Full.

Mmmmm...I love clean sheets.  There is definitely a reason that I'm still living at home though.  I still need my mom's help putting them on the bed.  I need help with quite a few things still, and I'm so thankful that my family is still supporting me, 100%.  I know for a fact that I wouldn't be where I am in the healing process if it wasn't for each member.  I know that the next few weeks of living here are going to fly by crazy-fast.

That said, I did get quite the taste of freedom this past weekend; I spent three days away from home!  It felt pretty surreal.  Everyone kept saying, "Oh man, I bet it feels so good to be out of the house."  Well, yeah, but I missed being home at the same time.  I got to see so many people that I haven't seen in quite a while, and it all culminated with a church service in Grayslake, IL (where I became a Christ-follower.)  It was pretty cool - my heart felt so full.

I kept thinking of that word all weekend, "full".  I have been so richly, richly blessed in the past four and half months (can you believe it's been that long?!)  Psalm 23 has been resurfacing in my heart over and over again.  Last week I talked about the first chunk of verses, but I can't stop thinking about the second chunk now (v 5&6):

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.

I keep getting this picture of me standing in the middle of a grassy, wind-blown field with the sun streaming down so brightly.  Jesus is there standing in front of me, and with one hand he cups my face.  With the other, he pours sweet-smelling oil over my hair.  It's never ending.  It trickles down over my eye lids & down my bumpy nose, and into my smile.

My heart feels this way.

My cup is overflowing and overflowing, and I can't help but tell the people that talk to me in the health food store, and in restaurants, and in the hot tub at the gym, and in my church, and at my sister's tennis lessons that Jesus is so good to me.  I look back at the last months, and that's what I see: his goodness and love trailing behind me all the way.  All the days.

From the time that I realized I needed Jesus more than anything else to now, I have learned & continue to learn what it means to dwell.  I can't wait to touch my fingers to the walls of his house, and to smell the inside.  I can't wait to feel the floor beneath my feet and to sit on God's sofa drinking who knows what.  Root beer.

Oh man.  My heart skips a beat at the thought of it.  Following Jesus is worth it.  Every step of the way.

Muscles.

I'm so pooped.  I had a crazy-fun, full weekend.  All I gotta say tonight is that, when it comes to my legs, "Oooooo, it's growing now.  It's really growing now!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5DwIcnpBCA&feature=related

Firsts.

Firsts continue to pile into my life.  Well, second firsts anyway.

1) I went shopping...by myself.
2) I climbed the stairs of my house.
3) I got into the pool using the steps.

Three seemingly small things, but I continue to be blown away by the fact that I am even able to stand up when I get out of my chair.  I really am trying so hard to "remember" where I have been, and where God has brought me from.  It's so exciting to me!

"The king [David?] rejoices in your strength, LORD. How great is his joy in the victories you give!" -Psalm 21:1

Foggy.

You know, this is such a weird time for me.  Can I just say?  I just have to say it out loud once, and I won't say it again.  And I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the obvious.  My awareness of this weirdness was heightened tonight when I fell asleep at 5:30p, and woke up...well...two hours ago.  Whoops.  I don't like it when I fall asleep so late in the day, but I couldn't fight off the urge to snooze, and I have been thinking and thinking and thinking for the last two hours.  Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to fall back asleep for a while. 

My whole world is in a bit of a fog right now, and a very weird transition time.  I find myself excited about so many things, but so nervous at the same time.  I can feel it outside too - this morning it was so sunny & beautiful, but super-cold.  Then it started to rain.  The grass is a poopy yellow color, but there are a few blades of green peeking out.  A Mourning Dove sat on my roof this morning cooing its brains out, but there was no response. 

It's so close to Spring, but Spring feels so far away.  We're right on the cusp, and it's driving me bonkers.  It's like itty bitty baby steps to get there.  I don't want to rush those steps, and I'm trying to still take it one day at a time, but it's challenging. 

