Long.

Brooke Fraser is seriously such an amazing song-writer.  I'm givin' that girl some major props this evening because she is such an amazing servant of Jesus.  What an encouragement she has been to me in the last years.  I can't wait to sing with her in heaven.  After we've sung for ten-thousand years straight, in a great ocean of people, I'm going to pick up some instrument I've never seen, and she & I are going to sing songs, that we've both never heard, together.  While riding on dinosaurs.  I'm completely serious about the dinosaur part too.  Laugh at me all you want, but they'll be there.  Just you wait.

Last night as I was laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I kept thinking about how morning was going to come.  I thought about it for a grand total of, like, 30 seconds because I was out like a light.  It was a traumatic, frustrating day.  : )  Anyway.  It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?  The morning.  Heaven is going to be like a thousand beautiful mornings all wrapped up into one.  The kind of morning where you wake up in your warm cocoon, the sun shining (or not, if you like it better that way.  My friends from Vietnam like it better when it's cloudy because it rains there so much), with the promise of a new day is ahead of you. 

Brooke wrote a song called the C.S. Lewis Song.  Clive Staples Lewis is one of my heroes, and, last night after I had written about pain, I heard this song on Pandora: 

If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here.
If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary,
then of course I'll feel nude when to where I'm destined I'm compared

Speak to me in the light of the dawn
Mercy comes with the morning
I will sigh and with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me

Am I lost or just less found?
On the straight or on the roundabout of the wrong way?
Is this a soul that stirs in me, is it breaking free, wanting to come alive?
'Cos my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
And avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become

For we, we are not long here
Our time is but a breath, so we better breathe it
And I, I was made to live, I was to love, I was made to know you
Hope is coming for me
Hope, He's coming

If you have time, you can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHpuTGGRCbY

I always love it when themes from my week seem to align like the stars.  When I find myself in that holy place, and God clearly speaks to me.  If you've never experienced this, I pray that one day you do.  I'm not a crazy person, I promise.  I pray that one day you will just know that God is talking to you through a song, or through the sermon, or through a dancing little girl twirling freely in the lobby, full of joy...completely unashamed.  When the stars align and you know that God sees you.  And is crazy about you.

That happened to me this morning as I was listening to the sermon; the themes of my week collided.  The pastor was talking about how Christ-followers are aliens in this world.  Christians are weird, aren't they?  I mean, my eyes get huge sometimes.  Especially when I'm excited.  And, I've always sort of clapped a little off beat, but there's nothing like hearing it from the leader of a church.  "You're an alien."  What he was really talking about is that nothing in this world can satisfy me like Jesus.  Pain is real, life can be long & hard, frustrating even, but there is so much hope found in heaven.  It is there that I need to focus on.

God actually talks about this in Scripture.  He talks about how people who commit to following Jesus don't belong to the world.  It's temporary; our home is in heaven.  This is where the C.S. Lewis Song comes in: "We are not long here, our time is but a breath."  Make it count.

I used to be really afraid to think about heaven because I have this tendency to be really skeptical and doubtful.  And just, well, afraid.  I saw this picture a couple of days ago, and I could not stop laughing.  It's Jesus riding on a long-neck.  Holding an alligator.  : )  This picture is making fun of me.  Here's why:  Well, first of all.  I believe in Creationism, and that's pretty much a punch to my world's science-minded gut right there.  To be quite honest, I'm still figuring out what exactly I believe.  But I can't tell you how much I love science.  But then, I was talking about how I wanted to ride on dinosaurs in heaven in my small group.  Two hours later I saw this on Facebook.  Now I know I sound like a crazy person, but my logic is this: if God created dinosaurs in the beginning of time, then they were in the garden. You with me?  And if dinosaurs were in the garden, they would have let people ride on them.  If they were in the garden, why wouldn't they be in heaven?  And why wouldn't they let people ride them there too?  It is possible that I'm a little too big for my britches.  I have to admit, if I do actually stand before a Brontosaurus, I'm gonna pee my pants before I do anything else.

It's hard not to wonder.  And, I mean, it's really laughable for some people.  If you've ever seen The Invention of Lying, you get a clearer idea of how some perceive heaven.  An invention for hope for those close to death, a carrot to dangle in front of a face or two, a threat from religious leaders (if not heaven, then hell, right?)  I have caught myself thinking, "Does it really exist, God?  Really?"  I mean, what if it really was a figment of an imagination?  Is it literal or figurative?  And will it hurt my mom's feelings?  Like, that our home isn't really home?  And then, to get there you have to die.  In the words of Scooby-Doo...Ruh-roh.
 
