Blanket.

It is freezing cold.  My toes have been in cozy socks, and they are still frozen.  Along with my nose.  My toes and my nose.  I know how to rhyme!  But seriously, they are the only things that get cold on my body, and I can't get them warm.

So I grabbed an extra blanket for tonight.  It was given to me by my grandma quite a few years ago.  It's sort of a throw, I guess you might say.  It is cream and forest green with sheep sewn around the edges, and a Psalm stitched into the center.  Psalm 23 to be exact.

Huddled underneath my warm layers this evening, I started to peruse Netflix.  I found myself watching "David" (with Richard Gere) tonight, mostly out of curiosity.  It may sound like a ridiculous movie, but it wasn't that bad.  Richard Gere is one of my top-ten favorite male actors (as I'm sure he is for many), but I was interested in the fact that he starred in such a movie because he is a practicing Buddhist.  I think he was in "David" before he stepped into Buddhism.  Or he is just a really good actor.

Anyway, the movie's beginning includes David's encounter with Goliath, the gigantic Philistine man.  He starts to say Psalm 23 out loud, and it occurred to me that I was laying underneath exactly what this man was saying.  It was weird because the very words that came across David's lips thousands of years ago are stitched into my blanket.  Isn't that so bizarre?

Here it is, Psalm 23:

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
   for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
   through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
   for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
   they comfort me.

 You prepare a table before me
   in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
   my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
   all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
   forever.

(Emphasis is mine)

I have so much more to understand about this chapter in the Psalms.  David wrote this one; he was a shepherd himself.  I've always wanted to try shepherding, ever since I saw a family do it on National Geographic.  It's no easy task mind you, and, out of frustration, I would probably abandon my sheep.  Seriously.  They're stupid, and they smell.  But the thing I admire about shepherds is their ability to have compassion on their flock, and to take care of them in spite of themselves.

I have only been a Christ-follower for about ten years.  At so many points I have looked up at my Shepherd after traipsing off, and getting lost, and I have thought, "Is now the point at which you are going to abandon me?  Is it now that I no longer will receive your love?  Will I never see your rod and staff again?  Because I feel stupid, rank with disobedience & selfishness." 

Time and time again Jesus has shown his faithfulness to me.  Sometimes people will refer to him as the "Good Shepherd".  It's not just the title of a ridiculous movie with a white, pasty, blond-haired Jesus; it's the truth.  This was one of the first Psalms that I ever heard, and I still have yet to comprehend parts of it.  Part of me is afraid of this Psalm.  And yet, part of me revels in the fact that the Creator of the Universe treasures me as one of many sheep in his flock.  It feels so wonderful to be blanketed, literally, in these words.  To know that as I fall asleep tonight, Jesus sings this song over me: as my Lover, my King, my Friend, and my Savior.  My Shepherd.

To be blanketed in his words is to live a full, content life.  Warmed by his love.

Joy.

There is nothing like reaching a goal.  I'm not talking about the kind of goal that will be made at a certain football game coming up between two teams that shall remain nameless.

I am laughing at myself as I type because I keep thinking about how simplistic my goals have been in recent weeks.  I can't help but reach them.  Especially when I have a claw grabber.

First leg: "Wiggle toes", "Wipe own butt", "Stay awake all day" , "Sleep on side".  Lofty.

Then, I moved on to things like: "Stay in wheelchair all day", "Wheel in wheelchair without hitting cabinets and walls", "Finish puzzle", "Reach phone in living room", "Sleep on sides" , "Get juice out of fridge without dropping it".  Crazy, I know.

Then I started to really shoot for the moon: "Make own meals" , "Stand on foot", "Climb stairs", "Feed dogs" , "Brush teeth at sink", "Shave regularly".  Who KNOWS what's next?!?

My goals have been so small, but with each wave of new ideas and abilities, I am ready to move on to my next set of goals.  It's a confidence booster.  I can't help but eventually accomplish something like, "Wipe own butt".  And then, once I do, I feel like I'm making progress.  (Although I must say, I may have backslid in my "Don't fall out of wheelchair again" goal.)