I came across this verse tonight, and I started laughing:

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”  (Timothy 1:7)

Normally, this verse is used in the context of not being afraid - afraid of the future, afraid of struggle, afraid of myself or others.  What made me giggle tonight was those last two words: "sound mind".

Man, some days I feel like I don't even have a brain.  Those days usually correlate with how much milk & wheat I eat the day before, but I just wonder all the time, "What the heck, Catie?  Where is your head?"  In outer space.  I think it's interesting that, even though I'm in a fog sometimes, God continues to increase my faith in him, and he is teaching me what it means to trust him, love him, and love others.  "Sound mind" doesn't mean "perfect thinking", which we should strive for, or "robot brain" which we have to work against, but I think it means "clarity".

Instead of dwelling on all of the unknowns in my life, I find this verse causing me to press into the fold of my Father, and take comfort in the fact that my brain doesn't belong to me, it belongs to him. 

What a relief.

Elephant.

I spent my entire morning watching BBC's "The Life of Mammal's"...it's a pretty sweet deal.  Not only am I resting my little legs, I'm learning strange things about all sorts of mammals on Netflix.  I mean, there are mammals I haven't even heard of. (Do you know what a Pika is?  Or that they layer different poisonous plants in their little caves in a time-sensitive order so that they are able to eat during the winter?  Or that the Tik-tik eats the lowest layer of Acacia leaves, the Impala eats the middle layer, the Gerenuk eats the layer above that (because of their smaller heads & extendable backbone), and giraffes eat the highest layer of the same plant?  I didn't.)

One animal in particular made me think of Jesus.  It was this momma elephant that was guiding her baby calf in the dark.  Apparently, elephants need dietary supplements like the next person, and they go into dark caves at night to break off large hunks of salt.  (See!  You didn't know that either, did you?)  They literally have to put one foot right in front of the other just to climb up into this huge cave.  A giant elephant led the way, and then the rest of the herd followed.

So.  This momma is not only trying to climb up a teeny tiny little path to get into a rocky, jaggedy cave, but she's doing it with her kid.  (Sounds like a lot of moms I know, metaphorically speaking...kudos to all you moms out there.)  Do you wanna know how she got her baby into the cave, and kept it from breaking it's little baby legs on the rocks?  With her trunk.  It was so crazy!

Now, you may be asking, "How the heck does that make you think of Jesus, Catie?"  Well.  The first thing I thought of when I saw that elephant gently but sternly guiding her baby was how Jesus uses his staff.  He does the exact same thing with us!  I almost started to cry because the parallel was so beautiful.

I know I've talked about Psalm 23 before, but here's v. 3-5:

"...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.

I am so thankful that, like an elephant, Jesus is so strong & yet so sensitive towards us.  "The rod & staff" are sometimes spoken of in a negative connotation, but I truly think that Jesus leads us exactly as that momma elephant did.  With great care, great concern, and great compassion.

Speechless.

What a sweet taste of Spring the day was today.  I love the sun.  Can you believe it's already the middle of March?  I'm at a loss for words.  I have been this whole weekend.  I got to spend time with my little seesters on Friday and Saturday, which was super-fun.  This time continues to be a blessing.

Job (40:3), said to God: "I'm speechless, in awe—words fail me..."  That pretty much sums it up, huh.  Especially when I look at where I am at present.  I can't believe how much progress I have been making, and how well my left leg is doing.  I finally feel like it's catching up with the right.  I'm walking on it more, and moving around with much more ease than I was even last week. 

I think what is helping is that I'm going to the pool twice a week now, and doing physical therapy twice a week as well.  It's funny because instead of swimming in the private, 10' x 10' pool in the back of the PT building, I now have to be chair-lifted into the therapy pool in front of tons o' people.  It's humbling, but way worth it.  I think it just surprises people that I'm even out in public, but what has surprised me is how many people see me & offer help.  I mean, if you thought I was a doofus when I had complete use of all four appendages, you should see me now.  Oi.  It's so much fun though, and I'm so thankful for the Lord's continued provision. 