But here's the deal: God only speaks the truth.  I don't think he would lie to us about heaven.  Scripture is truth because it is the very breath of God.  Heaven transcends time.  It transcends logic.  But, it is a reality.  All joking aside, (there may not be dinos...I'll be okay if there aren't), heaven is a reality in Scripture.  It isn't just some fantasy, or a figment of imagination  It. Is. Home.  A warm, sweet-smelling, beautiful, open-spaced home.  I think about how often I think about home when I'm away from it, especially when I miss my family or I'm going through a hard time or I'm excited to celebrate someone's birthday or hear their concert.  And, maybe for you, home has a negative connotation; for that, I'm sorry.  Heaven is a joyful home, friends.  It is on the forefront of my mind; my home.  The best part for me is going to be seeing Jesus for the first time.  Can you imagine?  I'm running straight into his strong arms.

If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here.

We are not long here.

Painful.

I totally fell out of my wheelchair tonight.

I was reaching forward, and lost my balance, and landed right on my feet.  Luckily, the impact was on my right foot, and not my left.  I sat there, by the backdoor of my home for a few seconds, slumped in my chair.  I was upset with myself because I did it, and because I swore; it hurt really bad.  I wish I had been able to say something like, "Oh Nuggets!" but I instead panicked and acted foolishly.

My little sister, Nat, was freaked out a little too.  My parents were gone, and she was so helpful.  She kept trying to get the chair off of me, but I just sat there looking out the glass door.  She sat down by me, and my leg started to throb.  I started to wonder if I had re-broken it.  Then I started to cry a little.  In one moment it went from a few tears of pain to a complete meltdown.  I was filled with so much self-pity and shame; I couldn't get up.  I was stuck.  On the cold tile.  I felt so sad, and I just couldn't stop sobbing. 

I mean, I never fall out of my wheelchair.  I have fallen forward before, but I've never fallen out.  Except for the first night I was here.  It was the same sister that watched me do it the first time, poor thing.  But that was the beginning, and I'm in the middle now.  I'm not supposed to be falling out of my chair, I'm supposed to be getting out of it.  It caught me off guard.

I feel pain.  Why am I caught off guard by that?  

After I fell, (and had calmed down) I was able to scoot into our family room, and pull myself up onto our couch.  Nat and I had been watching "The Passion of the Christ", which is kind of weird and maybe a little random.  I saw it when I was, like, in eighth grade, and I haven't seen it since then.  My sister piped up tonight was like, "Wanna watch The Passion with me?"  I was like, "Umm...sure?"  So we, like, did.

If you've never seen it, I totally get it.  Some think it's too religious.  It's really graphic, and some people don't like movies that pull on heartstrings & stir up emotions.  The theology bothers other too, and the director bothers even more, I'm sure.  I get it.  It's a movie, and not everything is the way that things went down.  But I pulled something away from it tonight.

Jesus felt pain.  He felt a lot of pain.

You're thinking, "Duh, Catie.  There's blood everywhere, and gravel penetrating his wounds every time he falls or is pushed over.  Wounds from flogging and scraping."  I know.  But last time I watched the movie it was too painful to watch.  It's what I saw this evening.  I think that a lot of times we can play down Jesus' death.  When we're singing, or when we read about it.  I don't think I always fully grasp how much pain he felt, emotionally and physically in the hours leading up to and of his death.  How gruesome it was, and how messy.  How graphic, and R-rated it was.  It's something that I appreciated about The Passion - they didn't play it down.  Or maybe they did...I guess it's a matter of how far you will let the facts and your imagination take you.  I don't always want to go there.

In the last months, whenever I would see something that looked like it hurt, my legs would tingle.  They were like little pain receptors, so I would just close my eyes.  It hasn't been happening recently, but tonight they tingled a lot.  I always close my eyes at scary parts of movies, but as I was watching this movie tonight, I made an effort to watch even the most gruesome parts.