I think about how easy it could be one day, when I am standing and walking again, to say, "I did it!" or to spout off some nonsense about how you should "persevere under trial" because I've been there, done that.  Psshhh.  No.  No no no.  I'm trying so hard to be careful about how I talk about what is going on in my life.  To not speak in such a way that I sound like I have everything figured out.  I so don't.  I mean, if I had to stare down the barrel of another trial, I'd be shakin' in my boots.  No joke.  I'm wearing boots right now.  I stumbled across this verse tonight:

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”  James 1: 2&3 

I'm sure some people have heard this verse a million bajillion times.  Or maybe you haven't heard it at all.  What I can tell you is that it is not as easy as 1 2 3 (ha ha, get it?)  Some thing popped out at me this evening: I'm not just to consider trials a joy, but pure joy.

pure joy.

Dictionary.com doesn't do the word "joy" justice, in my opinion, so I'm not even going to post it.  It ties the word to "feeling", like the feeling that you may feel this weekend while watching the football game mentioned above.  Not joy.  I was completely elated today when I found out that one of my friends is expecting a baby.  Sheer excitement, even tears.  But, I think that joy is more of a posture or a way of being.  Something that we have to stop and consider amidst really dark and trying times.

Because when we do face trials in life, we are to consider it pure joy; they bring perseverance. Perseverance is one of those qualities that we all want, but really don't like working towards.  It hurts, doesn't it?  It costs a lot.  It's taxing, and exhausting.  And doesn't the timing always seem off?  Those pesky trials don't always leave when we bring in the Welcome mat, when we try to turn them away.  But it is by God's own grace that we can find ourselves blanketed in the faith that He Himself gives us.

It is this faith that I have begged and begged for.  And it is this faith that I stumble upon daily.  Choosing joy comes more and more naturally because I find myself fixated on the fact that God is so good to me; he is with me the whole way.

Foothold.

 Today was my first official day as a chick who is allowed to STAND!  Whoot whoot!  And it was so bright too! What a gloriously sunny day it was.

I think that the progression was kind of funny because my physical therapist looked at me, and was like, "Are you nervous?"  Yup.  The worst part was when I had to tell her I was 5'9'' and a half.  "Oh wow. You're really tall."  Click click click to the top of the bar...

Anyway.  I'm past my tall insecurities. I've resigned myself to the fact that, if I ever do get married, my husband will probably be shorter than me.  Breakin' and bendin' rules.  It's what I do.  Except not really.  I'm kind of a chicken at heart.  It took me a long time to even be able to wear high heels.  Like, little stubby ones.

Anyway.  Again.  My knee was what was super-wobbly today, not my feet.  It caught me by surprise.  I've been doing the exercises that my occupational & physical therapists in the hospital told me to do, but my muscles are all still super-sleepy.  I say, "TIME TO WAKE UP!!!"

Man, I'm so excited to stand again, and walk with crutches.  I took a three-inch step today, and I think that it is progress.  A slow progression is ahead of me, but it's coming along.  I crawled up the stairs tonight into my sister's room, and we laid on the floor for a little while.  I love birds so much, and she has to memorize all these different birds for Science Olympiad, so I got to read some of her super-cool books.  It's things like that that I find myself missing.  My parents do an amazing job keeping me included in what they do...I am not missing out on much.  I just miss the little things; I look forward to the little things.

In the Old Testament, there was a teacher of the law named Ezra.  Teachers of the law were held to such high standards according to the Law of Moses, and the Lord was with Ezra because of his obedience (and God's grace).  You can see more of this story in chapters 6 & 7.  Ezra devoted himself to not only studying God's Word, but observing it, practicing it, and teaching it.  In the 9th chapter (v. 8) of the book (which I need to study more), Ezra says this:

“But now, for a brief moment, the Lord our God has been gracious in leaving us a remnant and giving us a firm place in his sanctuary, and so our God gives light to our eyes and a little relief in our bondage."

So much light has been given to my eyes, can I just say?  And to be in God's sanctuary!?  What a glorious place to be!  It's my favorite place in the world. 

In the footnotes, another word for "place" is "foothold".   When you rock climb, one of the things that you want to do is look at where you are going to place your hands and feet.  When you are actually climbing, the places where you put your hands and feet are called handholds and footholds.  It's what enables you to scale the wall.

How appropriate that we are given a firm foothold in the Lord's sanctuary.

Thank you, Abba for your light!  For your grace!  And for the way that you so wonderfully provide strong places for us to stand, grow, rest; be.  Your remnants are far better than anything this world can ever offer.

Falling.

The orange hue outside my door/window seems a lot brighter tonight.  Probably because it's so cloudy outside, and the light rays have no where to run.  Or hide.  I've been sitting in the dark for a while (well, minus my computer) because everyone in my house went to bed early tonight.  It was a long, but very great day.  Physical therapy went well, I hung out at Starbucks for a few hours, and read for the rest of the evening with Bowgirl.  Super-fun.  I'm super-tired.

