveling, in the snow, unresolved conflict, discontentment with work looming overhead, lack of meaning or direction during a phase of life, answering questions to people you don't know, bitterness, fear, anxiety, insecurity...all of these things tempt us, don't they?

It's here that my Grinch scene starts to take place.  I hit the ground, whining and writhing.  "Grrrr.  Gaaaahh,  uuuugggghhhh."  I realized how selfish I was being, and it's at that point that my heart starts to enlarge.

When God takes our hearts and grows them, molds them, shapes them, and stretches them, it is sometimes painful.  Sometimes humiliating.  Sometimes overwhelming.  But, his hands are the only place where our hearts belong.  He molds us to be like Jesus.  And, man, I want to be like Jesus; in the form of a baby he was willing, humble, gentle & warm, even in the midst of a cold, dark, messy night.

Translation.

I have a physical therapist spending the night tonight.  No, it's not someone I picked up at the office today, it's my dear, dear friend Emily!  We had such a blast this evening.  She brought over gingerbread houses all the way from Racine, WI.  I covered mine in pink frosting.  Like, literally, covered.  It looked like a three-year-old created a house, and their favorite color was pink.  Except my favorite color is most definitely not pink, and I'm pretty sure HJ could have done a better job.  I mostly just got carried away, but I blamed it on the fact that Santa got run over by his reindeer.

: )

I actually called my physical-therapist-to-be today about scheduling an appointment, and apparently, the receptionist needs more than a "referral".  She needs "orders".  Who knew?  I need a medical translator!  All of the information is pretty much the same, but the sheet has a different title.  I just hope that I can schedule an appointment soon!  As much as I've enjoyed the rest & time that God has so richly blessed me with in the last two months, I'm excited to start using my feet again.  And I'm excited to swim in their indoor POOL! 

I'm really going to miss playing with my Rosetta Stone.  I have a feeling that once PT starts, I probably won't be using my time the same way I have been.  I've been using R.S. for about three weeks now, and didn't realize I even had access to it!  Once I did, my student loan debt seemed a little less overwhelming.  Carroll offers Rosetta Stone to its alumni!  Pretty sweet deal, right?  Somehow I feel like it lessens the blow of a $30,000 tuition bill.  That's one expensive piece of software, eh?

Anyway, I've spent some time freshening up my Espanol skills.  So far, not so good, but that's okay!  Rosetta does not like my accent.  I'm working on it.  I tallied up the years, and it's been almost SIX since I've taken a Spanish class.  Cah-razy!  I really wish that I had listened to my inner-wiser self when I was in high school..."Take Spanish all four years, not twooooo, not twoooooooooo"  I didn't listen.  Now I'm reaping what I've sown.  I can't remember a lick of what I learned, with the exception of, "¿Donde esta el bano?", which means, "Where's the bathroom?"  And "platanos" because bananas are my favorite fruit.

I know several songs in Spanish, and I treasure them greatly.  InterVarsity played a major role in shaping my understanding of what it means to worship God, and what it means to do so in other languages & styles than I might be used to.  Something I have also been learning over the last several years is the freedom that we have in the church to worship God outside of the barriers that the world places us in.  One of those barriers happens to be language.  And when I say barrier, I do not imply that people who speak different languages cannot relate to one another, or connect to one another.  I simply mean that language can sometimes keep us from complete unity.  From understanding.

One of my favorite Christmas songs has been stuck in my head for quite some time.  My dad came down the stairs singing it this morning, and I couldn't help but giggle.  It's stuck in his too, apparently.  Anyway, I got to thinking about how wonderful it would be to sing my favorite song in Spanish!  Here's how it goes:

Santa la noche hermosas las estrellas
La noche cuando nació el Señor
El mundo envuelto estuvo en sus querellas.
Hasta que Dios nos envió al Salvador

Una esperanza todo el mundo siente
La luz de un nuevo día al fin brilló
Hoy adorad a Cristo reverente,

¡Oh, noche divina!¡Nació el Salvador!
Divina noche de Cristo el Señor
Hoy adorad a Cristo reverente,
¡Oh, noche divina!¡Nació el Salvador!
Divina noche de Cristo el Señor

I may have to migrate to a Spanish-speaking church for a while, just so that I can absorb their music.  I would love to go to a Christmas Eve service at midnight this Friday, and sing Santa La Noche, "Oh Holy Night".  I can't wait to hear what language is like in heaven.  And I can't wait until every barrier is broken down between human beings.  It is my belief that the breaking down of those barriers starts now, within our world, because God's garden has been planted!  Another way of saying this is that his kingdom is here, right now!  One way that we can tangibly show that is to sing songs that may not be in our first language.  I love it.

I pray that barriers would continue to crumble within our lives & within the body of Jesus, even in this holiday, and that we can continue to be stretched and shaped into the likeness of Him whose birth we celebrate.

Glorify.

There once were three little girls named Julie, Shelby, & Alaina.  They came over to visit girls named Jen & Catie.  They made chocolate-covered pretzels, watched I'll Be Home For Christmas featuring J.T.T., and rapped their testimonies.  (No, not wrapped, but really "rapped")   If you don't know how to rap, I'll teach you. 

The End.
 
Like my story?  It's a true story.  One that unfolded today.  Today is Tuesday, December 21nd.  Try saying 21nd.  Can you believe that?  Three days until Christmas!  I just can't wait until Christmas day.  Luke 2:8-20 captures my excitement:

“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
  “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
   and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told"

Like that story?  That's not a story that I wrote.  Luke wrote it.  Well, actually God wrote it, but Luke was the transcriber.  I'm so thankful for my dear friend Luke.  He was such a descriptive writer, and gives such an amazing account of the story of Jesus.  I wish I could remember details like he did.  Can't wait to meet that guy.  I always imagine him as Leonardo DaVinci  with a long white beard and frail hands.  But Luke wasn't of European descent....so....

Anyway.  I've just been falling in love with the gospel of Luke in the last few weeks.  I've never really been drawn into the Christmas story quite like I have this year.  The lines that stand out to me in this chunk of verses are these:

...and the glory of the Lord shone around them...
I have never though about how God's glory can shine around you.  I picture it in my head as a golden, warm blanket.  Or maybe like Beauty & the Beast's Beast transformation.  I also love it that the shepherds were terrified.  Not in the fact that they were scared, but that the angel had just said the same thing to Mary a few verses beforehand.  Angels must be pretty intense.  None of this flowery crown-on-my-head with a cute-baby-butt thing.

...Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel...
A great company of the heavenly host was a lot of host.  I have also never really envisioned this great company as more than a handful of angels with lutes and togas.  Seriously!  Aren't I ridiculous?!  The pastor of my church that I'm currently attending pointed this out last Sunday, and it was something that I had just recently picked up on: there were A LOT of angels!  And, I'm pretty sure that angels play instruments too.  At least they play the horn.  I know that for sure.  But I'm pretty sure they play other things too.  Cool things.  Like the Dulcimer.  : )   My point?  It was loud.  And awesome.  And good reason to pee your pants.

...When they had seen him, they spread the word...
What had they been told?  A Savior had been born!  The Messiah, the Lord!  I mean, these shepherds were pumped!  They couldn't shut up.  How do you think people responded to them?  Were they seen as loons?  Did people think they were telling the truth?  Did more people show up at the stable as a result? 

...all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them...
They actually believed the shepherds.  Those crazy people.  Do you think any of the children that heard those shepherds saw Jesus later, as an adult?  Do you think that they remembered those shepherds?  Those humble, crazy, possibly smelly people who were invited into the celebration of Jesus' birth, and unashamedly proclaimed their excitement? 

...The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told...Those shepherds were pumped.  Do you think Mary let them hold her firstborn son?  All I know is that I know their feeling: glorifying and praising God is all I can think of doing when I think of all that I have heard and seen.  They were probably singing so many wonderful songs of celebration, and having a blast rounding up all of the stupid sheep that had wandered off while they were in Bethlehem.  I mean, unless they took the sheep with them to the town.

What did they do with all of those sheep?

Aslan.

I went to see Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader today in the movie theatre.  I've talked an awful lot about movies lately, but I haven't been to the movie theater in a really long time.  I actually have a budget for the theater because I love it so much - I never get sick of seeing movies on the gigantic screen, and I'm a sucker for Cherry Coke & popcorn.  Especially when that movie is in the Woodstock Square, and we can walk around afterward (even if we are a bit of a spectacle...)

Anyway, I was skeptical about the movie, even though I was very excited to be there.  I absolutely love C.S. Lewis, and I really enjoy his writing.  I have learned so much from his illustrations & imagery; it draws me closer to the character of God.  His deep thinking helps me to think deeply, and not be afraid to think deeply.  So when I heard that they were continuing on with the Chronicles of Narnia series, I was kind of sad.  The images that I have in my imagination are ones that I would like to hold onto.  I didn't want the movie to ruin them.  But, to my surprise, it didn't!

What I loved most about the movie was that, in my opinion, the writers/directors really wove connections to Jesus into it.  The best line, to me, was at the very end of the movie, when the characters named Prince Caspian, Edmund, Eustice, Luci, & Reepicheep have reached the end of their world, and the beginning of Aslan's.  All of them have to say goodbye to Aslan, the lion that they have come to love very deeply.  Luci (I think) says to him:

We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?” 
 “But you shall meet me, dear one,” said Aslan.
“Are are you there too, Sir?” said Edmund. 
“I am,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

I just loved it.  It made me cry.  The movie and the book.  I long for heaven with such fervency, that when I watched a really weird looking mouse row his way into a giant wave, I became really excited.  At the same time I felt really homesick.  I can't wait to see what heaven looks like, and I can't wait to stand before the throne of God.  I can't wait to run and not get tired, or fear falling down.  I can't wait to swim under water and not have to surface for a breath.  I can't wait to touch the soft grasses that will feel like silk, or eat the fruits of the trees there.  It sounds crazy, doesn't it?  Imagining a place that seems like fairytale? 

When talking about these things in connection with the Chronicles, one must note that these books are just stories.  Aslan does help us to see Jesus, but it is not non-fiction.  (Like my double negative?)  The Bible is not just a story.  I truly believe that it speaks truth.  It is, in fact, the only book of its kind to claim to be the only truth, and one that gives very clear answers to the many questions that we have about our lives.  It describes heaven, and says that this earth is not our home.  Paul writes about this in 2 Chronicles 5:2-5:

"Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come."

These verses are kind of intense, but they really connect to how I have been feeling.  Not just since I broke my legs, but since I have started to realize what is found in Jesus.  (Who knows when that was...)  I do long to be clothed with a heavenly dwelling, even though my understanding of that is very acute. 

I do feel like all things "mortal" will be swallowed up by life itself - I find myself too easily persuaded by position within a job; status and pride, I have a great fear of intimacy with other people, distractions that come from being overly busy, but the busy-ness is self-inflicted...you get the picture, right?  I mean, even after participating in a church gathering centered around the true meaning of Christmas, and focusing my thoughts and life around Jesus, I find myself (two days later) already distracted by so many other things as I enter into celebrating his birthday.  All of that will be swallowed up because of Jesus' life.

I look forward to the day when I will remember.  The things I've committed to.  Where I've come from.  Where I'm going.  Who I serve.  Who I love.  Who I am.  God has fashioned me for his purpose, and I am increasingly thankful for it.  It helps me to stay focused on what is given to me in this day; it helps me to be present within this moment.  Faithfully.  And, for a nomad with definite attention issues, this is a very good thing.

Willingness.

One of my absolute favorite actors in the world is Djimon Hounsou.  Whoa man.  It's not just his muscular arms, either.  Or his amazing white teeth.  I just really like the integrity that he has as an actor, and I really appreciate so many of his roles.  His muscular arms & amazing white teeth are just a bonus for my eyeballs.  My favorite role that he plays in is the character Abou Fatma in The Four Feathers.  If you haven't seen this movie, I'll loan it to you.  It is so good!  I cry every time.  Oh.  So good. 

My favorite part is his character's willingness to do what God tells him to do.  In the movie, Abou says, "God put you in my path" when asked why he's helping someone. That was his reply - "God put you in my path."  The thing about Abou (and, yes, I realize he is a fictional character), is that he acts on the placement of this person within his path.  He doesn't just look over and see someone lying in the sand and feel sorry for him.  He doesn't make excuses.  He doesn't just see the man in his path, think, "Oh, I should help him.  God put him there", and then just walk away;  he sees him, helps him, and befriends him.  He reminds me a lot of a man in the Bible.

You may know him as the Good Samaritan.  I think that the name "Good Samaritan" has, unfortunately, lost a lot of its meaning in our culture today.  Fortunately, we are commanded to do what Jesus tells us to do, (go and do likewise), and it's not about what's true of our culture.  Abou really depicts the Good Samaritan for me.  If you don't know the full story of the Good Samaritan, (or you've never read it in the Bible) go here, and read it for yourself: 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2010:%2030-37&version=NIV

Action goes hand in hand with willingness.

I placed my foot on the ground for the first time since I broke my legs.  I took my foot out of my boot, and set it on the ground at a 90 degree angle.  It was so weird!  The weirdest part is that now I'm itching to get up and walk.  It was the first time that my foot touched the ground in nearly two months, and now I'm ready to walk.  I think this pretty much epitomizes me.  I get a taste of something, and I'm ready and willing to jump in and just start doing it.  "Sign me up!  Put me on the list!"  Little do I realize that I'm not equipped or well-muscled enough to stay standing.  "Wait. What am I supposed to do again?  Oh yeah, I did say I would do that."