It struck me that Jesus kept going throughout the whole experience.  At no point can you ever see him think, "Wow.  Maybe I should call down the angels to help me, this really hurts."  They were poised & ready, I'll bet.  Outraged at what was happening.  Tears of pain rolling down their faces.  You never see him call down curses on the people spitting on him, humiliating him.  He was focused, determined to get to the end, knowing it would be his death.  Knowing he was taking on every sin that was ever committed, and would ever be committed.  That is so unfathomable to me, something I totally can't comprehend.  Or maybe it's too painful to think about.

My pain is nothing compared to Jesus' pain, and I'm in no way comparing myself to him.  The pain tonight was short-lived for me.  I've already forgotten what it felt like.  The reason I even share this story is because I am thankful.  I'm thankful that, in a very very very small way, I'm able to relate to Jesus.  I'm thankful that I can look at him and watch how he lived his life, solely focused on pleasing his Father.  With strength and humility, justice and mercy, patience and passion.  Not stuck, but willing.  Not caught off guard, but knowing every gory detail ahead of time.  And doing it anyway.  No self-pity.  No self-focus.  No self-reliance.  Pure, unadulterated love driving him onward.

I'm thankful that he thought of me as it all happened.  As he carried his cross up the hill, tripping and scraping his knees in the rocks.  With each lash, with each evil glare, with each hit of the hammer, he thought of me.  He thought of us.

Then, he takes it even further.  There will be pain, he speaks hope.

The night before he was crucified Jesus said this to his disciples:  "You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy."  One of those disciples wrote his story down.  Well, several did, but John shares this in the 16th chapter of his book, in the 20th verse. 

There will be pain, but it turns to joy!  Morning will come.  Life is not over.  And the best part of it all?  He is still alive.  Breathing joy into my nostrils amidst the joyful moments, and the painful ones.

Resolve.

Avascular Necrosis of the Talus.  That's the sweet name for my "condition" that I couldn't remember last night.  AVN for short, in case you need a nickname.  You can even read about it here, if you'd like:  <http://www.mdmercy.com/footandankle/conditions/ankle_arthritis/avascular.html>

I don't know where the acronym "AVN" comes from...wouldn't it be ANT?  ANT would be WAY cooler!  But then everyone would get the giggles, I suppose, because ANT spells ant.

"Why yes, fine sir, I have a condition called ANT.  Uhh....why....no.  It has nothing to do with ants.  It has to do with your Talus bone.  What's a Talus bone?  Well, I don't really know.  I've never seen one before, but I hear it's shaped like a turtle.  Why don't they call the condition TURTLE?  Well.  Because there is no A, V, or, N in "turtle".  What?  Yes, I know.  There is no V in ant either."

That's the conversation I just had with a hot guy in the grocery story two months from now.  Apparently, we live in the late eighteenth century, which is why I called him "fine sir".  (I've been watching too many BBC movies...)  He thinks I'm weird because I'm talking about having ants in my feet.  Let's stick with AVN, shall we?

You know, sometimes when I think of all the things I have forgotten, I wonder where my memory went.  Right?  You know what I'm talking about.  Either you have lost yours as well, or you know me well enough to know that I no longer possess one.  I mean, I remember the weirdest stuff, but I can never remember the things I need to remember.  Or what I'm supposed to remember.  Names.  Dates.  Times.  Birthdays.  Family members.  What my faces looks like.  What my legs look like without hair.  To squirt Shout on my mustard stains.  You know.  Normal stuff that most people can remember.

I can, however, remember random things like people I met in the most random of places, such as the bathroom of the Brewer's Stadium.  I might even remember your favorite ice cream flavor, or when I last went poop.  Weird stuff.  Not helpful for everyday living.  Except for the pooping bit, that's important for daily living, in my opinion.  But, God has gifted everyone differently, and I've been doing puzzles.  So, maybe I'll have a better memory?  Ha ha.  What do puzzles have to do with memory.  I don't know.  But Sudoku is supposed to keep you from getting Alzheimer's.  I'm not very good at Sudoku, (but I'm working on it, thanks to a dear college friend that send me a GIGANTIC book of it.  Ms. Hberger is a wonderful friend.)

Tonight, (at my AMAZING Small Group with Springbrook Church young adults!) I got to thinking about how I can never remember what I need to remember when I need to remember it.  I kept thinking of verses that could have been an encouragement to others, but I couldn't quite remember all of the words, or I couldn't quite remember where it was found.  It is incredibly frustrating!  So.  I've come up with my New Year's Resolution.  Are you ready for it?