Anyway, as I lay here tonight, snuggled into my sweet-smelling covers, the song, "Hungry" just jumped into my little head.  It is a song that I learned when I first became a Christian, and it's one I haven't heard in a while.  By Kathryn Scott, apparently.  I bet she goes by Kathy.  Thanks, Kathy!  Here are the lyrics:

Hungry I come to You
For I know You satisfy
I am empty but I know
Your love does not run dry

So I wait for You
So I wait for You

I'm falling on my knees
Offering all of me
Jesus You're all
This heart is living for

Broken I run to You
For Your arms are open wide
I am weary but I know Your touch
Restores my life

So I wait for You
So I wait for You

I’m falling on my knees
Offering all of me
Jesus You’re all
This heart is living for

I'm so glad that this song came into my head tonight.  I needed to hear it, and I need to sing it.  And.  I need to practice it.  I am so hungry for Jesus, all the time.  I find that it's getting easier and easier to fill that hunger with other things that look so tasty, but they never truly satisfy me.  Only Jesus can do that.  With one gentle touch, one kiss of life on the lips of my heart. 

Falling is not always a bad thing, you know.  Falling on the knees is something that I think should be regularly practiced in our lives.  Humility and surrender lead to freedom and restoration.  This is the song that I will fall asleep to tonight, praying that I am able to practice it in my life.  Even if the distance from my knees to the floor seems miles and miles away.

Flexible.

I am so ready for bed.  I climbed up and down a flight of stairs three times today.  This is a first for me in about three months.  I look like a little kid, bumping down each stair on my butt.  The first time was to take a bath (yuck!), the second time to watch a movie, and the third time to swivel in a swively chair for a while.  It was fun, but I felt sick afterward. 

I have found it difficult to find contentment and patience in the last days.  Plans have changed quite a few times, and I'll think I get to go somewhere, and then it will start snowing like the dickens or my parents are over-tired from driving the twins around all day.  I totally get that, but it's hard to remain flexible.  And.  I haven't been taking my Vitamin D - big mistake.  If you don't take Vitamin D, you should.  It's good for you.  It keeps me sane.  Not taking it makes me insane.

I learned from my friend, the future Mrs. Klaers, that you can listen to the Bible online.  Isn't that crazy!?  This mysterious guy, with a deep, slightly English-sounding voice reads every word to you.  BibleGateway has a little speaker button I've never noticed, and I feel like I've discovered a secret.  This morning I was listening to John 2, my goal being to finish the book of John soon.  Jesus had to flexible!!!  Did you know that?!  I mean, I've read this passage a million times, and I realized that Jesus was flexible in John 2.

He is at a wedding with his mom, and all of his disciples.  The disciples have never been in my imagination when I think about the story, which I find funny.  He's only recently gathered all of his disciples together in the chapter before, and they were all invited to the wedding.  Mary was somehow closely related to the wedding party (I can't remember how), and so she becomes very concerned for the integrity of the family throwing the wedding shindig.  She comes to Jesus, (I've always imagined her out of breath), and says to him, 

"They have no more wine."

Jesus calmly responds by saying respectfully,
"Woman,why do you involve me?  My hour has not yet come."  
 
His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

I'm sure all of the disciples watched as Jesus instructed the servants to fill six stone water jars with water, and it is this water that is turned into the best wine of the days-long celebration.  I don't know how I would have responded if I were Jesus.  I think it's interesting that his mother makes a statement instead of asking him a question (was this a habit of hers to keep from putting Jesus in a hard place?), that Jesus feels his hour hasn't yet come (what was his hour supposed to be?), and that Mary goes ahead and tells the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them, even though she knows he is displeased (was it because everyone was already drunk?)

Even JESUS had to be flexible!  His hour had not yet come, and yet he was called into a place where he had to make a decision about how to respond, still having to honor both his Heavenly Father, and his mother.  Jesus was perfect, but I'm sure he had to think very carefully about his actions.  The disciples believed in him after that point; it was the first of many signs that he was the Messiah. 

I just think that it is funny that Jesus is called to flexibility at this point in his story: he put his mother before himself, and was patient when he had to do something that he probably didn't really want to do.  I just admire him because he always practices what he preaches, something that I can stand to work on.

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.