If I were to stand on my foot, I would probably make if for, like, 10 seconds.  Then all of my weakling muscles would give out, and I would fall over.  I'm SO willing though!  As much as I think I could pull an Uma Thurman, Kill Bill kind of move (moving after having been in a coma for several weeks...right?  I can't even remember that stupid movie, except that she starts wiggling her toes and moving around, and it was so unrealistic.  Ugh.)  I can't.  I'm not in Kill Bill.  And I would never kill him either, for the record.

It reminds me of the song "Light the Fire", and the line that says, "My Spirit is willing, but my flesh is so weak."  Except now it has physical meaning, and not just spiritual.  Ha ha!  As much as I'd like to think that I can put my foot and the floor, and just hop up as though nothing had happened, I can't.  I have to slowly build back up to it. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!  Do you know how much that just drives me NUTS?!?!?  This is yet another way that God is going to use this experience to grow and mature me: slow, methodical, intentional building.  Did I mention slow?  And methodical?  And slow?  Something that I could do "normally" every day, for pretty much my entire memorable life: put my feet beside my bed, and stand up.  Yup.  Been doin' it since I was TWO.  I kind of just realized that.  And I kind of just realized that I haven't been doing that for almost two months.

I kind of just realized that my feet were going to be back on the ground.  Like, the thought never occurred to me, that in order to walk again, I'll have to be able to stand.  Oh man.  I'm pretty wacko.
Anyway, it was just a funny thing that happened to me this weekend.  My toes turned purple & I chickened out.  I haven't done it since.  : ) 

Willingness must always be accompanied with preparation for, and include an eventual action.  Sometimes immediate.  Sometimes it changes direction.  Sometimes willingness is what is asked, and action isn't.  Sometimes it is.  Be ready. When you say to someone, "Do you want me to do this for you?"  Be ready.  When you think, "I'll never do that..."  Just wait.  Be ready.  When you sing songs about following Jesus no matter what, be ready.

When I think of a willing spirit, and an action response, I think of Mary, Jesus' momma.  I've been reading a lot about her lately, as Jesus' (implemented) birthday is coming up in less that a week.  I like Mary.  I used to think that she was just always ready to have an angel come to her & have her respond in perfection & have her beautiful little self plopped up on a donkey ready to travel the world.  Even if she was, like, 15.  I couldn't really relate to Mary.  Until recently.  I've taken the first part of Luke & broken it down into a play-like conversation:

Mary (just chillin' out, maybe praying, listening to some "Top Ten Songs of the final B.C.'s)

Enter Angel.

Angel: Greetings, you who are highly favored!  The Lord is with you.

Mary (makes this face): AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
(possibly thinking, "What kind of greeting could this possibly be?" or "DON'T KILL ME!"

Angel: Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.

Mary: How will this be, since I am a virgin?

Angel: The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.  Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.

Mary: I am the Lord’s servant, may your word to me be fulfilled.


Angel vanishes into thin air.  Literally.

End Scene 1

Pretty crazy story.  It's even crazier that it actually happened.  The very last line is the one that gets me: "I am the Lord's servant."  She answers beautifully.  Willing, yet ready to go.  Ready to follow through.  I mean, I might say those words, but later I'd be FREAKING OUT when follow-through time came!  I might tell God that I'd have to think about it.  I might be so embarrassed that all of the women in town were talking about me that I would tell God nevermind, and he would have to rewind time to pick someone else.  Or, I'd be complaining to him that I'd have to go through the pain of labor without even getting to have sex.  UGH!

The simplicity of Mary's answer is what makes it so beautiful to me: "I'm the Lord's servant, may it be as you say!"  She trusts God so much that she is willing to take this HUGE step of faith.  Now, I'm not saying that it's okay to come before God's throne, and pepper him with questions every time; He deserves reverence.  He is God, we are not.  But, part of me just can't help but think, "Isn't there anything else you'd wanna ask an ANGEL!?"  I mean, he was right there!  If ever an opportunity laid itself in your lap, that was it, Mary! 

She kept it simple.  I like to complicate. 

I'm a human bean.  That's my job, apparently.  Her willingness & humility are an example to me.  And the way that she treasured the conversation with the angel, and the way she treasured her relationship with God are as well.  She listened, she responded, and she went.  She was a woman of action; eventually she did give birth to the Messiah.  And she also took every little step to get there.

Sweaty.

White elephant parties are fun.  I had the pleasure of spending time this evening with all of the young adults at SpringBrook Church tonight, and I had a fabulous time.  It's funny because when I get nervous I either: 1) Can't stop talking, 2) Laugh and talk really loud, or 3) Completely shut down and pretend to be shy so I don't have to talk to anyone.  I can't help it.  One and two are genetic - my father is the exact same way.  One and two also come even when I'm not nervous.  One and two prevailed this evening.

We played games, ate yummy food , and just hung out.  It was so refreshing. It's always good to get out of the house, (even thought I don't always want to), and spend time laughing with people.  I got a pretty bowl, a music box, matches, and I got a motorcycle helmet, which I actually needed!  Seriously!  The one that I use for my dad's bike is too small, so I'm excited to try it out.  Pretty sure I can get on a motorcycle with a cast - if it comes to that.  We won't ride until May.

Anyway, tonight I may have stuck my foot in my mouth a couple of times, but I had fun.  I started talking about diaphoresis, but with complete strangers.  My friend, Mama Berndt (that's what I call her anyway), taught me about this condition early on in my college years.  Diaphoresis means "excessive sweating".  While I was excessively sweating this evening, I started talking about my excessive sweat.  Nobody really thought it was funny.  I'm pretty sure they thought it was gross.  Whoops.  I guess sweating isn't one of those safe bodily functions to talk about.  I think diaphoresis is funny, and I really do sweat a lot, so...don't really know what to say.  My wheelchair makes me sweat a lot, okay?!

I'm growing more accustomed to my boot on my right foot.  It's not so bad.  It's sweaty too.  I think I was just really really tired last night, which led me to feel more panicky.  I still don't like having my foot out in the open for anyone to accidentally land on, but I'm feeling much better.

My absolute favorite part of the evening was getting to the church early (my sisters had a band concert, and I was dropped off on the way...one twin wasn't too comfortable with me going, otherwise I would have...)  I wheeled into the lobby of our church, and sat amongst the most beautiful Christmas trees.  I put some music on, and just sat and journaled for an hour or so with the trees lighting my pages.  It was wonderful.  It felt like taking a deep breath after you forget to breathe for a little while.  Or a sigh.  I love sighing. 