I've been thinking all weekend about the idea of time.  I'm sure you've heard the saying, "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why we call it 'The Present'."  (Eleanor Roosevelt?)  It's true!  My dad has always been especially cognizant of this truth and, as a result, it imprinted on my brain from the time I was very young.  I have always had this awareness of space & time, and sometimes think a little too deeply about it.  But the Bible makes me feel better:

Teach us to number our days,
   that we may gain a heart of wisdom. 

- Psalm 90:12

That pretty much sums it up.  The average person (that lives to 70) only has 25,500 days.  Total.  Doesn't that seem like such a finite number of days?  Holy cow!  Using those same stats, I only have 46 years left - that's 16,790 days.  Man.  It just gets me every time.  We are not long here.

Lord, teach me to number my days, that I may gain a heart of wisdom.  Amen.

Beautiful.

Tonight, I fell in love.  I fell hard, my friends.

His name is Henri J. M. Nouwen.  He is a Catholic priest that wrote the book, "Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life", and I'm in love.  I mean, we can't ever get married because of that whole "vow of celibacy" thing.  And he died in 1996.  But why should that stop me?  My love for him will transcend time.  : )

On being "in the desert"...

"Instead of running away from our loneliness and trying to forget or deny it, we have to protect it and turn it into fruitful solitude.  To live a spiritual life we must first find the courage to enter into the desert of our loneliness and to change it by gentle and persistent efforts into a garden of strong faith.  This requires not only courage, but strong faith.  As hard as it is to believe that the dry desolate desert can yield endless varieties of flowers, it is equally hard to imagine that our loneliness is hiding unknown beauty."

I find myself, once again, asking that same 'ol familiar question:

Do I really trust Jesus with my future?  

He has never failed me.  Never.  He has walked with me through the peaks and valleys of this journey, and he has never left my side.  He sticks up for me, and protects me from harm.  He has forgiven me innumerable times, and paid the debt which I owed.  He has revealed so much truth to me, and has captivated my heart & my attention.  Everything in me screams, "YES!!!", but my body is still.  My legs are weak.  I have become quite good at running away from loneliness, and as such, I lose heart too easily.  I am ashamed to admit that after four life-changing months, I still lack courage.

And yet.  There is hope.

Look at the beauty of the desert flower:

Courageous, are they not?

Thomas Merton said, "I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate.  As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are.  And if only everybody could realize this!  But it cannot be explained.  There is no way of telling people that they are walking around shining like the sun...There are not strangers!"

Another appealing thing about Nouwen: he quotes Merton a lot.

"Those who do not run away from our pains but touch them with compassion bring healing and new strength.  The paradox indeed is that the beginning of healing is in the solidarity with the pain.  In our solution-oriented society it is more important than ever to realize that wanting to alleviate pain without sharing it is like wanted to save a child from a burning house without the risk of being hurt.  It is in solitude that this compassionate solidarity takes is shape."

I don't know if it's because I feel my time at home/in Illinois/as a woman unable to fully walk is coming to a close, or if it's because I think I know when I'll be moving back to Milwaukee, or if it's because of the transition in my thinking, or if it's because of a really awesome sermon last Sunday on "bearing each others burdens", or if it's an avalanche of emotions after a great small group time tonight, but I have to start saying thank you now.  I'm running out of time; the snowball is so big!  I have to continue to thank those of you who were willing to bear my burdens, and the burdens of my family.  Thank you for sharing my pain & my joy.  I know that not all of you will even read this, but thank you for demonstrating hospitality and compassion not only with your lips, but with your lives. 

"Do not run, but be quiet and silent.  Listen attentively to your own struggle.  The answer to your question is hidden in your own heart."

Holy Spirit, I tune my ears to your voice; help me to hear your still soft whisper even as I continue to wander in the desert.  Thank you for hiding in my heart.