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.
Monday, December 20, 2010
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.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
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?
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?
Friday, December 10, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)