One of the many, many things I was able to process was the fact that I feel sometimes like I'm sleeping my way through life.  I look back on things, and I'm like, "Did I really do that?  Was I really there?  Why can't I remember it more clearly?"  One of the songs I listened to was such an encouragement.  Some of the lines go like this:

"Illuminate my cloudy view, until Christ consumes my frame.
Awake, awake oh sleeper!

Awaken me, open my eyes.
I want to see all you have for my life.

Awaken me, let your sunrise!
Darkness will flee in your marvelous light!"

I just love it.  I love it when I'm listening to songs, and the theme connects with one I'm wrestling with in my life.  The connection is divine.  The spark lights a fire in my heart.  Sitting in silence is valuable, but I know God created me to sing his songs.  And to hear his songs.  And his voice. 

I just love the lines in that song.  If I could change one, it would be: I want to dance in your marvelous light.  One of the things I'm looking forward to, when I can walk again, is dancing.  It's like Christ consuming my frame.  I'm not very good, but I just love dancing, and I think when I can be on my feet and move around more, I am going to take ballet lessons.  Can't wait to get sweaty there either.  I promise I'll shave my legs & pitties first.  And I won't talk about poop.  Hopefully.

The Middle.

Oh man.  I'm zapped. I'm just going to write down every thing I'm thinking, without a lot of filtering, so it might get long.  All I know is that today was a huge day, and I have to write it all down before I forget.

Today was a turning point for me.  I did have both of my casts removed today, with only one replaced, and it went very well.  God is so incredibly good to me.  When we got to the hospital, we found out that my doctor called in sick, so I was to be attended by his residents.  That's cool with me because three of them were there during the surgery.  The casts were removed for x-rays, and I headed in to get rayed.  I told them that they were going to need the longer plates to set my legs on, but they didn't believe me.  Then they cheerfully told me (once they realized that the smaller ones wouldn't work with the long plates in my leg) that, next time, I should tell them that they would need the longer plates.  Know what I learned in that moment?  Submission.  I just said, "Okay!" as kindly as I could.  One of the technicians recognized me from the night that I had come into the emergency room, and we got to chatting.  I wish that I had said something more substantial to her because God has truly done a great work in my life.  I couldn't say anything more than just the fact that I am so blessed.

Today.  I looked at my legs.  For the first time since I fell, I looked at my legs.  Even after I had fallen, I refused to look down at them because I just didn't want to know what they looked like.  Pictures have been taken, documentation will one day be posted to this blog, but I refused to see them until today.  It was the first turning point for me.

Then I had my legs scrubbed by the casting man that was in Las Vegas when I was there last.  It felt so good.  Unfortunately, I'm what you might call a "picker" - I pick at anything that will come off or out of my body.  Scabs, zits, other gross body things...it's gross, I know, but I can't help it.  So I had to work hard not to pick at the dry skin flaking off of my legs.  I made friends with the lady that had done my black casts, and was so relieved when she came into the room.  Cast man wasn't friendly, and I'm overly sensitive.  His job is hard, I know.  And he was probably really stressed out.  But I like cast lady so much better.  She let me have extra wash rags to rub my legs with after cast man missed a few spots.  I nearly rubbed them raw.  One scab was green, and cast lady showed me that I could just pick it off.  Sweet, huh?

The conversation in the casting room was so sad to me, it broke my heart.  An older man in a car accident, a young woman with undeveloped legs who had just had surgery, a man who had fallen on the ice...I didn't know how to convey hope to them.  It's so hard because I want to just roll up to each of them and tell them I'm praying for them, and ask them questions, and give them hugs, and offer hope.  I didn't know how.  There was an awkward silence that I couldn't seem to fill, and I think it's because I may have been trying to fill it on my own.  I prayed yesterday that my conversations would make people thirsty for Jesus, but I don't think anyone wanted to talk.  So I tried to listen without eavesdropping, and I will continue to pray for each of those people.

After the intern my age moved my feet around (a lot), I found out that my doctor was, in fact, coming in even though he was sick.  I was relieved because I had never met the intern that was moving my feet around, and it was weird.  But anyway, my sick doctor came in, and I was glad to see him.  He said that x-rays looked WONDERFUL!  Isn't that amazing?  The fractures are healing beautifully, and he seemed so excited, despite being sick.  I am so thankful, and I couldn't stop smiling.  So, I got a boot for my right leg, and a candy cane cast on my left.  I have it for another month, and then I'll get that one off as well.  Physical therapy starts on the right leg, but mostly for movement & flexibility: standing and walking have to wait a little longer.

After that, I hit another turning point: my first pee in a public bathroom as a person in a wheelchair.  It was crazy, and no matter what people may say, they are not truly wheelchair accessible.  It was incredibly eye-opening.  I'm just thankful for my mom and dad, yet again.  I needed a lot of help.

Hopped in the car, grabbed some lunch, stopped by a few houses to say hello (not as many as I wish I could have, but super-fun), armed ourselves with Starbucks, and we were off. 

Now I'm home.

I took my boot off tonight and saw that my foot looked really swollen.  It hit me.  Hard.  I started to freak out a little.  Then it snowballed.  I should have just taken a Percoset to settle down, but I am petrified that my stitches are going to rip open while I'm thrashing around in my sleep, as I so often do, and I want to be able to tell if that happens.  I can't sleep with my boot on because it cuts into my calve muscle, and cuts off circulation.  So, I put the inner sleeve on after much panicking and whining.  My poor mom.  My dad wasn't home at the time, and I was just freaking out in my chair.  I couldn't get comfortable.  So, we took the sleeve out, iced it, and popped in a movie (too early for bed...)

It worked for, like 30 minutes, and then I started freaking out again.  "The sleeve isn't fitting right.  Why is it so swollen?  What should I do?  Why are my incisions tingling?  Why can't I get comfortable?"  It's just not like me.  I've felt out of my comfort zone several times before, but I find that my responses are changing, and I'm not sure what's going on.  My parents had to stay with me for, like, 10 minutes tonight before they went upstairs.  I needed a lot of reassurance, and it's just different.  I know it's a transition, it's just temporary, it's going to be okay.  But it's really scary.  I'm so thankful that, even though they are so tired, they've been driving me around for five hours (literally), and they woke up really early this morning, they still waited with me, prayed with me, and walked me through the fact that my legs have been in a cast for six weeks, and the stitches aren't going to rip open. 

