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.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
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 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.
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 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.
Monday, December 20, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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