I hereby declare my on this day of January 13th, 2011, (not 2010) that I will:

(deep inhale)

memorize25versesfromtheBibleandbeabletosaythemcompletelyandwithareference.

(GASP)

You know I'll forget it tomorrow.  And, at first it was 100 verses.  Yeah.  Right.  It's not really a resolution.  It's more of a long-term goal.  I mean, the word "resolution" has no meaning to anyone in our society.  It might have a certain stigma attached to it, one that brings either laughter or sheer shuddering, but it doesn't mean anything.  The only other resolution I've heard this year is "To meet Tim Tebow", and we can all guess who that one's from.

But this is where you come in.  You need to help me remember to do this.  I'm serious!  I'm talking to YOU!  All of you!  I need some major help here!  Friend me on Facebook if we aren't already friends, and remind me tomorrow of my New Year's resolution.  And, if you know Tim Tebow, you could hook me up there too.  For..er..my friend.

One of the reasons that I want to memorize more verses is because I know God wants me to!  I've always had this aversion to it, which is quite sad.  Growing up, I never really thought it was "the cool thing to do", or important enough, even though it was what I needed to do.  To me, saying something over and over again (that included words I didn't always understand) was really quite boring.  And hard!  And the prizes offered in Pioneer Clubs weren't always enough to tempt me to try and cram three sentences in my brain.  I was perfectly okay with being the only one who didn't know the "verse of the week".  I could handle the shorter sentences.  Man.  I was lazy.

But now.  God has changed my heart in so many ways.  Even at my church, there is a church-wide effort to memorize more Scripture.  It came at a perfect time, too.  And, as for my nuclear-familial attempt at memorizing verses?  It's going fairly well!  We're still doing it.  The bonus is that I get to include those verses in my resolution!  Muah ha ha!  My evil plan is working!

1 Peter 3:15.5-16 says:
"Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander."

I looked up the Message's version of the verse, mostly because I never use the word "slander", and here is what it says (same verse, different word-usage/interpretation):

"Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you're living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy. Keep a clear conscience before God so that when people throw mud at you, none of it will stick. They'll end up realizing that they're the ones who need a bath."

I'm starting with this verse.  I'm going with the Message's version, even though I'll probably study both.  Wanna memorize it with me?  Seriously.  If you do, go to this website called "Facebook.com" and search for a girl named "Catie Wollard" (two L's, not two O's).  Then click on the "Send Message" button, and say "I want to memorize 1 Peter 3:15.5-16 with you!"  Then, I will proceed to follow-up with you, and make sure it's going well.  And then, you could even "Add a Friend" me, and we can be friends.  Then, I will stalk you for an hour, and comment on all of your pictures.

Stand.

Today was such a sunny day.  Snow covered all of the trees, and the view was marvelous on my way up to Wisconsin this morning.  I was so thankful to be able to look out the window and see everything passing by me.  It felt good to see all of the Milwaukee bungalows lined up in neat rows as I drove up to the hospital.  And away from it.  To go to The Golden Gyro.  This sight was also quite exciting. As was the golden gyro and baklava I inhaled.  In moderation, of course, because now I can't run it off.  : )  It was a quick stop, and then we were back on the road.  The amazing part?  The entire trip still took seven hours.  My parents are amazing.  Sacrificial love displayed through sacrificed time, money, and energy (we all fell asleep when we got home.  I fell asleep in the car.)

So!  The second cast has officially been removed.  AHHH!!  My legs are SO hairy, it's ridiculous.  My favorite thing today was when my castlady said, "You know, most people freak out about how hairy their legs look, and you're freaking out about how gangly it is."  I was laughing. A lot.  I told you it would look like a baseball bat, and it totally DOES!

My doctor said that I still won't be able to put any weight on my left leg because I have a condition (the name of which I can't remember), where I have lost blood circulation to my Talus Bone.  My doctor had also predicted that this would happen, so I had mentally prepared myself for knowing this, but I was surprised to see it on the x-ray.  You could see where the bone was a lighter color because the blood supply had diminished.  In the next few weeks I'll be starting a bone stimulator, where they attach electrodes to your foot, and send electrical impulses to your bone to, apparently, stimulate bone growth.  Isn't that crazy?!

Know what I say?  Next leg of the journey, baby!