I have only felt fear in transitions.  This is my life story.  It felt good just to sob tonight, not because it hurts, but because I found myself feeling afraid.  It's the same exact fear I felt throughout my student teaching experience, after my student teaching, when I couldn't figure out what I was going to do next, or where.  I couldn't get past my failure.  I'm afraid that I might be spoiled, or coddled in a situation so I try to tough it out.  But I also need help, and have to communicate effectively.  I just can't seem to find the balance.  It's just bringing back a lot of memories, stirring up a lot of baggage, and I'm finding it difficult to wade through.  I have failed at this over and over and over within the last several years; it's so fresh.  And frustrating.  A new kind of fear is starting to build up inside of me; the fear of the past & the future.  Paranoia.  Worry.  I have succumbed to this far more than I care to admit over the last year - it was an extremely rough year.  But I want to change how I respond.  I want to do things differently.  I just don't know how.  It hurts to admit that.

This is a journey.  I know that I'm pushing into a different chapter within this journey, and things like physical therapy, stretching out of my comfort level, and being out of a safe cast are going to bring new challenges.  But I am going to be praying about how to respond in a healthy way.  It sort of feels like an attack on all sides, and for some reason, I feel like the fear started to penetrate in tonight.  Baggage can do some pretty crazy things, can't it?

But Jesus is more powerful than that.  Surrender.  It happens every. single. day.  Every day has to be surrendered to Him.  Every piece of baggage that I own has to be handed over to him.

It was hard seeing my legs, but I still feel hope.  It was hard figuring out how to function with my legs so exposed, but life is not always about being comfortable.  It was hard to think clearly tonight amidst so many different emotions and feelings, but after praying with my parents (my community), I feel so much more peace.

My relationship with God is honestly what is getting me through this.  It is what has made this journey so far a deep, deep blessing in my life.  It is what has brought so many things to light for me, teaching experiences along the way, so many circles of learning.  It is where the peace and hope have come from so far; I just have to remember to rely on it at all times.  Trying times.  Scary times.  Exciting times.  Funny times.  Painful times.  Humiliating times.  Quiet times.  Emotional times.

The next chapter is going to be great, only because I serve a great God.  Despite my limitations, he can still do great things.  It may be painful, and it may stretch me, but he is the best TeacherCounselorFriendRedeemer
ListenerLoverFather I will ever have in my entire life.  All thanks go to him.

Salt.

I'm a hick at heart.  I've decided.  I say "hick" as a term of endearment and love, not in a derogatory way, but I have some tendencies that help me to get a feel my mother's Arkensaw roots.  The way I say thank you sometimes, for starters.  The memories of feeding baby goats & chickens on my MeeMaw's farm.  My love for country music.  My love for Sonic.  (It doesn't taste the same in Illinois, btw.)  My love for red dirt.  My love of the mountains.  My love of farms, and free-roaming livestock.  Tonight I felt like a hick because I was eatin' me some sunflower seeds, and spittin' the hulls out by the second.  Oh man, they are my new weakness.  Every night my parents and I eat them, and they are so good.  The salt that hits my taste buds is such an indulgence even though they always leave me thirsty.

I remember listening to a sermon a while back at a church I visited with my family when we were first moving into the area we were planting a church (Meadowland) in.  We hadn't started meeting as a body yet, we didn't even have a place to live, I don't think, but we were visiting local churches to get to know the people in our area.  The pastor spoke about the salt of the earth, and losing saltiness.  I'll never forget it.  I have never been more confused in my life.  He had a salt shaker, and he was talking to little kids about how salt loses it saltiness, and I was totally lost.  I was 15, and he was addressing 8 year olds.  Did they get it?  Was I the only one that didn't understand how salt lost its saltiness?"  I didn't want to lost my saltiness, man.  I was afraid of abandonment because I wasn't flavorful enough.

I have thought a lot about salt in the last few days.  I think it has something to do with the fact that I eat Barbeque flavored sunflower seeds with my parents every night before bed, and the fact that I just finished watching season two of Man vs. Wild where Bear Grylls walks through a salt flat.  (I love you Bear.)  It made me thirsty just watching him tread over foot after foot of salt. My skin is especially dry because it's been hiding away for a little while, and I think of those cracked salt flats he treks over.

It's kind of weird, huh.  I mean, salt is vital to our life.  Deer and other hooved animals need it to lick it in a funny fashion for entertainment purposes.  The sodium and chloride it contains keeps us alive.  It helps with digestion, enables our brains to send messages, it enables our hearts to contract.  It affects salinity in the oceans, which affects plant growth & microorganism survival.  It made for a not-so-great-looking movie with Angelina Jolie.

Jesus talked a lot about salt in the New Testament.  Jesus is called the salt and light of the world.  It has nothing to do with table salt on your table, in my opinion.  He's not just a seasoning to add a little spice to your life, something to mix things up a little.  He's not that convenient.  But he's also not an additive that makes you bloated; he doesn't make your life miserable.  Or look fat.  Or phat.

He simply makes people thirsty for more.

For something more.  You know?  Life is so much more than us - look at the stars, the galaxies, the universe.  Look at how our bodies function.  Look at a baby growing inside its mom's belly.  (Or uterus if you want to get technical with me.  That was an awkward classroom moment last year...)  Look at how I'm still breathing.

The something more that we are looking for is Jesus.  He is why we are thirsty.  The great paradox is that He alone satisfies our thirst because he is a living well of life.  He is water to our souls, and this water whets my dry lips, my dry mouth, my dry heart.  Always.  This water tastes sweet, and it is forever filling.

Today is the end of one leg of my journey; there's a part of the race that is coming to a close.  I find myself getting thirsty.  I'm pushing into, what I feel, is going to be the brunt of the journey so far.  Some might argue that the hardest part is over, but I just don't know.  I don't know how to feel or what to think.  Part of this confusion comes comes because I'm sleepy, but part of it is because I'm curious.  I'm entering the unknown.  Tomorrow I have an appointment with my amazing orthopedic surgeon, and I'll find out what to expect.  One of my casts will be removed, and another with be re-casted, but beyond that I don't have a clue.

As I'm talking with nurses and doctors tomorrow, and as I speak even tonight, I want to focus on this verse from Colossians 4:6:

"Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone."

When I'm talking with people in a hospital, when I'm talking with my friends on Facebook or g-chat, when I'm talking with my little sisters, when I'm talking with people who intimidate me, when I'm talking to people that frustrate me or humiliate me.  Full of grace, seasoned with salt.  Jesus modeled this well.  He is the same today as he was 2,000 years ago; he quenches our deep thirst.  He is as honest, but gentle with me as he was with the woman at the well.  He saw everyone as someone.  I want to be the same Catie to my sisters that I am to my doctors.  I want to be the same Catie to my enemies as I am to my friends.  I want to be growing and changing, yes, but I want my character & my integrity to stay consistent.  No performance, no faking it, no false images.

I want you to know that everything I say, you need to take with a grain of Jesus salt.  The Holy Spirit has been leading and guiding this blog so far - the Lord deserves all the credit.  Don't forget that I'm a human.  I keep saying this, but no one's taken me up on it yet: correct me.  Discuss with me.  Speak to me with salt so that I may still be thirsty for Jesus when I'm 92.  Tell me how I can pray for you.  Please keep praying for me.  I depend upon it. 

We need to strive to do this for one another, as a community & a body of people.  Thank you to the friends I spoke with today that helped me realize this.  Thank you to the friends that have encouraged me in so many ways throughout the last 48 days.  Thank you, Jesus, for the communities of people that you have moved me through and to.

I want to be the same person everywhere I go; full of grace.  With an answer.  Seasoned with salt.

Obsessed.

I decided today that I'm going to be the first person ever in a perfume commercial while riding in a wheelchair.  Obsession or Obsessed.  Or whatever...it's going to be fluid and awesome. 

Anyway.  So.  Reason number 123 for not breaking both of your legs: when you wheel around your house in your fluid and awesome wheelchair (without stickers - it's a loaner), you bump into the freshly painted walls, leaving very large gashes & black marks.  My poor mother. She worked so hard painting our house, and I come through and ruin the work.  It drives me nuts, because no matter how slow I go, I always bump into something.  And you can always tell.  There's no hiding it.  It drives me absolutely bonkers.  I'm slightly OCD about marks on walls, and I so long to go into the garage late at night so I can sneak the paint in to cover my tracks.  Reason 124 for not breaking both of your legs: so you can go into the garage to get paint.  ; )

My friend Alaina is obsessed with Tim Tebow. I mean, maybe not obsessed, but it's close.  She really really really really likes Tim Tebow.  I hardly know the guy, so I don't have much to say about him, except, "What's not to like?"  I know he loves Jesus, and he obviously has strong muscles because he plays professional football.  That's what she tells me anyway.  I pray for her, that one day she will meet him, and that they will get married.  At first, I thought that was a silly prayer, but after a while, I was like, "You know what?  God hears what we ask him for, and if it's in his will for Alaina and Tim to be married, it'll happen."  So that's what I pray for.  She'll thank me one day.

When myself and others around me asked God in the last weeks to heal my body, to mend my bones, to provide for my family & I, to teach me in the midst of a trying circumstance, and to be drawn closer to Him, he heard those prayers.  I will never forget the story of a Spiel-shining friend: her 7-year-old daughter was sitting in church with her one Sunday.  All of a sudden, out of the corner of her eye, she sees her daughter slide down from the pew unto the kneeler in her church.  She sees her with her little head bowed & eyes shut tight, and the mom said she just knew.  She knew what her daughter was doing.  It moved her, I think.  It moved me.  Later, she asked her daughter what she had been praying for & she told her that she had been "praying for Miss Catie."  Do you know how amazing that is to me?  I have heard more than one story of kids who pray for me.  Do you know how wonderful that is?  Kids are praying for me.  Man, what an honor.  I tell you, I am blessed.

When we talk to God, I think that's how he sees us.  I pray that's how he sees me: with innocent intent, and an honest heart, earnestly eager to talk with him.  Like a child. 

It's been 47 days since I have started my journey as a woman who is unable to walk.  Forty-seven.  Ahhhhh!  I have been able to spiritually walk so much closer to Jesus, to my family, and to many people around me who encourage me.  I find myself able to open up more and more, not only about what God is doing with my broken legs physically, but what he's teaching me & showing me.  It's been an adventure that I wouldn't trade for anything.

It has taught me to ask the Lord for things that I wouldn't normally ask for: that I don't act like a 16-year-old around my 16-year-old sisters, especially in the car, for my neighbors in Illinois, for my doctor's appointment this Wednesday, for the college students from Judson University that sustained leg injuries a month ago from getting hit by a car from behind, a friend of a friend that broke her leg in a car accident, for healing in my grandma, whose legs will not ever work as they were designed to again thanks to a disease called IBM, and for the frustration that not being able to walk normally can bring, the people within my community that have no one to take care of them, encourage them, or be patient with them...these things have been brought to the surface of my life because of where I am at; I'm incredibly thankful.  And God hears.  It's funny, isn't it?  He pulls things into our paths, brings thoughts to our minds, surfaces them in our hearts, and includes us in the process by allowing us to request of him & and be honest with him.

I thankful for him.  I pray that He would be richly blessed.

I'm obsessed with seeing things from a different angle, at all times.  The physical challenges brought into my life have given me a new angle, and it excites me!  It's one of the reasons that I'm obsessed with Jesus Christ; he lived life differently than all other people.  He has opened my eyes wide, ushered me into the presence of the King, and allowed me to use my lips & my life to praise!

David, the author of the Pslams, (whom I've talked about already this week), was obsessed with the Lord.  It was all he could think about, especially when he was hiding out in the back of a cold, dark cave.  Day and night.  All he could think of was God.  I read this recently:

"God - you're my God!
I can't get enough of you!
I've worked up such hunger and thirst for God,
traveling across dry and weary deserts.

So here I am in the place of worship, eyes open,
drinking in your strength and glory.
In your generous love I am really living at last!
My lips brim praises like fountains.
I bless you every time I take a breath;
My arms wave like banners of praise to you...

...If I'm sleepless at midnight,
I spend the hours in grateful reflection.
Because you've always stood up for me,
I'm free to run and play.
I hold on to you for dear life,
and you hold me steady as a post."

Mmmm.

It's part of Psalm 63.  If you need a second, take it.  Stop reading now if you need to go think on your own for a little while.  Or, go back and re-read it. 

This Psalm is my anthem.  I am obsessed with the Lord!  He is my God, and I get myself all worked up when I talk about it.  Some nights, my fingers just can't stop dancing across my keyboard.  I can't say enough about him!  I'm free to run and play, drinking in the strength and glory of the Lord...in his generous love, I have finally found life.

Sometimes, when the people in the mall stare at me for especially long periods of time, I want to go up to them and just start telling them what He has done for me.  Do you think they would believe me?  When people say things like, "That's a great way to spend Christmas," I can't help but say, "But it is! I'm free!"  They probably think I'm nuts.  In all actuality, I'm as steady as a post.  I'm obsessed with growing into the likeness of Jesus, and with my arms flailing, my lips full, and my heart filled to the brim, I take this moment to just praise my Heavenly Dad.  He so knows what He's doing.  At all times.

I pray that in each of the 31 entries of this blog so far, that you sense joy.  Man, I so hope you do.  Because I have been filled with it each day, days beyond days described.  Beyond description.  The light that shines from behind my words in this blog is not just any beacon, it is the light of Jesus.  May this light shine brightly into your heart, and may your heart, too, be filled to the brim.