Know what the x-ray technician said?  To stand up on special x-ray stairs so they could take an x-ray.  I thought that part was funny too.  I haven't stood up for two and half months, and I was trying to figure out how to stand on a piece of glass embedded in the top of the stairs so they could x-ray my foot.  And I'm not supposed to be standing on a leg.  I didn't know I wasn't supposed to until after my escapade.  I gave it a shot, with some assistance from my padre, and ended up having to simulate standing while sitting in a chair.  It was also funny.

My right leg is another story!  I can put all of my weight on it which means that I will be standing up soon!  Whoo hoooo!  I can't stop singing "The Stand" by Hillsong.  I put the verses in before the chorus, in case you've never heard it.

You stood before creation.

Eternity in your hand.

You spoke the earth into motion,

My soul now to stand.

You stood before my failure,

Carried the cross for my shame.

My sin weighed upon your shoulders,

My soul now to stand.

So what can I say?

What can I do?

But offer this heart, oh God,

Completely to you.

So I'll walk upon salvation,

Your Spirit alive in me.

This life to declare your promise,

My soul now to stand.

I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned,

In awe of the one who made it all.

I'll stand my soul Lord to you surrendered,

All I am is yours.

The "I'll stand" part really means so much when you really can stand up, and this is the first thing I'm going to do when I can stand up: sing this song.  Seriously.  I am.  I'm so thankful that in my mind I can stand before my Father, with my arms high & my heart abandoned to him.  I truly am in awe of all that he has done, and I look forward to all he is going to continue to do.

Castgirl.

Tomorrow will officially be my last day as Catie the Castgirl.  I'm getting my left cast off in the morning!  Yippee!  Goodbye candy cane, hello funky looking leg.  I'm trying to mentally prepare myself because when my right cast came off my leg was super-skinny, and very gangly looking.  Imagine what this one will be like.  Ha ha!  I promise I'll take pictures.  I won't post them for a while, so as not to freak you out.

Hopefully the doctor will not have to put another cast on, although this is a possibility.  I sometimes wonder because my left leg is still a little sore from time to time.  Probably because I wiggle it around too much.

I'm very excited, and very nervous at the same time.  I can't tell you how many times a day I bump my cast on things.  I'm such a klutz, and I recall my right leg feeling quite vulnerable a few weeks ago without its warm, snuggly home.  And, yes, my legs have feelings.  I haven't named them yet, but I'm considering it.  All I know is that they have grown accustomed to their new little houses over the last couple of months, and it's hard for them to part with their abodes.

It's amazing to me how quickly my legs are healing.  The reality of walking again is slowly becoming more and more real.  It's overwhelming actually.  I find myself feeling nervous just about standing again, let alone the chain of events that will fall into place after that.   My friend reminded me tonight of something I said the other day.  She asked me how to use my family's coffee maker, and I told her that I didn't know how.  I hadn't seen the buttons used before I fell, and from my vantage point, I'm not really able to see them at all.  I was no help to her whatsoever.  Luckily, it didn't explode.  Crisis averted.

I'm looking forward to seeing things from a new perspective once again.  It has been refreshing to see things from a child's perspective in the grocery store.  And down the toy aisle.  To see things from my dogs' perspective.  To see things from the perspective of someone who is little, just in general.  And to see things from the perspective of someone who is in a wheelchair 24-7.

Being physically lowered down has been such a great experience for me: it's humbling, for sure.  It has taught me humility and reliance on others.  I can't reach many of the cupboards in our house, and I rely greatly on those willing to lend a hand.  Literally.  I'm at the mercy of those around me.  This has been a challenging position to be, for sure, but one that I am thankful for.  Not all people who are in wheelchairs are this dependent on others, and I am certainly not saying that they are "beneath" anyone else.  Just to clarify.  I have great admiration for the many people I have met who are unable to walk, and I look up to them for their strength & ability to persevere.

Humility has been a topic of great discussion for me in this blog, and it is something that has been on the forefront of my mind for quite some time.  This verse is one that I want to memorize in the next few weeks:

"For by the grace given me I say to every one of you:

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you."  - Romans 12:3

I always want to come back to this place.  Thinking of myself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has given me.   Balancing.

Being unable to walk, and in a wheelchair, has not being humiliating, but it has taught me to be humble.  Even when I'm able to stand and walk again, I want to remember what it was like to be physically lowered down, below other people.  This is the essence of what Jesus did in his lifetime; he was physically placed below others multiple times.  Namely, on the cross.  For me, this aspect of my journey has been such a blessing.  Among so many others.