Raw.

I'm watching Man vs. Wild right now.  While listening to Sunday Morning by Maroon 5.  Not even gonna lie.  Love this song a ton.  If you haven't seen Man vs. Wild, you need to go to YouTube right now and type in "Man vs. Wild: Bear meets camel."  Yes, right now.  Go.  You're missin' out if you don't.  Bear goes inside of a camel to get out of a potential sand storm.  And he does other gross things that you just gotta check out.  Talk about poop to the extreme.  And you thought I was bad...

Bear Grylls is one of my life heroes.  I've watched his show from the very beginning, and have been fascinated by the amazing survival skillz this dude has.  I mean, the guy climbed Mt. Everest when he was my age.  He nearly lost his life after falling into a crevasse, but was saved by a teammate & his rope.  Then, he broke his spine in three places after a parachuting accident.  The reason I admire him is that he continues to do those things despite the pain that they have caused him.  I have learned so much from watching him.  There are two things that drive me nuts about his show though: 1) He rock climbs a lot.  Let me rephrase that, he free climbs a lot.  Dozens and dozens of feet with no rope.  My hands seriously sweat every time I watch him do it.  No joke.  They're a little sweaty as I type.  2) He is always eating raw bugs and lizards, etc.  It's revolting!  I'm always thinking, "Why can't you just whip out one of your fires that you are so good at building, and flash fry that nasty thing!?"

For the first time in five years, I had a baked potato with cheese on it.  "Why five years?", you may wonder.  Well.  I'm allergic to dairy, and have known for about five years.  The only reason I can eat this cheese is because it is raw; it has never been pasteurized.  This means that the enzymes in the milk are still alive, which enables my body to digest them.  Weird, huh?  Some people think I'm crazy because I believe Jordan Rubin, and the nutso stuff he says about food.  You will most likely never see me eat a raw bug as big as my thumb.  John the Baptist can have as many locusts as he wants.  I won't judge him, but for me there is no way.  Unless we were both stuck in the middle of the Sahara Desert.  Then all bets are off.  I wonder if I'm allergic to bugs?  Hmmm...

Raw bugs, raw cheese...the word "raw" is a cool word.  When I say it, I think of raw meat.  Which is gross.  I strongly dislike raw meat, much like the rest of the people in my culture.  We are disconnected from having to kill our meat before we eat, and so, I don't like it.  Enough about food.  (Maybe I'm hungry?)  At church this morning, I kept thinking about how raw my nerves were for some reason.  It was an off morning in general, and I had a hard time focusing.  Yesterday my legs were hurting a lot, and I thought it was because I had forgotten to take my medicine, but they were still hurting today.  It's funny how pain can wear your patience thin.  This was one way that God worked through me in spite of myself in the last month and a half; he has taught me patience in the midst of pain.

I couldn't get past it this morning though, and I don't know why.  I just felt raw.  The kind of soreness that you feel when you have a burn or a chaff somewhere.  Raw nerves led to impatience & words not meant, and the day was launched.  We were late to church, (and you cannot possibly sneak in in a stinkin' wheelchair...), I was short with my sister, my wheelchair was mispositioned...you name it.  The morning was redeemed, however, during worship at the end of the service.  "How Great is Our God" is one of my favorite songs.  Then, I was able to wheel into Barnes and Noble to hear my little sister play her violin as part of a fundraiser.  It was up and down from there - beautiful music, self-conscious woman in a wheelchair; accommodating parents, self-conscious woman in a wheelchair; tons of books to read, but bumping into them, creating an even more self-conscious woman in a wheelchair. 

The day was weird, but sweet.  It felt at times like I was being pushed on from all sides, and I haven't felt that in a while.  I'm going soft apparently.  James 1:2-4 offers some encouragement (and can I just say that the things I was "tested" with are so piffy - they are hardly worth mentioning.  Who cares if my pillows are on right?  Who cares if I am wheeling around in a wheelchair bumping into things?  Who cares if my legs are a little bit sore?  Temporary, non-life threatening things.  Not to compare challenges, but we need to remember to pray for people who are truly undergoing tests, challenges, and pressure in such a way that it puts their lives, their comfort, and their will on the line.)

"Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides.  You know that under pressure your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors.  So don't try to get out of anything prematurely.  Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way."

It is not just a gift, but a sheer gift when challenges come our way.  (I can totally relate!  Broken legs is SUCH a gift!)  And, maturity and wisdom are things I so long for right now, but I always try to duck out when the pressure comes my way.  I'm trying so hard to allow where I'm at to shape me, and change the way I think for the better.  In many ways it has.  But when I look ahead, I still have so much farther to go.  It's like looking out at the desert on my own "Woman vs. Wild", and just seeing more desert. 

Thankfully, my water bottle is constantly being filled by God's Word & the wonderful people around me.  Please pray for me, that I continue to find my focus fixed on Jesus, his word, and his purpose for my life; not on myself.  It's hard when your nerves start to become raw, but Jesus is like a sweet, thick balm.  I'm so thankful that he was born.  I'm so thankful to celebrate his birth in the coming weeks, and I'm so thankful to be able to have a real, live, relationship with him.  May he be like a balm in your life this week as well, whether things are wonderful or painful, freeing or challenging, joyous or saddening.  He is there through it all; how great is our God?

Resurrection.

Resurrection: the act of rising from the dead.

Straight to the point.  Right?

I attended a bible study tonight (today being Thursday) at the church I have been attending for the last couple of weeks, and the topic of discussion was Jesus' crucifixion, and resurrection.  I think they are both equally important - without Jesus' crucifixion and death, I would not belong to the family of God.  It's because of his sacrifice that I am able to approach the very throne of God - we spent a lot of time tonight talking about what his death looked like & felt like.  It was a good discussion, I think I too quickly forget just how much pain Jesus endured physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I think though when I find myself reflecting on Jesus' death, I just can't help but get excited when I think about his resurrection.  Sometimes in the church, I think we stop too quickly at just Jesus' death; the momentum that is found in his life, and the fact that he is still alive is sometimes slowed because I'm still stuck thinking about my shame.  There is such hope found in Jesus, because he takes every sin away, because of the model he was for our lives, and because he is still alive!  Do you realize that?  And what a big deal that is?  It's a HUGE claim to be making & believing, but the Bible makes it clear that Jesus is alive.  One of my professors always used to say this: get excited!

David Crowder wrote this amazing book called, "Praise Habit" - I absolutely love it.  Crowder is a worship pastor & musician that has been such an encouragement to me in my life.  I love his unadulterated, completely honest, embarrassingly open love for Jesus.  I read a Psalm in his book today that is traditionally read at Easter by the Greek church.  We're bustin' in out tonight.

The Psalms were written by David, a man that God chose to lead a nation of people.  He started off in feeble means, a shepherd who killed a huge man with a rock - not by magic or power, but because of God.  He became king of all Israel, God's chosen people.  He was called "a man after God's own heart", and yet he made a great many mistakes in his lifetime.  The Psalms are like David's blog; poems, songs, laments, and celebrations that David feels throughout his journey.  Honest, real, up & down emotions.  Even when he's narrowly escaping death, hiding in caves, and has hit rock bottom, he praises God.  Here's Pslam 66:

"All together now - applause for God!
Sing songs to the tune of his glory, set glory to the rhythms of his praise.
Say of God, "We've never seen anything like him!"
When your enemies see you in action, they slink off like scolded dogs.
The whole earth falls to its knees -
it worships you, sings to you, can't stop enjoying your name and fame.
Ever sovereign in his high tower, he keeps his eye on the godless nations.
Rebels don't dare raise a finger against him.

Bless our God, O peoples!
Give him a thunderous welcome!
Didn't he set us on the road to life?
Didn't he keep us out of the ditch?
He trained us first, passed us like silver through refining fires.
Brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very limit,
Road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back;
Finally he brought us to this well-watered place.

I'm bringing my prizes and presents to your house.
I'm doing what I said I'd do,
what I solemnly swore I'd do
that day when I was in so much trouble:
The choicest cuts of meat for the sacrificed meal;
Even the fragrance of roasted lamb is like a meal!
Or make in an ox garnished with goat meat!

All believers, come here and listen;
let me tell you what God did for me.
I called out to him with my mouth,
my tongue shaped the sounds of music.
If I had been cozy with evil,
the Lord would never have listened.
But he most surely did listen,
he came on the double when he heard my prayer.
Blessed be God: he didn't turn a deaf ear,
he stayed with me, loyal is his love."

It's crazy beautiful.  It's crazy true.  It's crazy personal.  Even the snow plows agree with me, their deep dark voices echoing from the streets.  Their song is long and slow, but they sing faithfully through the night, as if a backdrop in agreement to what David has said of our God.  David, the man after God's own heart.

For your defining pleasure, I've listed some definitions of words I don't really understand.  I challenge you to read these, and then go back and look at the words in context. Thanks, Dictionary.com.

Worship: to feel an adoring reverence or regard. 
Sovereign: having supreme rank, power, or authority, character, and importance.
Bless:  To bestow good of any kind upon; to extol as holy; glorify.
Refine: to become pure.

Choicest: something that is preferred or preferable to others; the best part of something.
Listen: to give attention with the ear; attend closely for the purpose of hearing; to pay attention; heed.
Loyal: faithful.   
(Faithful: reliable, trusted, or believed.   
Reliable: dependable in achievement, accuracy, honesty.)

P.S. Definitions, for me, are like LambChop's "This is the Song That Never Ends" - I could go on forever.  Really.  God's character is literally never-ending.  If you feel so led, you should keep defining the things that you don't understand, not just in your mind, but in your heart.

Longing.

The sun shone so brightly today, even if it did set too soon.  I figured out that I can turn my blinds so that the light actually hits me in the face.  It's a beautiful thing.  I feel a strange connection with the sun, and I need it to live.  I could never live in the northern east coast - I would cry everyday.  On cloudy days I would cry because I missed the sun, and on sunny days I would weep with joy.  Here, there is a lot of snow on the ground still, and we're expecting more this weekend.  A lot more actually.  I have this incredible longing to go outside and hear the crunch of it under my feet, and take long, brisk walks in the cold.  Like, I can't even describe it to you.  I love that sound!  I was so excited on the day that it snowed recently, but I found later myself feeling a little sad because I can't crunch it or look back at my footprints.  It's such a weird feeling.

I think I'm just reaching the point in my journey, as someone with two out-of-order appendages, where I feel more myself, but I can't quite act that way.  I keep having dreams where I saw off my casts and start walking around.  I always wake up in a sweat because I'm freaking out inside while I watch myself walk.  Or I'll walk on my casts, and laugh in my dreams.  Bizarre, but true.  And not said for pity, but the longing to walk is so deep - it permeates a lot of different desires.

This feeling of longing is something I have definitely felt before.  A longing to find the right job, a longing to be with people I miss, a longing to fall in love.  I especially feel a longing to be with Jesus.  When I think about heaven, & I envision what it's going to be like to stand, finally, before Jesus, this pit forms in my stomach.  Every time.  I feel so excited when I think about it, and I start to think like a three year old.  You know what I mean, right?  Like, you just want to run into the arms of the people you think are just so awesome, and have them hold you, and kiss you all over, and then put you down and chase you around.  I'm sighing.  I can't wait to stand before him, fall at his feet, and worship him.  To see what he looks like, and have him hold me, and tell me, "Welcome home."

There is this song by a woman named Audrey Assad, called "For Love of You".  The gist of it is that loving Jesus makes her come alive; it's his voice that has her singing out; she's watched him carve streets of gold from sand and gravel.  My favorite part of the song is the bridge:

"You are my deepest longing, and so I see you everywhere; it's you I'm chasing after.  Cause I am captivated by who you are, and how you move, I'll follow you forever."

I just love it.  My bones jump for joy inside my body because it excites me more than anything else has, can, or will in my life.  Chasing after Jesus is fun, exciting, and full of joy.  I also find myself out of breath, and frustrated sometimes because I can't catch him.  I am captivated by the way he lived his life: selflessly, humbly, full of compassion & mercy.  He knew who he was, and who God had created him to be.  He was passionate about God's word, and the things his Father had instructed him to do.  He loved learning, but knew how to ask questions.  He loved kids, and the sick & poor & forgotten.  He was patient and kind to people even when he had said something twenty times.  Literally.  Gentle and just.  Pure, yet willing to step beyond the bounds society had drawn for him.  Patient, yet full of his father's zeal for how life should be lived.

I mean, those aren't just "good things" - those are things that Jesus embodied as a man who really lived.  He really did the things the disciples said he did!  Those are the things that captivate my attention, that make him so attractive to me.  I want those things.  Now.  Today.  Right this second.  But, it takes time to become like Jesus.  Our lives change the second we choose to chase after him, but we have to stop sometimes, and fight off the things that get our feet tangled up, or dump the rocks from our shoes.  Or you break your legs, and you can't run.  But seriously, our lives soon fill up with things that distract us or discourage us because we live in a fallen world.

This is where my deep longing for heaven comes in.  The best part is gonna be that when I get to heaven, and I'm chasing Jesus through beautiful things that my mind can't even imagine, I'll never be out of breath.  I'm gonna tackle him to the ground and give him a huge hug.  As cheesy as it sounds, that's what's gonna go down.