Seeing things from a new perspective.

Nerve.

My nerves are raw this evening.

Here's why: 750 - 4 = 746.  I am missing four pieces of a puzzle I have worked really hard on for the last few days.  The ridiculousness of this is apparent to me, but infuriating at the same time.  My fury is somewhat fueled by the fact that I didn't take my medication today.  I thought would be okay without it, but it turns out I was super-wrong.  I'm back on it, but I'm really grumpy, and I don't really want to write this evening.  I need to go pray & listen to my Father for a while before bed.  I hope that you find time to do the same. 

Pray for my family, they deserve major kudos for putting up with me tonight.  ; )

With love.
Me.

Ernie.

Tonight my parents and I watched The Express, a movie about Ernie Davis.  Ernie was the first African-American to receive the Heisman Trophy, a very prestigious award given to college football players.  I don't really follow football all that well, especially not college football.  I'm both a Packers and a Bears fan, which some claim is impossible.  (Reconciliation is my aim, people.  Don't judge.  It is possible.)  I'm more of a Chreaster kind of a football fan: the Superbowl & the Packers vs. Bears games are about all I make an effort toward, kind of how some people do church.  Christmas and Easter are the big days.

Anyway, I was kind of disappointed when it came in the mail.  I was like, "Did Netflix make a mistake?  Who ordered this stupid football movie?"  Take one guess. 

And you might guess my dad, being that the male to female ratio in our house is 1 to 7, including the dogs.  But you'd guess wrong!  It was totally my mom!  Crazy woman!  I don't know what she was thinking.  I mean, there's only so many football movies I can handle: Remember the Titans, Radio, The Blindside, Little Giants, and Waterboy have fulfilled my lifetime football movie quota.

But, I watched The Express anyway.  I kept thinking, "This is like a remake of Remember the Titans, minus my beloved Denzel Washington.  And, in the middle of the movie, they aren't happy to be together."  There is not really a buddy-buddy attitude coming from any of the boys on that team, and I felt uncomfortable.

Even though it was a fictional movie, I was so encouraged by Ernie's perseverance.  He was knocked down, and mistreated so many times in that movie, and he kept moving forward  He wasn't a pushover though, nor a doormat.  He had a quiet strength that was neat to watch.  He worked hard, and he was humble.  After being humiliated over and over again (and his teammates not DOING anything about it), he continued to push through and do his best.  It was a really cool movie.

When his team was at the Cotton Bowl, Texas was their opponent.  The guys on Texas' team were cheating left and right, as were the ref's.  I was so enraged!  Like, seriously, I haven't felt that angry in a long time.  And this is a movie we're talking about.  It was like watching the definition of "injustice" on a screen.  They ended up winning the Bowl, thank goodness, I would have quit watching if they had lost because it would have been too painful.  It was after this game that he won the award.

The president at the time, (JFK) said this to him when he won:

"Seldom has an athlete been more deserving of such a tribute. Your high standards of performance on the field and off the field, reflect the finest qualities of competition, sportsmanship and citizenship. The nation has bestowed upon you its highest awards for your athletic achievements. It's a privilege for me to address you tonight as an outstanding American, and as a worthy example of our youth. I salute you."

 Maybe it was for some political gain, and maybe JFK didn't even know who Ernie even was.  But I think he meant what he said, and I think he did truly value Ernie's character.  What a high honor to be addressed by the president in that way.

Two years later Ernie died of Lukemia.  I cried like a baby.  He never got to play a professional game, even though he was drafted by the Redskins & traded to the Browns.  He was 23.

It got me thinking tonight about what God might say to me when my life comes to an end.  Not that I want him to say "Why Catie, you reflected the finest qualities of competition and citizenship...you were an outstanding American ..."  I certainly do not want a trophy.  But I do so long to hear him say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"  I want my Heavenly Father to be proud of me, and glad for the perseverance I had while I was alive.  I most long for him to say that I loved others well, I lived by grace, and that I applied the things I knew I needed to.

If I were to encounter the amount of injustice Ernie had, I don't know that I could have done it with as much forgiveness and grace as he did.  I fail often, and I do not encounter anywhere near the things he did.  When it comes down to it, having to persevere in the face of many great things, I have to remember to fix my focus on Jesus, and remember that my life is solely for him.  For his gain, his glory, and his purposes.